Chapter 16
Kane
I woke to the slow, wet heat of Charlotte’s mouth sliding down my cock.
For a moment I thought I was dreaming—one of those vivid, torturous dreams that had plagued me for the past two years. But then her tongue stroked along my shaft, lazy and deliberate, and I groaned as reality sharpened into perfect, aching clarity.
Definitely not a dream.
Her lips glided up and down my shaft with unhurried patience, like she had all the time in the world to suck my cock and take me apart. Her fingers teased lower, cupping and stroking my balls, and my hips lifted involuntarily toward her mouth.
“Fuck,” I breathed, the word rough with sleep and arousal.
I reached down and tangled my fingers in her hair, feeling the silk of it slide between my knuckles.
She hummed in approval. The vibration traveled straight through me, and I let myself sink into the sensation.
No thinking. Just Charlotte’s mouth working me over with an expertise that made my vision blur at the edges.
The pleasure built in slow, relentless waves. I used my grip on her hair to guide her, urging her faster, deeper. She took everything I gave her, throat relaxing around me until I was buried to the hilt.
“That’s it,” I gritted out, my body straining with the effort of holding back so I could enjoy this just a little longer. “Such a perfect little slut, letting me fuck your throat like this.”
She moaned around me, and the sound shattered the last of my control. I held her head in place with no resistance from her as the orgasm crashed through me. My entire body shuddered, my cock pulsing against her tongue as she swallowed everything like the good girl she was.
I collapsed back against the pillows, breathing hard, my body wrung out in the best possible way.
Charlotte released me with one last lingering lick, then kissed her way up my stomach. Across my chest. Her body slid over mine as she straddled my lap, her thighs warm against my hips. She framed my face in her hands and pressed a soft, almost chaste kiss to my lips.
Despite the weight of last night’s conversation still lingering in the back of my mind, I smiled up at her.
“If you’d like to scoot up a little further,” I offered, my voice still rough with arousal, “I’d be more than happy to return the favor.”
Charlotte’s smile was slow and satisfied—the smile of a woman who’d gotten exactly what she wanted. “This was all about you.”
“Mmm.” My hands settled on her hips, then slid down to her ass, giving it a squeeze. “Generous of you.”
She traced a finger along my jaw, her eyes warm with affection.
“Since the day I met you, I wanted to know what it felt like to have your cock in my mouth. To feel you lose control while I sucked you off.” Her voice dropped lower.
“To taste you when you came down my throat. You didn’t disappoint, Mr. Adair. ”
A groan rumbled through my chest. “You can’t say things like that and not expect me to flip you over and spend the next hour between your legs.”
Her laugh was bright and unbothered. “Tempting. But I’ll take breakfast instead. I’m starving.”
That didn’t surprise me. Charlotte was ravenous every morning, regardless of what we’d done the night before. The woman had an appetite that seemed entirely disconnected from logic or reason, but it was one of the things I adored about her.
Yes, adored. Not just tolerated or desired. Adored. Because somewhere along the way, my feelings for Charlotte had stopped being driven purely by attraction or unresolved anger. They’d shifted into a softer emotion, the kind that made a person start imagining something more permanent.
I didn’t know what the hell to do with that. Not when our history was this messy. Not when Calloway was still out there and our future beyond this safehouse was one giant question mark.
But denying the shift didn’t make it less real.
“You’re so fucking demanding,” I said, focusing on the here and now, and not a future that felt far too fragile to trust just yet. I gave her ass a light smack, savoring the way she jumped slightly against my lap. “Fine. I’ll make us something to eat.”
She leaned down and kissed me again—slower this time, with a hint of promise. “You’re my favorite,” she said in a teasing tone, because I’d learned she absolutely hated to cook.
“I’d better be,” I said gruffly, trying not to think too hard about how natural this all felt. The flirting. The easy touches. Like we were a real couple and this was normal for us.
It would’ve been easy to get used to this version of us. And that was exactly why I kept reminding myself not to.
She slid off me with a grace that seemed unfair given the circumstances and I watched the sway of her bare ass until she disappeared into the bathroom.
I lay there for another minute, staring at the ceiling and trying to reconcile the contentment spreading through my chest with the chaos of our situation.
I dragged myself out of bed, pulled on a pair of sweats, and made my way to the kitchen. I started the coffee maker first—I’d discovered that Charlotte needed caffeine before she could function as a human being—then pulled out eggs, cheese, and mushrooms for omelets.
As I cracked eggs into a bowl, my mind drifted back to last night’s conversation and Charlotte wanting me to bring Kohen into this hunt for the truth.
I’d spent most of the night trying to find holes in her logic, reasons to dismiss the idea entirely. But the problem was, she had a point. A good one.
Kohen had always carried a chip on his shoulder where I was concerned.
He needed to fight something, needed to prove himself, needed to be the hero of his own story instead of living in my shadow.
And if he wanted to do something genuinely good—something that mattered—taking down a human trafficker like Calloway was about as meaningful as it got.
Maybe Charlotte was right. Maybe this would help him. Maybe it would be good for Kohen to hear me ask for help and see that I could be humble, that I could admit when I was in over my head instead of always playing the competent older brother who had everything under control.
I’d never asked him for anything. Even when my life fell apart two years ago I’d kept him at arm’s length. I hadn’t wanted my brother dragged down with me, hadn’t wanted my mess to become his burden. At the time, it had felt like protection.
But maybe Kohen had seen it differently. Maybe he’d seen it as one more example of me shutting him out, treating him like he wasn’t capable enough to help.
Damn it.
I set down the spatula and braced my hands against the counter, letting the weight of the decision settle over me. My parents would never forgive me if something happened to Kohen because I’d pulled him into this. The thought sat heavy in my stomach, cold and unshakeable.
But the alternative wasn’t much better. We were stuck in a holding pattern, waiting for Tate to find something while Calloway’s people hunted for Charlotte.
For the first time since I’d started working with Sutton and the others two years ago, I genuinely wasn’t sure how long I could protect my client.
Every plan we had felt frustratingly inadequate.
Kohen was already on the inside. He had access, connections, the ability to move through channels we couldn’t reach. If anyone could find the evidence we needed, it was him.
And more than that—he deserved the choice. Charlotte was right about that, too. If our positions were reversed, I’d want to know. I’d want the chance to help, regardless of the risk.
How many times had I made decisions for Kohen “for his own good”? How many times had I not trusted him to handle things in the way that I would have, as if my way was always right?
If I kept doing that, nothing would ever change between us.
I set aside the pan and retrieved my personal cell phone before I could talk myself out of it. I turned it on, pulled up Kohen’s number, and called him before the doubt could creep back in.
It rang three times, four, before he finally picked up.
“Kane?” Kohen’s voice was wary, surprised. We hadn’t spoken in months. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah.” I leaned against the counter and let out a slow breath. “I need to ask you something. And I need you to hear me out before you say no.”