I push myself up and move to the window, pulling the curtain aside just enough to look out. My mom must have woken up at some point, but she’s in a terrible state, barely able to stand on her own. The two officers are supporting her on either side as they help her toward the police car. She looks even smaller and more broken under the morning light. I shake my head, embarrassment and disgust curling in my stomach. That’s not my mother, not anymore. But for some reason, this disappointing, hollow version of her is the one I’m going to remember.
The door opens again behind me. Slade steps inside and comes straight over, resting a warm, steady hand on my shoulder. “Well… she’s gone,” he says quietly. “And now I know where she is… I can finally get that divorce.”
I nod, still watching as the police car pulls away from the curb.
Slade’s voice softens. “I’m glad you weren’t part of that conversation. You don’t need that.”
I feel Slade’s hands settle on my shoulders, warm and steady, before he gently turns me around to face him. He’s smiling down at me, soft, almost tender, and for a second the weight of everything that just happened feels a little lighter. I manage a small smile in return, though the heat that had been burning between us earlier feels long gone, burned away by the shock of my mom’s sudden appearance.
“You did really well,” he says quietly.
I let out a short, surprised laugh. “I didn’tdoanything.”
Slade’s smile deepens, his thumbs brushing lightly over my shoulders. “You kept calm. You could have screamed at her… hell, you’d have every right to. You could have cried, broken down, demanded answers… but you didn’t. You stayed out of the way, and you stayed strong. You’re being the better person, Drew. Better than her.”
I nod, inhaling sharp and shakily. I look down at the floor, turning his words over in my head. Okay, yeah… maybe he’s right. Icouldhave lost it. I could have shouted every bitter question that’s lived inside me for five years. But I didn’t, I stayed calm, and maybe that actually counts for something.
When I finally flick my eyes back up, my breath catches hard in my throat. Slade’s staring at me differently now. His breathing has grown heavier, just slightly, and his gaze is locked onto my lips like he can’t look anywhere else.Oh my God. I lick my lips without thinking, and his eyes track the movement instantly. I watch the slow bob of his throat as he swallows.
His thumb drifts from my jaw and swipes slowly, deliberately, along the curve of my bottom lip. My heart starts racing at a stupid, ridiculous pace. Is he seriously thinking about kissing me right now?Oh my God, I am not prepared for this.
“We shouldn’t,” Slade murmurs, almost like he’s talking to himself.
I nod the tiniest bit, but inside I’m burning. The heat from earlierisn’tgone at all… it’s come crashing back even stronger, flooding every inch of me.
“You should… find someone your own age…” he adds, but the words don’t sound convincing. They sound like he’s trying to be sensible through the thick haze of whatever this new, desperate lust is.
Truth is, if I’m ever going to have this kind of bond with anyone, it would be with Slade. We’re not related by blood, and with my mom gone for the last five years, he’s just been the man who cared for me, fed me, housed me, laughed with me, bailed me out of trouble time and time again. I don’t think I could ever go back to anything that even resembles normal with him… but I don’t know how we could stop either.
“You’re only thirty-six, Slade,” I whisper.
He lets out a low laugh, the sound rough. “‘Only.’ Still seventeen years older than you.”
I meet his eyes. “Maybe… I like that.”
Slade growls as his hand slides to the back of my head, fingers tangling possessively in my hair. “Don’t tempt me.”
The rough control in his grip sends a helpless little moan slipping from my lips. The cocky kid I was a couple of weeks ago is completely gone in moments like this. I like not having to think. I like being owned. I like being put in my place.
Slade rests his forehead against my cheek, inhaling sharply, his breath hot against my skin. I can feel hisresistance crumbling, fraying at the edges, so I don’t push. I just stay here and let him work through whatever war is happening inside his head.
After a long second he lifts his head, eyes dark and searching. “You don’t just… want me because I’m… convenient?”
I scoff, the ridiculousness of the question snapping something inside me. I grab the sides of his face with both hands and pull him down before either of us can think better of it.
The kiss is hungry and desperate from the first second… no hesitation, no softness. Slade’s lips are firm and hot, parting mine instantly as his tongue slides in deep, claiming. I moan into his mouth, the sound vibrating between us, and he answers with a low, guttural growl that I feel all the way down my spine. His fingers tighten in my hair, tilting my head exactly how he wants it while his other hand grips my hip hard enough to bruise. The taste of him, coffee and something masculine, floods my senses. Our tongues slide and press, messy and urgent, teeth nipping at lips, breaths mingling hot and fast. I can feel the scrape of his stubble against my chin, the way his chest rumbles when I suck on his tongue, the way he kisses like he’s been starving for this exact moment for weeks.
His hands roam everywhere at once: gripping my jaw, sliding down my neck, tugging at the belt of my robe with impatient fingers. A low, desperate groan vibrates from his chest into mine as he yanks the knot open and shovesthe robe off my shoulders in one rough motion. The fabric pools at my elbows before he rips it the rest of the way off and tosses it aside.
His palms are hot and greedy, skating over my chest, thumbs brushing my nipples under my top, then sliding lower to grip my waist hard enough to leave marks. Every touch feels frantic, like he can’t decide whether to hold me still or pull me closer. He kisses me deeper, wetter, groaning into my mouth when I whimper against him. My boxers are next… he hooks his thumbs into the waistband and drags them down my thighs in one swift yank, letting them drop to my ankles. I kick them away blindly, half-naked now, and the power difference makes my cock throb painfully between us.
Before I can catch my breath, he’s manhandling me, spinning me around and guiding me toward the big armchair in the corner of the living room. I don’t even have time to think. He bends me over it, but not the way I expect. Slade lifts me, strong hands under my thighs, and sets my knees on the wide, padded armrests, one knee on each side, spreading me wide open. My forearms rest along the top of the backrest, gripping the fabric to keep myself steady. The position leaves me completely exposed, ass up and out, back arched, cock hanging heavy and leaking beneath me. I feel filthy and vulnerable and so fucking turned on I can barely breathe.
Slade’s large hand comes down in a sharp, stinging slap right across my ass. The crack echoes through the room and I jolt forward with a broken moan.
“This is completely mine now?” he asks, voice dark and possessive, another slap landing on the other cheek.
I nod frantically, forehead pressed to the back of the chair, body trembling. “Yes… God yes…”
