When he’s done, he collapses back onto the broken bed, pulling me with him. His arms wrap around me, his chest heaving, his cock still half-hard against my thigh.
“Fucking perfect, cupcake, you’re a fucking dream,” he murmurs, his lips pressing to my temple.
I melt into him, my body spent, my ass throbbing, my tongue still has the aftertaste of his cum on it. The red light bleeds over us, the scent of sex and sweat thick in the air.
And for the first time tonight, I let myself breathe.
CHAPTER 11
HARLEY
It’s been almost two weeks since the call.
Since the talk withthem.
Honestly… calling them “parents” doesn’t even feel right anymore. Not after everything. Not after the way they looked at us—like we were something to be erased instead of understood.
They’re strangers now. And weirdly? I’m okay with that. Because I havehim.
Pierce.
My boyfriend.
The word still feels unreal sometimes. Like I’m saying something I used to only think about late at night, when I was younger and lonelier and stupid enough to believe he’d never come back.
And yet—
Here he is. Laying next to me in our bed.
Yeah, people would call it wrong, twisted, taboo even. Stepbrothers turned into something more. But honestly? I don’t care. Because people judge no matter what. You could live the most perfect, quiet, acceptable life and someone would still find something to criticize you for.
So what’s the point?
You get one life. One. And I’m not wasting mine pretending I don’t love him just to make other people comfortable.
Still…
There’s one thing. One question that’s been sitting in the back of my mind for months now, ever since the auction. Every time I tried to bring it up — he dodged it, changed the subject, distracted me.
But not today.
Today, I want the truth. The real truth.
I stop in front of his office door, take a breath, then knock.
“Come in.”
I push the door open and step inside. He’s sitting behind his desk, sleeves rolled up, focused on something on his laptop.
He looks up the second I walk in, and softens instantly.
“Angel,” he says, leaning back slightly.
“What are you doing here?”
There’s a hint of a smile on his lips.
“I want to talk,” I say.
