Chapter 23 #2
“I agree,” I reply with an easy smile. “So, is that all? I mean, surely there is more.”
“Oh, there’s more.” Sloan takes a deep breath that sounds nervous.
“Well, I hope you’re not going to try to bring a horse back to your place as well because, I have to warn you, I don’t think your car has a hitch on the back for a trailer.”
Sloan giggles a bit too much and the anticipation for what she’s about to say is potent. “Actually, the horses can stay at the lake because it currently belongs to Sophia and, well, me by proxy. Margaret named me the executor of Sophia’s inheritance.”
“Bloody hell,” I reply, my face falling. “Sophia got the entire property? That’s quite a shock. I mean, I assumed Sophia would get something, but I’m surprised that Callum isn’t in charge of it after how close you said he was to his mother.”
“Well, I’m not sure Margaret was as close to Callum at the end because she left me money, too.”
“You?”
“Yes, a lot of money. More money than I’ve ever seen in my entire life.”
I run my hand through my hair in confusion. “Why did she leave it to you?”
“Her letter says something about the prenup I signed when Cal and I got married being unfair. But I think a lot of it is because she was upset with how Callum handled joint custody after we got divorced. It’s all so weird. I could hardly feel my face when I was signing the papers.”
“Right. I imagine this is a lot to digest.” I slump back on the chair and puzzle over how this all turned out.
“But, the biggest thing of all is that I’m free!
” She giggles happily into the phone, her voice rising in pitch with excitement.
“I don’t need Freya’s rent for the guest house anymore.
I don’t have to live near Rossmill Lane, or worry about Callum coming after me with lawyers, or work as a stylist even.
With this kind of money, the sky is the limit!
Hell, I can move back to Chicago if I’d like because I have the means to do so now.
If Callum tries to fight me on something, I can really fight back! I feel untouchable, you know?”
“I see,” I reply, my voice tight in my throat as my jaw aches from how hard I have it clenched.
“What’s wrong? I thought you’d be happy for me!” she peals. “I am finally out from under the thumb of the Coleridge’s control. I depend on no one!”
A dark, ominous feeling presses down upon me. Hobo must sense it because he shifts over to the seat beside me with a concerned look on his face.
“Gareth, say something,” Sloan adds, her tone pleading.
I swallow down the knot in my throat and say, “I’m happy you’re happy.”
“Why do you sound weird?”
I clear my throat and look around the nearly empty room, my mobile cracking in my hand as my grip tightens. “I’m fine. There are just a lot of people in here, so I’ll talk to you more later, okay?”
“Okaaay,” Sloan replies slowly, her tone confused.
I hang up and chuck my mobile across the room. It crashes against the far wall and thumps to the floor.
“Bad service?” Hobo chirps from beside me, shooting a drink of water into his mouth.
I stand up and turn on my heel, yanking my clean T-shirt off the hanger. “Not bad service. I’m just losing it I guess.”
“What’s going on, Harris? Talk to me,” Hobo says, propping himself back inside the cubby next to me and blinking his eyes up at me coyly. “Brandi says it’s good for us to talk about our feelings.”
I step into a pair of jeans and button them up, cutting Hobo an unamused expression as I fix my shirt. “Sloan sounds like she’s going to move back to America.”
“What?” Hobo asks, his voice high-pitched and surprised as he leans forward on his chair. “When?”
I exhale heavily and sit down beside him, facing forward with my elbows on my knees and my head hanging low. “I don’t know. She didn’t exactly say that, but she sounds…different. She got a boatload of money today from her ex-mother-in-law, and I feel like everything is about to change.”
I can feel Hobo’s eyes on me as he asks, “What kind of strings are attached to this boatload of money you speak of?”
I shrug, my dark mood darkening further. “She didn’t say there are strings. Said she signed some papers and that was that. Seemed so simple.”
Hobo nudges me in the leg. “My father is British and comes from old money like the Coleridge’s.
One thing I know about the wealthy British is that they don’t do anything without strings.
You have seen that with Kid Kickers sponsors, I’m sure.
Rich people are always serving some sort of selfish goal. Your brother would like that pun, yes?”
I huff out a small laugh, surprised that there’s anything Hobo can say to lighten my mood.
“Yes, Camden would like that pun. But what do I do about this? Sloan doesn’t seem to want my help.
She already refused to have my family lawyer with her today.
She thought it would antagonise Callum unnecessarily. ”
“Perhaps you should have your lawyer look at whatever she signed. Check out her paperwork and such. It can’t hurt, no?”
I nod in agreement. “I’ll give Santino a call and see what he thinks.”
“Super,” Hobo replies with a smile. “This will be fine, Gareth. Sloan is not going to move back to America. There is far too much to keep her here.”
I look over and shake my head at him. “I’m not entirely sure about that.”
Gareth is unusually quiet at dinner. I thought he’d have questions about my meeting today, but he doesn’t bring it up again.
I thought he’d have fun with Sophia and the dog in the backyard, but he’s quiet.
Solemn. He sits beside me on the patio as we watch Sophia toss a ball for Rex, but his mind is in another place.
Maybe all the extra training he’s doing for the World Cup is finally catching up to him?
I know he’s nearing the end of the regular season for Man U and his team isn’t finishing out as strongly as he’d like.
As the team captain, I’ve seen how heavily that weighs on him.
But something is off about him.
When I get ready for bed, he finds me inside my closet and reaches around me from behind to hold my body to his. He’s silent as his lips touch my shoulder and he kisses a slow path up my neck. When he reaches my cheek, he silently commands me to turn my head so he can have my lips.
I give them to him willingly because I’m hopeful it brings him back to me. His firm hands rub me over top of my clothes, hard and almost painful. He palms my mound and squeezes my breasts so firmly, I cry out into his mouth, the hard caress causing all the blood to rush between my legs.
Without a word, he turns me around and carries me to my bed, pausing to lock the door.
He drops me on my back, leaning over to remove my top.
Then he hooks the sides of my pyjama bottoms and slides them down with my panties.
I quickly move myself up to the top of the bed, my breath heavy in response to the dark look in his eyes.
I lie naked and waiting as he yanks his shirt off over his head and slowly pushes his shorts down so low, all I see are the defined lines of his hipbones and a light smattering of dark hair disappearing into the waistband.
He is all man right now. From his body, to his posture, to the possessive look in his eyes. It’s overwhelming.
His eyes lower down to the damp area between my legs. My body involuntarily squirms against the mattress in anticipation for what’s to come.
“Touch yourself for me, Sloan,” he commands, his voice low and guttural.
My head tilts. “What?”
He licks his lips, not an ounce of teasing on his face. “I want you to touch yourself.”
I exhale a breathy sigh while my hand reluctantly moves to my centre. His eyes narrow as I slowly begin to circle my clit. I’m not using any magnificent technique, but watching him watch me is extremely arousing all on its own.
“Do you remember the first time you made me touch myself, Treacle?” he asks, his voice tight.
Our first night together flashes in my mind. My hips lift upward as I ride my hand and moan out, “Yes.”
“There’s a beauty in this kind of surrender, isn’t there? Can you feel it?”
“Yes,” I moan out again as Gareth slowly reaches inside his shorts and pulls out his thick, long cock.
He fists himself in front of me, stroking from the base to the tip. His gaze sweeping my body, his forearm flexing with each pump. “But to fully dominate something is beautiful as well. Do you agree?”
“Oh my God, yes,” I cry out, my legs squeezing together over my hand in needy frustration.
The bed dips as Gareth crawls up between my legs and stills my hand with his. I watch him curl his fingers tightly around my wrists and move them off to the side. He presses them down into the mattress, leaning over me and whispering against my lips, “What would you do if I took this all away?”
“Took what away?” I pant, feeling the soft head of his erection brush my inner thighs.
“My mouth, my hands, my body, my cock…Me.”
He dips his head down to my breasts and latches onto my nipple, sucking it in harsh and sharp. I cry out from the throbbing sensation that shoots straight from my breast and pools between my legs.
“Fuck me, Gareth!” I beg, my voice a mixture of throaty desire and desperation. “Please, please fuck me.”
He releases my nipple and bites his lip. There’s a possessive expression in his eyes as he looks down at me, like I am exactly how he wants me. Complacent and wanting. Limp and waiting.
His hands cinch tighter around my wrists. “You want me to fuck you, Treacle?”
“Yes!” I exclaim, wrapping my legs around his hips and pulling him to me. “Please, Gareth. I need you to fuck me.”
His body stiffens against me, his hands relaxing their grip. “You need me?” he asks, his face unreadable in the dark.
“I need you,” I beg, my hands slipping out of his grip and slowly trailing up his arms in tender, loving caresses. “I need you so much.”
He inhales deeply and positions himself at my entrance. He holds himself there, waiting for my eyes to connect with his. “You’re mine, Sloan. You understand that?”
“Yes,” I answer, my body a mess of chaotic stirrings and overwhelming desires.
In one huge thrust, Gareth fills me. Fills me perfectly. Fills me like he was created just for me. Body and soul.