…And maybe she should have doubts about that, but not for the obvious reason, which is my wealth, but because while she’s as pure a soul as I’ve ever met, the black mark of death mars mine.

At that thought, I roll over to my back, staring up at the ceiling as a rush of fears and stressors cloud my field of vision.

Lakeland.Dad.What the hell am I going to do about Dad? Axel’s presentation of my options floats to the surface, and I accept that I’ve chosen the path of blissful ignorance.

And I guess…I guess I’m okay with that.

Inhale deep. Exhale long.

I repeat the mantra and slide my lids closed. There isn’t any use stressing over the mess. My singular focus is on Shae—keeping her safe and away from anything that could harm her.

I need her to stay untouched by all this shit.

So the stuff with my dad and Stratos? I’m sure he’ll come out just fine.

He always does.

Should he, though?

I can’t set aside what I saw at Axel’s place those weeks ago. The images haunt my dreams.

So I keep my eyes shut and focus on my breathing to bring myself to the happy little bubble that’s just for Shae and me…until her soft, tiny hand lands on my chest.

“Storm?” she says, her voice gravelly with sleep. “You okay?”

“Me?” I ask, rolling back to my side to face her, propping my head on my hand. “I’m fucking fantastic, baby.”

She gets an embarrassed look before burrowing beneath the comforter with just her eyes peeking out.

“Why you running away from me?” I ask, teasing her and trying to pull at the blanket, which she has in an iron grip.

“This is a lot, Storm!” she says, her voice muffled by the layers of fabric.

“What is?” I reply, chuckling at her as she tries to wrap herself in the covers. She wrenches the material from my palms, leaving me cold in my boxers while she’s trussed up like a burrito.

“I’ve never done a sleepover before, okay? First of all, my dad wouldfreak?—”

“I beg you not to mention your father when my dick is so close to you, okay?”

“—and I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I kinda like my space.”

I look around her tidy room. It’s filled with everything she could possibly want. In the far corner, novels and a few textbooks nearly overflow her tall bookshelf. Interesting contemporary art pieces cover the walls, and there’s what looks like a plant feature opposite a large bank of windows. A flat-screen TV hangs on the wall, and I’m pretty sure I saw a Roku remote nestled in the bed when we pulled everything back to go to sleep after round number three in Shae’s private shower.

“Ask for what you want, Shae,” I say, waiting for her to settle and tell me what’s on her mind.

“I want to take a shower again because your, um, mess is making an appearance this morning.”

While that idea might be gross to some, the idea of my cum leaking out of Shae’s well-loved pussy has me?—

“Nope! Get that look off your face, Storm Sandoval. You ain’t getting at this again. I’ll be showeringalone.”

I poke out my bottom lip.

“Laaame,” I drawl, grinning.

“Before I hop in, there’s a new toothbrush and toothpaste if you wanna use it.” She dives deeper into the bedding.

“Are you trying to say I got hot breath, babe?” I tilt my head and give her a sideways glance.