Page 96 of Fueled Hate

“He doesn’t talk about it, but he was there. Willow told me that Parker was so shaken by seeing Noah that he didn’t want to race again. He won’t even talk about it with Willow it’s so bad. We don’t talk about it in front of him because he gets so upset.”

“Have you ever talked to him about that night?” Dylan asks.

“No, I haven’t. Willow said he was struggling after the accident, so I’ve never mentioned it to him.”

Dylan keeps a tight, emotionless expression.

“What’s going on?”

“He wasn’t there, Sadie.”

“Then why would Willow say he was?”

“Because she’s protecting someone else.”

“Who?”

“Andrew.”

“No, she wouldn’t.” Would she? I’ve been so wrong about the people close to me I’m questioning everything, even things I see with my own eyes. “What’s going on?”

“I’m not sure, but we’ll figure it out together.”

Together. That is something I want to hear, but I’m scared of what we’ll find because so far nothing has been as expected. Why would Willow protect Andrew of all people?

* * *

I’m sitting on the edge of the bed, picking at Dylan’s T-shirt that I’m wearing after finishing up in the shower, as he takes one now. He can’t get done fast enough. He seemed extra curious about where Willow was and if she’d be at the apartment tonight. She’s not. She’s staying at Parker’s again, but Dylan was still insistent on staying at the hotel, saying he wanted to get a room to ourselves for the night, somewhere we could relax. It was a relief because the few minutes I was at my place to grab a few things, I just felt odd.

The hotel room feels more comfortable because it’s not attached to my parents in any way. Plus, the conversation Dylan and I had about Parker has me unsettled. I don’t want to question Willow, but I have to know. Dylan has to know. He might be okay not getting his car back, but I don’t think he’ll be okay never knowing what really happened. And I don’t want to be the reason he doesn’t find answers. He’s already showing a more sensitive, gentle side with me. And I appreciate it, enjoy it thoroughly, but I want both—the sweet, the sour, and everything in between.

Rising from the bed, I step into the en suite. Looking across the bathroom to where Dylan is under the stream of water, steam rising around him, I note his fists against the wall, his head hanging forward. He looks defeated.

Pulling the T-shirt over my head, I drop it as I remove my underwear and step into the shower. His muscles tense under my touch as I trail my fingertips across his ass, moving in front of him as he looks at me.

“What’s wrong?” I ask. His arms loop around my lower back, pulling me to him.

“I can’t mess this up again.”

“You won’t. And even if you do, we’ll get through it. We have to.”

“Promise?” He presses a tender kiss on my lips.

“Promise.” Dropping my hands from his shoulders, I trail my finger over his muscular stomach. “I need you to do something for me.”

“Anything, everything,” he says, his hands gliding over my damp skin.

“Stop treating me like I’m going to break. I want both Dylans, all of you.”

“Sadie.” His throaty tone sounds strangled.

“Stop holding back.” I feather a kiss on his chest as I murmur, “I want to feel you.” His hands drop between my thighs, his fingers slipping inside me, softly stroking. It’s not enough. “Fuck me. Now.”

He cusses under his breath before his hands grasp my ass and he lifts me. My legs hook around his waist as he presses my back against the stone wall. His tongue licks my neck, desperately tasting me.

“I trust you. I’m yours,” I say breathlessly. His grip tightens on my ass, fingers digging in, as he thrusts his hips, burying himself in me. My arms cling to him as he repeatedly drives into me, my back hitting the wall.

“You’ve always been mine,” he says. With one last thrust, he comes inside me, remaining there as he nips at my neck with his teeth. “Always mine.”