Walking home alone in the middle of the night in the freezing cold after having had five tequila shots?
Yes, I counted.
I’m starting to question if she’s pushing it. Is she that desperate? She doesn’t seem like someone who wants everything to end.
But I hadn’t seen the signs once before.
I clear my throat before taking another sip of my coffee. I have to end this train of thought right now. So, I bring my gaze back up to Sloan, who is rubbing her temples.
Hangover? Well deserved.Maybe that will teach her.
Although I can’t deny how much I enjoyed where her tipsy state brought us yesterday.
That sassy little mouth. Goddamn.
I wonder how much it would take for her to beg for me. How much would I need to poke until her defiance turned into desire?
Not too much, given how she was panting when I pressed her to the wall, how her eyes zeroed in on my lips, and how she let me get that close. So close, her breath was brushing over me, her Caribbean scent clouding my senses and resolve, and she’s nearly gotten me to lose my damn head.
I glance down at the noticeable bulge in my pants and shift my hips, trying to adjust myself.
So not the time or place to get hard.
After our little encounter in the hallway, I struggled to let her go to her bed instead of mine, but I would never start something with her when she was drunk.
When I fuck her, the only thing she’ll be drunk on isme.
Lio brings me out of my thoughts and interrupts the silent tension at the table with his question. “Can I get up and play now? I’m done.”
I want to tell him to wait until we’re all done, but Hunter beats me to it. “Sure, bud. Go ahead.”
I shoot Hunter a look, but he ignores me. He knows I don’t like how he lets him do whatever he wants, but when I objected once before, he just laughed and told me I could decide how I wanted to raise my son if I was there to do it.
It stung, but it wasn’t unearned.
I’m not there.
I’m there for what’s important—doctor’s appointments, birthdays, holidays. But I’m missing his childhood. His childhood is slipping away before my eyes, and I can’t handle having him around all the time.
He’s the spitting image of Jessie, except for his eyes.
His mother, whom I failed.
And now I’m failing him.
Lio scurries away, and my attention shifts back to the table. I can’t help but notice the odd dynamics between Nash and Sloan. Nash looks relaxed, a self-satisfied grin playing on his lips as he sits next to her, leaning over to grab the salt from her side of the table, his hand brushing her arm as if by accident. She tries to avoid his gaze, her discomfort obvious.
Did something happen between them last night that I’m not aware of?
She went to bed after I got upstairs. I waited and listened for her door to close before I went to my room. My jaw clenches involuntarily as I sip my coffee, my thoughts racing. I have no right to feel this way, to be possessive of her or jealous. But fuck, it’s hard to ignore that I want her, even when I know I shouldn’t.
As I continue to observe her, I catch Sloan’s eyes briefly meeting mine, and in that fleeting moment, I see a hint of vulnerability. I quickly avert my gaze, not wanting to betray my own conflicted emotions.
“So, what are the plans for today?” Hunter asks, breaking the silence and turning to look around at all of us.
“There’s a poetry slam happening in Calais tonight. Adam and I are going.” Nash shrugs before he turns to grin at Sloan. “Wanna join, Siren?”
She lets out a huff but doesn’t look at him as she answers, “Gotta work.”
