Page 291 of His To Erase
Steven nods, clenching his jaw. “You were the key. The second your name hit that paper, Frank would’ve had access to everything. That’s why he didn’t just kill you. He had to own you. None of your men would listen to him without it.”
My men?And that’s when it sinks in.Holy fuck.
“I can’t believe that fucker bought me.”
Steven flinches. “Yeah. Your ex sold you out, and Frank paid him off. And when you ran… he sent people after you. Then planted himself into your life to get you back.”
I press my hand to my stomach to keep from throwing up. I guess that explains why he was trying so hard to win me over. Funny how it never worked. Not really. There was always something off about him. I used to think it was because I didn’t want to date, turns out, it was just him.
Steven shifts. “I didn’t know. Not at first. I promise.”
“But you knew something.” I look up. “Didn’t you?”
He nods once. “I thought you were with Frank, and I thought you were part of it. Until I didn’t.”
“You were going to kill him.”
It’s not a question, because after everything I’ve learned, Frank’s days were already numbered.
His jaw ticks. “I was. That was the job. But then I saw you. And everything changed.”
I look away, blinking hard, hoping it’ll stop whatever the hell is building behind my eyes. I can feel myself getting wetter. Especially since Steven’s hand is now on my thigh, and he’s dragging his thumb in slow, lazy circles against my skin—each pass higher than the last. It’s distracting in the worst possible way. My brain’s trying to process bloodlines and betrayal, and my body’s over here dripping like it got the wrong memo.
“You could’ve told me.” I say, a little breathlessly.
“And you would’ve done what exactly? I didn’t exactly know how and once I started falling for you…” He swallows. “The truth got harder to give.”
I lean back trying to see his face, but his thumb is dangerously close to where I now desperately wish it was. “And the texts?”
“I told you I had Travis look into it,” he says, while he’s trying to distract me with his fingers.And it’s working.His thumb is now dragging slow, lazy circles over my clit, and he has zero plans to stop. I try not to squirm, but it’s hard to focus when every nerve in my body is leaning toward his hand.
“He hasn’t gotten back to me yet,” Steven mutters, like it's just a minor inconvenience. “We’ve both been a little… busy.”
He’s not wrong there. I don’t even want to think about what would’ve happened if he didn’t make it. That thought’s been stuck on repeat. “And your guess?”
He leans in and his mouth brushes my ear. A shiver goes down my spine and straight to my core. He starts rubbing circles again, making it really hard to concentrate.
“My guess is, it has to be Frank. The timing lines up too clean. Whoever it was wasn’t just trying to scare you—they were watching. Tracking your moves. They always showed up right before something went down.”
My blood goes hot, but my skin goes ice cold. “And you didn’t lead with that?”
His hand doesn’t stop moving. If anything, it gets slower. Crueler. “I didn’t want to dump more on you when you were already barely breathing.”
I stare at him, long and hard and when I finally speak, my voice is quieter than I mean it to be. “And now?”
His thumb slows, deciding how much he wants to torture me, no doubt. All I can see is heat in his eyes as he exhales, sliding his hand away with a slow, deliberate drag that leaves me aching. His arm slips around my waist and pulls me closer and I can feel how hard he is. Suddenly I can’t think of any more questions.
“Come on,” he murmurs against my hair. “You’re hurt. Running on fumes. And you can barely stand.”
I hum into his chest, eyes fluttering. “Not true. I can definitely stand… just maybe not on my own.”
“Exactly my point.”
His hand slides down my spine as he leans back slightly, fingers tilting my chin until I’m looking at him. “We’ll get you cleaned up, then you’ll rest.”
I blink up at him, caught somewhere between exhaustion and rebellion. And okay, maybe I want him to take control again.
So, I slide my palms up his chest, leaning in until my lips graze his. I whisper against the corner of his mouth—“Steven, if you don’t get in that shower and fuck the trauma out of me, I swear to God I’ll do it myself with your toothbrush.”
