Chapter 24
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
SLADE
She blushes, and the pink on her cheeks is distracting. It’s a rhetorical question. Of course that’s my hoodie, and—I glance down at her creamy long legs—those are my Batman boxers.
Kill me.
I want to peel them off her. But like the fool I am, I had to go off with my theories on Batman and divulge too much about how I relate to the damn fictional character.
She’s looking at me with blown pupils and pity. Hell.
I heard the movie turn on while in my office.
Elliot said I had a free afternoon, and knowing Edmond and Stefan were gone for the day, I wanted to know what Thea was doing trapped in my house alone on a rainy day.
So, I came home to work. Hearing the introduction made me freeze while I was preparing a legislative proposal for my upcoming trip to D.C.
next week. We’ll be in session Tuesday through Thursday, and I’m already dreading leaving. Especially now.
She turned on one of my favorite movies.
“You went in my room to get a hoodie?”
She withdrawals her hand from my leg, and I berate myself. “Okay. Please don’t be mad, but Edmond bought all fancy clothes, stuff I’m not used to wearing. And with the rain all I wanted was something comfortable, and … I’m sorry.”
I purse my lips, thinking it through it for show. When in reality, I’m just shocked she felt comfortable enough to do so.
“I-I can take it off. If you want?”
A single eyebrow raises at the thought, and I shift. I’m tempted to milk the silence, see if she follows through, but her worried facial expression makes me cave.
“It’s fine, Thea.”
Her mouth twitches, and we stare at one another for a few seconds. I want to kiss her, finally put my mouth on her rosy lips and ease the need coursing through me. But what would she think? Instead, I stand, making my way to the kitchen.
“Hey, wait. Where are you going? Don’t you wanna watch?” She clambers to her knees, the couch depressing where she leans over the back, gesturing over her shoulder to the TV.
Oh, I’m not leaving. Not when she’s on the couch wanting company in my Batman boxers while The Dark Knight is on. Work can wait, and my avoiding her … impossible.
I study her face, reading the desperation in her wide, unblinking eyes. She wants me here? I smirk. “Let me grab the snacks.”
We argue over whether Frosted Flakes is an appropriate movie snack versus the popcorn she emerges from the pantry with.
When I take the cereal box back to the living room, she’s even more dumbfounded to find out I don’t eat my cereal with milk.
We settle in and the movie plays. She doesn’t ask questions, but she does periodically look at me with a wide grin on her face.
Sometimes it’s as if she isn’t watching the TV at all, just me.
Her gaze caresses over me, and my mouth goes dry.
If I respond with a look of my own, she glances away, face flushed. What is happening?
Nearly two hours later, the credits roll, and I look down at her sleeping form.
Halfway through the movie, she landed on me in a tangle of limbs.
I’ve sunk into the couch, legs spread wide, and she’s on her back, face slumped over toward my pelvis.
One of her hands rests loosely on my knee beside her face, fingers curled.
Her hair splays over my legs, soft auburn hair clashing against my black slacks.
With every minor puff of air, her scent wafts to my nose, and I shift, swallowing the uncomfortable feeling that this is too … comfortable.
I don’t move for the entire credits, and eventually another movie comes on, but I don’t dare get up. She looks peaceful. Trusting. I clench my hands on either side of me, fighting the instinct to touch her, not because I don’t want to—hell, do I want to—but because if I do, this might end.
A loud bang on the TV sounds, and she stirs, letting out a deep sigh that sends a craving to rival all others.
This suit is worth more than most people’s rent for the year, and she’s wrinkled it without hesitation.
The blanket draped across her slips with her subconscious movement, exposing her in my boxers that swallow her small frame.
The black band sits low on her hips, and my hoodie rides up on her next inhale.
I shift again, fisting my hands. Hell, I need to sit on them.
But …
Her creamy skin is smooth and soft as I allow the pads of my fingers to dance featherlight along the grooves of her lower ribs and below her belly button.
She tosses for a second before her body arches.
Her hips tilt in an unconscious response I didn’t earn.
Her brows draw together in a sharp crease, and her lips part with a soundless breath that almost breaks my resolve.
She’s beautiful.
The hand next to her face disappears as she brings it to flick away my light touches from her abdomen. I stop touching her, but when I do, her eyes blink open.
“Slade?” She looks around, eyes widening when she notices her head is on my lap. “Oh, gosh, I’m sorry.” She makes to move, but I can’t let her see me like this. I splay a hand over her bare stomach, cradling her in place.
“Not yet,” I grit out.
She moves her head to look up at me, and the faint brush against my inner thigh makes me close my eyes. I’m still lost to her. She looks at my hand still on her, and I wince, slowly removing it.
She grabs it. “Don’t.”
Studying her, I listen as the rain slaps against the glass.
Does she feel safe with me? She’s open to my touch, and that …
that knowledge is dangerous. I drag the back of my knuckles along her tummy once more, and watch her body chase the sensation.
The little lines at the bridge of her nose deepen, and a low sound rises from her throat.
She draws her lower lip between her teeth, and my desire to watch her grows.
I tease the sensitive skin above the boxers and watch her chest rise and fall in short, rapid inhales.
“Slade,” she whispers. “I … I …”
My fingers graze the band and I fist them in an effort not to cross a line. It’d be so easy. I nearly come undone at the thought. My fingertips dance lower—
A door slams. “They didn’t have fresh peaches. Who the hell doesn’t have fresh peaches in the summertime.”
Thea yelps, smacking my hand away while scrambling to sit up as Stefan walks through the front door. The front door. He’s fired.
She fumbles for the blanket and pulls it over her while inching away from me.
I snarl.
Stefan saunters through the open living room on his way to the kitchen. “Stupid damn bags.” He grapples with the multiple bags draped over each wrist, and between his hands is a large box. When he notices us, he freezes. “Oh, Thea. Slade.” He grimaces when he sees my face.
“Something wrong with the service entrance?” I scowl at him.
He shakes his head. “Nah. But the front door is wider. Is Edmond back yet?”
Thea pinches her lips together and shakes her head.
Stefan’s eyes dart between us. At the ridiculous amount of space now between us on the couch before he glances at the TV. “They didn’t have peaches.”
“How sad,” I deadpan.
He frowns. “I better put this away.”
Thea jumps up. “I’ll help you!”
She’ll what? Is she running away? She rushes to Stefan, smiling at him as she takes the box and follows him to the kitchen.
Damn peaches. She let me touch her; would she have let me keep touching her?
Stefan and his stupid peaches ruined a near-perfect moment.
I’m half tempted to ban the fruit from the house.
I’m left on the couch watching hell knows what and wondering how I’m going to get Thea out of EV permanently.
If I could, would she want me? Would she stay here?
Does it matter? There’s no way I can leave her to other men, whether she wants me or not.
And using her for my agenda—it’s falling apart.
I stand, shutting off the TV before rounding the couch, intent on heading back to my office, but then there it is. In the front hallway, where Stefan just came through.
Another one. Just like the others. And the ones before that.
A dandelion is propped on the decorative stack of lake photography books on the entryway table, and I stare at it, grinding my molars.
I march over and snatch the weed. It must be a day or two old, but the stem still bends without resistance.
The fluff puffs away as I close my fist over it and squeeze until the thing crumples into nothing between my fingers.
I don’t look at what’s left in my palm. Instead, I wipe my hands on my pants and turn on my heel, walking back to my office without a word.