Chapter 54
Fifty-Four
CADE
Blinding rays of early morning light slice through the window and stab my eyes. Groaning, I tug the blanket over my head. It’s too bright in the living room in the morning. But even out here on the couch, I slept better than I have in years.
I hate that he was right.
I did need it.
Bad.
And here I was thinking my medication destroyed my sex drive. Nope. I’m just dick-whipped.
To Sebastian fucking Holt.
Punch me repeatedly, please.
The comforter slides to the floor as I sit up and stretch, catching a glimpse of my reflection in the blank TV screen. Hair stands in all directions. A shadow mars my neck— not a shadow. A bruise. From where Sebastian bit me like a fucking vampire.
My dick stirs at the reminder.
Slut.
As my brain comes online, new sounds filter through the sleepy haze. Birds. An idling engine. And voices. Angry voices.
Stumbling to my duffel, I massage the back of my neck (definitely kinked from sleeping on the couch like a stubborn idiot) and dig out my antidepressants and mood stabilizers.
Most days, I don’t feel like they do anything, but Dr. Bedi says that means they’re working.
Unfortunately, she might be onto something because the last time I went a few days without them, Mom hijacked my body and tried to drown me in the toilet.
So I take the pills.
The voices increase in volume as I shuffle to the garage. My eyes take forever to adjust to the bright Florida sun reflecting off the light grey driveway.
Sebastian comes into view first, his broad shoulders bunched with tension.
He’s holding two to-go cups of coffee, wearing the same backwards hat as yesterday.
Against my will, my gaze scans the length of his muscular build.
Dark denim clings to his long legs, a crisp white tee stretched over his sculpted chest. Impossibly, he seems bigger and more defined than ever.
Flashes of last night play across my mind. A heady rush tingles down my spine.
“You can’t keep him squirreled away like fucking Rapunzel!”
My attention rips from my stepbrother to the firecracker of a girl raging at him. And she is raging. Glossy dark brown and red hair dances across her shoulders as she slams a motorcycle helmet into Sebastian’s stomach, glaring up at him with enough vitriol to rival a spiteful goddess.
No one wears fury— or denim cutoffs— better than Andrea Sinclair.
“He’s not going anywhere near that crotch rocket, end of fucking story,” Sebastian growls. “It’s bad enough you ride that thing. You think I’m gonna let both of you fuck off on it?”
“You’re not in control of us, Sasquatch!”
I snort.
Both of them whip around.
“You slept on the couch,” Sebastian grumbles at the same time Andrea chirps, “Morning, sleepy head! You up for a ride?”
Not only is she here— meaning she read my journal and miraculously isn’t put off by the horror show that is the inside of my skull— but she wants to take me on a…
ride? My foggy brain takes way too long to connect the dots.
The helmet and right behind her, parked in the drive, is a murdered-out sport bike.
“Holy shit, church girl, that’s yours?”
Sebastian scowls. Andrea preens.
“Cade, meet Lillith. Isn’t she gorgeous?”
I bite my lip on a grin and slide my gaze from the bike to Andrea. “Sure is, but her rider is more my type.”
“Didn't you say assholes are your type?” She teases.
I shrug. “I like ‘em mean.”
She shakes her head, smirking. My stepbrother doesn’t seem as amused.
He marches over to me and thrusts an iced coffee in my hand.
I take it on reflex. Not because it’s thoughtful.
Or because it smells fucking incredible.
When his fingers brush back my hair, I tell myself to flinch away, but for some reason, I let him do it.
“Go inside and relax, baby.”
My mouth opens to tell him to go inside and choke on his own dick when Andrea smacks the helmet into his chest. “I told you already, we’re going to the Poached Egg.”
Sebastian’s nostrils flare. “And I told you already, he’s not getting on that death trap.”
“I could fuck up some pancakes,” I tell her.
She punches the air in victory, then punches Sebastian’s shoulder.
“Suck it!”
My stepbrother’s callused thumb and finger pinch my chin, forcing me to meet his hardened stare.
“I can make you breakfast.”
“No thanks.”
“I’ll drive you then.”
“No.”
His jaw flexes. “That thing is dangerous.”
“I don’t care.”
“I do.”
“Yoooohoooo!” Andrea calls, tapping her chunky boot impatiently. “I’m getting hangry and you know what happens when I get hangry? I get violent. Reeeeally violent. So it's in everyone's best interest to hurry the fuck up.”
I laugh, “But you’re cute when you’re mad.”
She props the helmet on her hip. “Murdering you both in a hanger spree isn’t cute.”
“Alright, alright, but if you feel stabby, murder this asshole first,” I say, hooking my thumb at Sebastian.
He huffs.
“Oh, his days are numbered," she simpers. Then snaps her fingers. “But seriously, chop, chop!”
Sebastian’s lips brush my ear. “If I let you go, I expect you back in one piece by noon.”
I’m supposed to be mad at him for a billion reasons, not turned on by the idea of another punishment.
Unfortunately, my dick really likes this side of him, which is extremely inconvenient because he’s an overprotective, irrational dumbass who couldn't be bothered to call or visit me for four years. Now he has the gall to act like this— the way I wanted him to years ago. To fearlessly touch me despite who’s around.
To look at me like I’m the only person in the room.
To know what I need without having to tell him.
It pisses me off.
“I’ll stay out as long as I want.”
His tongue traces his bottom lip. “You’re looking for trouble, aren't you?”
“Have you forgotten? I am trouble,” I murmur. Motherfucker. Why did that come out so flirty? I need to keep my horny mouth shut.
His hand slides to my throat, caressing the darkening bruise there. “I haven't forgotten a single thing about you.”
Needing to look at anything but him, I glance at the girl standing in the driveway, expecting her to burst into flames at Sebastian’s stalling. But I'm stunned to find her biting her lip as she watches us intently. Even more surprising… her expression is unreadable.
Suddenly, my limbs feel heavy.
Has it been so long that I can’t read her anymore?
Sebastian notices the shift immediately and twists to look at her, too. His shoulders drop with a sigh.
“You have two helmets?”
She gives him a deadpan glare. “Yes, Dad. Now can the kids go play?”
His gaze narrows. “I’m not fucking around, sweetheart.”
She lifts her fist, peels back her middle finger like a makeup compact and pastes on a terrifying smile. “And I’m about to shove this finger up your ass for calling me that.”
Sebastian shrugs. “Do it then.”
Um.
What?
That’s a new development. One I will definitely be noting.
Andrea sucks her teeth and squints. “I’m not afraid to call your bluff.”
He shakes his head with a chuckle. “Who’s bluffing? ‘Cause it ain’t me.”
“I believe that as much as I believe in God these days.” She spins on her heel, calling over her shoulder, “Times up! This bitch needs food and she needs it now!”
Before my six-foot-two cling-on tries stopping me, I dart to where Andrea straddles the bike. She pats the space behind her and winks. “Hop on, babe.” Then dons a bright red helmet with cat ears.
“Have I mentioned I’m obsessed with you?”
She flicks up the visor, sharply lined eyes sparkling with mischief. “No, but you can tell me more over French toast.”
Grinning, I chug my coffee and slide onto the seat behind her. Once my helmet is on, I snake my arms around her waist.
The engine roars to life, vibrating like a dragon beneath us.
“Ohhh shit, she’s sexy,” I groan, my already semi-hard cock digging into Andrea’s pert ass. She wiggles against my crotch, making me groan again.
“Hold on!”
We lurch and I almost fly off the back.
“Go the damn speed limit!” Seba yells, but his voice is instantly swallowed as we rocket down the street.