Chapter 4
“Wait,” Cade said, stopping short, like his brain was just catching up. “That’s what you’re upset about? That I used you as an alibi?”
Tris felt gut-punched hearing it out loud.
That was really all he was. He was just an alibi.
This whole night, everything from start to finish had just been…
what? A show? Acting? He fought off the tears that threatened, blaming the adrenaline of arguing with a murderer over a bloated corpse for his sudden bout of emotions.
His chest felt too tight, like every inhale scraped his ribs raw. There wasn’t enough air in the room, and the metallic scent of blood mixed with cologne was turning his stomach.
He tried to pull himself together as he studied Cade’s enigmatic expression. Did he look relieved? Amused? Judgey? Hopeful? No, definitely not that. It was all an act. None of this had been real.
Why did Tris even care? The guy was a fucking murderer. Of course, he would fall for a killer. Christ, maybe he needed to go back to his therapist. He was sure Linda would be thrilled to see him. Smug, but thrilled. He’d brought this on himself.
Still, who was Cade to judge him?
“You do not get to judge me,” Tris snapped.
“And to be clear, I’m upset about many, many things.
” He waved his hand in a circle. “Like, all at once. This is—” He stumbled, then caught himself, the room tilting wildly.
Was his vision tunneling? He couldn’t afford to pass out right now.
“This can’t be fucking happening. How is this my life? I was having a good time.”
His words cracked on the last syllable. God, he hated that. He hated that Cade’s face softened just a little, like he actually gave a damn.
“Me too!” Cade said emphatically, making to move closer. “The best time.”
Tris held out a hand. “No. You stay where you are.” He shook his head, trying to clear it. “Did you seriously tell me to sit and stay in the dining room so you could go murder someone on our date? You did, didn’t you? And I did. I stayed there.”
Cade looked around, pulling a face. “Did you, though?”
Tris’s temper flared. “Seriously. Fuck you.”
Cade tilted his head, holding up both hands in a placating gesture.
“Listen. I know you’re big mad, upsetty spaghetti right now.
But since you seem really into clarity…full disclosure: yes, I did ask you on this date as my alibi.
But I really liked you. Maybe more than any other person I’ve ever met. ”
Tris hated how that quelled some of the turmoil.
Why did he care what Cade thought of him now?
He should be plotting a way out of this room so he could turn him into the cops.
But even as the thought entered his head, he knew—knew in his bones—that he would never turn Cade in, regardless of what he’d done.
And Tris hated himself a little bit for it.
Because even now, even standing over a corpse, Cade didn’t look like a monster. He looked like someone who could ruin Tris in softer, quieter ways. Someone who could talk him into staying when every nerve in his body screamed to run.
“I don’t know what to do with that,” Tris muttered.
“You don’t have to,” Cade said quietly, eyes tracking his every microexpression like he could read Tris’s thoughts. “Just…don’t be scared of me.”
Too late, Tris thought. I’m terrified. But not just of you. Of how much I want to believe you.
Cade took a tentative step forward, stopping when Tris took a step back.
“Wait, I’m not done. Yes, I told you to stand and stay—not sit and stay.
I don’t think of you as a pet. That seems an important distinction—but not so I could go commit a felony.
Just so I could find something to put in your mouth that wasn’t going to get us both arrested for indecent exposure. ”
Tris glowered at him, but also felt his insides warm at the idea of what else could have been put in his mouth to curb his oral fixation. His stomach swooped traitorously, heat pooling low in his belly even while his brain screamed wrong time, wrong place, wrong guy.
Fuck. Focus.
“However,” Cade went on, “when Rocco here left the room, I saw an opportunity and took it. And not to put too fine a point on it, if you had just done what I asked, I’d be back, you’d be eating, and we’d be enjoying the rest of our date.”
Was he blaming Tris for this? Wow. “Except, I’m on a date with a psychopathic killer!” he shouted. “Like, what the fuck?”
Tris started to pace, running his hands through his hair. Cade folded his arms and leaned against the wall, a slight smirk on his face, like he thought Tris’s meltdown was an overreaction or…cute. That calm, infuriating expression made Tris want to shake him and kiss him in equal measure.
“Okay, now, who’s being judgey?” Cade asked. “Yeah, I kill people. But I’m not a bad guy.”
Tris’s eyes went wide, his mouth falling open. “What?”
“He was a bad guy. A very bad guy,” Cade said, gesturing to the corpse on the floor. “Now, thanks to me, the world is minus one less bad guy.”
“What a hero,” Tris deadpanned.
“Now, you’re getting it,” Cade said, satisfied. “Also, you’ll be happy to know that I make enough money to keep you in Blow Pops and Twizzlers for the rest of your life.”
Tris slowed his pacing. He did like Blow Pops and Twizzlers.
His mouth twitched like it wanted to smile before he smothered the urge.
No. Stop it. What was wrong with him? So many things.
He didn’t just need his therapist; he needed a fucking nut house with a slew of therapists.
Which he would likely be appointed once he was arrested as an accessory to a homicide.
“The rest of my life? I’m going to end up in prison because of you.”
Cade scoffed. “That will never happen.”
Once more, Tris felt the earth shift beneath his feet.
How was Cade so confident about everything?
Oh, right. He was a goddamn psychopath. But there were a lot of those in prison.
He wanted to continue the debate, but couldn’t shake the weird sloshing in his head.
“Are we… Do you feel weird? Woozy? Are we…moving?”
Cade went still, then snagged Tris’s hand and yanked him out into the hallway, slamming the door closed behind them. Tris allowed Cade to drag him along, honestly not sure he even cared where they were going. Anywhere was better than the room with the dead body.
Cade’s grip was firm but careful, guiding rather than restraining. The motion steadied Tris in a way he didn’t want to acknowledge, like being tethered to something solid in a world tilting out from under him.
Cade swung open a door that led to a metal staircase, then pulled Tris up a flight of stairs to the top deck. He let go of Tris’s hand to walk to the railing, looking down into the water below. “We’re definitely moving.”
“You didn’t tell me the ship actually left the dock,” Tris said, falling onto a chair and staring up into the inky blackness of the night sky.
Cade glanced back at him. “I honestly didn’t know. It seems like hubris to have a floating Titanic museum that actually goes out into icy waters. You know?”
Tris shivered. He really should have brought a jacket. It had been cold before, but now, with the wind cutting across the open deck, it was downright frigid. His teeth started to chatter.
“So, we’re t-trapped on open w-waters with the dead guy you just k-killed,” he managed, the cold seeping into his bones.
He stood, once more starting to pace. Though, this time, just to get warm.
This was surreal. How had this happened?
He’d gone from the best date of his life to the worst in one spectacular freefall.
Except, it wasn’t. It wasn’t the worst date of his life.
That was the real tragedy. No matter what had just happened, Tris was still content to be in Cade’s presence.
It was like his body hadn’t gotten the memo that the man beside him was dangerous. His pulse kept skipping for all the wrong reasons.
There had to be some kind of explanation for that…
right? Maybe it was his ADHD. A therapist had once told him that he had a problem with object impermanence and that was why he was able to cut people off so easily.
Out of sight, out of mind. Maybe that was why he cared less about the man in the pinstripe suit.
Or maybe he was in shock. Or freezing to death.
Whatever it was, being away from the body helped Tris feel like it was all a fever dream.
Like none of it had really happened. The night smelled like salt and metal, the water below black and bottomless, the sound of waves against the hull a low, hypnotic thud that made everything feel even less real.
A hand grabbed his bicep, turning him around, then Cade hugged him tightly, letting the heavy jacket he wore envelop Tris.
Tris stiffened. “What are you doing?”
“Keeping you from freezing to death while I figure out what to do next. Put your arms around my waist.”
Tris knew he should protest, but he didn’t. He couldn’t. He was too fucking cold. He slid his hands around Cade’s waist, a low sound leaving his throat at the warmth surrounding him. He tucked his head beneath Cade’s chin, closing his eyes.
His body went pliant almost immediately, like muscle memory, like his nervous system recognized safety even when his brain didn’t.
Thirty minutes ago, he would have been squealing internally at the chance to snuggle up against Cade like this.
But the shock was dampening it a bit. Though, not as much as it should have.
But in Tris’s defense, Cade smelled amazing.
It was one of those colognes that was somehow sharp and woodsy, but not overpowering.
Something expensive that still managed to smell like danger.
It made Tris press his nose against the base of Cade’s throat and inhale, his cock stirring at the deeply masculine scent flooding his senses.
Cade’s arms tightened subtly, not possessive but protective, his hand moving in slow, grounding circles on Tris’s back, like he wasn’t sure how else to say you’re safe with me. It was confusing as hell—wanting comfort from the man who’d just murdered someone—but Tris didn’t pull away. He couldn’t.
Cade sucked in a breath, tipping his head back, giving Tris better access.
Tris couldn’t stop himself from brushing his mouth against Cade’s Adam’s apple.
Cade’s arms tightened around him; Tris felt the man already half-hard beneath his hands.
He kept trying to remind himself he was literally in the arms of a murderer, but his body didn’t care.
He had to fight the urge to grind against Cade, settling instead for licking at the hollow of his throat.
Fingers threaded through Tris’s hair, pressing his mouth closer.
Heat flared in his gut—a stupid, traitorous bloom—while his brain kept shouting that this was a terrible idea.
He was so going to hell for this. Cade was a killer.
But even so, Tris wanted more. How could he be this worked up without even having properly kissed the man?
“If you don’t want this shit to go any further, you should probably stop doing that,” Cade warned, voice low and rough.
He was right. A thousand percent right. But Tris couldn’t stop. He twisted his hands into the shirt beneath Cade’s jacket, planting open-mouthed kisses on the skin he could reach while trapped in Cade’s hold. It was a trap, every touch a decision.
This was so not the time for this, but when Cade tugged his head back and slanted their mouths together, Tris opened for him before he could even think not to.
With Cade’s tongue in his mouth, one hand tangled in his hair, the other arm wrapped tight around his waist, he was more than warm—he was combusting.
His whole body was on fire. He wanted more.
He wanted to be closer. But no matter how tightly he clung, it wasn’t enough.
Cade walked them backward until they hit cold metal, and the chill made Tris gasp. Cade gripped his ass and lifted him up. Tris wrapped his legs instinctively around Cade’s waist, both of them groaning as their hips met. The friction sent Tris’s vision white at the edges.
After that, Tris’s brain checked out, his thoughts evaporating, leaving only the press of tongue and the roll of hips, the sound of their breath colliding. “Oh, fuck. What are we doing?” he managed when Cade broke the kiss to nip at his jaw and then his ear.
“Getting off,” Cade panted into his skin. “This is the best first date ever.”
Tris didn’t argue. He was two seconds from coming in his pants. He’d never even made out like this in high school. He’d been missing out.
“Are we really doing this?” he whispered against Cade’s throat.
“If you tell me to stop now, I will,” Cade said, “but I might hurl myself overboard afterward. No pressure.” He bit and sucked at Tris’s lobe, his voice a rasp.
“Oh, fuck,” Tris breathed, and drove his hips up against Cade.
“That’s happening as soon as we’re off this fucking ship. I promise.”
Tris pressed his face to Cade’s neck and hung on as they moved harder and faster until their motions blurred into one continuous grind and moan. The world narrowed to skin on skin. Then it happened: Tris’s orgasm ripped through him, and he let out a winded, raw cry that was swallowed by the night.
Cade didn’t stop; if anything he went harder, his teeth finding Tris’s throat in a rough, animal bite that made heat and fear spike together.
He worked himself with a punishing rhythm until he growled into Tris’s skin and both of them were gulping air.
When Tris finally put his feet back on the deck, his thighs trembling, he tried to ignore how unpleasantly sticky he felt.
“Now what?” he heard himself ask, voice small and dazed.
Cade smiled at him in a way that made Tris feel like he mattered. It was a soft, ridiculous smile—one that didn’t belong on a man who’d just killed someone—but it was there, and it was for him. “Now,” Cade said, casually shrugging, “we go toss that guy’s body over the side of the boat.”
Oh yeah.
That.