“Naw. Not tonight.”
Fuck.
Slade didn’t need to turn to know Carson was standing behind him. He recognized his voice. He still heard that sexy fucking rumble in his dreams.
The bastard.
When Slade didn’t say anything, Holt greeted Carson. Evidently, they didn’t need an introduction. Then again, Slade knew that Moonshiners was Carson’s home away from home. He spent more time here than most of the damn bar stools.
“Can we talk?” Carson said, briefly touching Slade’s shoulder.
He fucking hated that he liked the man’s touch. Even now, after all the shit that went down, after everything they’d said and done to one another.
“Talk,” Slade bit out before taking a long pull on his beer.
“Why don’t I give you a hand?” Holt offered Rafe, vacating the stool beside him.
Despite the available seat, Carson didn’t sit down. He moved to Slade’s side, standing close enough Slade could feel his body heat.
“You have every right to hate me.”
“Good. Because I do.”
“Do you?”
Slade spared Carson a glance, hating himself for looking. There was something about Carson that Slade had always been attracted to. Of course, he had the Walker good looks with his dark hair and blue-gray eyes, the chiseled jaw, and perfectly proportioned nose. He was handsome in the traditional sense, just like everyone else in his damn family. Unlike most of the Walker men, Carson didn’t have the height. He was six feet and holding, while Slade had him by a couple of inches. He had the build of a swimmer, and Slade knew for a fact the guy was quite limber.
For fuck’s sake. Why the hell did his mind always go that route when he thought about Carson?
Because sex is the only thing he’s good for. He told you as much.
Oh, right. He did. And Slade had pretended he was okay with that. Right up until he wasn’t.
When he tried to look away, Carson stopped him with a finger on his jaw. Before Slade could shrug him off, Carson urged him to look in his direction one more time.
“You’re right on all counts. I don’t deserve your friendship or a second chance. Nor do I deserve a chance with Atticus. I fucked up. I know that. And what I’m hopin’ will happen goes against everything you believe in. But that doesn’t mean it’s not worth a chance.”
Meaning Carson was still angling for a threesome.
“Be honest, Carson. You want Atticus, and you think bringin’ me in the mix’ll spice it up.”
“Yes, I want Atticus.” Carson leaned in, their eyes locked. “I want you, too. I always have.”
Slade snorted and tried to pull away from Carson, but the man held firm.
And that right there … the dominance in Carson’s touch … it sparked the dry kindling inside him. He’d never known what it felt like to be truly owned until Carson. Even though Jennifer had called the shots in their marriage bed, it had never been the same. Slade craved something only Carson could give him.
“Give me a chance, Slade. Let me show you I’m not the asshole you think I am.”
“Too little too late,” he whispered, still locking eyes with Carson because the man’s fingers held him firmly in place.
“I don’t think it is.”
It had to be because Slade didn’t know how to be with a man who’d already let him down. A man he’d fallen in love with. A man who had shattered his heart with his callous rejection. Slade wanted what he had with Atticus, even if he didn’t know what that was yet. They’d had one night together, but something transpired between them that night. And when Atticus came back. Slade had every intention of pursuing it.
“It is,” Slade said firmly, managing to pull back, forcing Carson’s hand to drop. “It has to be.”
If he saw a glimmer of remorse in Carson’s eyes, Slade pretended not to notice.
