Page 242 of Things We Left Behind
“Right now, I don’t give a fuck, Mother.” I saw the flash of pain and the blur of movement. The crack of her hand against my face rang out.
Grace made a move, but Sloane got there first and shoved her way between us. “Excuse me,Kayla!” Fury was a fire that lit her up from the inside. She put her finger in my mother’s pale, dignified face. “You do not ever,everlay a hand on him like that again. After everything that you two have been through, you hit your son for protecting you from a certifiable sociopath? That’s insane.”
“That’s enough, Sloane,” I said, resting a hand on her shoulder.
She was vibrating against me.
“It’s not nearly enough. You have the worst taste in men. Anthony Hugo is a walking red flag, and youinvited him to dinner. Oh, and if you want to spend your money on whatever you want, then get a fucking job, lady. You only get to be a victim for so long before you have to evolve into a survivor,” Sloane continued.
“You don’t understand what it’s like,” Mom said with a tearful whisper.
“I wanted to be nice to you, to have empathy for poor, victimized Kayla. But that was two decades ago. You’ve had twenty-plus years to grow up. Yet here you are, all those years later, still perfectly comfortable playing the victim. Still accepting your son’s checks because you’re too fragile to stand on your own two feet. He doesn’t owe you, lady.Youowehim. For every time he stepped between you and the man you chose over him. For every time you made him responsible for your choices. I’m trying not to blame you for that, but you’re making it really fucking hard.”
Sloane was shouting now. My head of security was nodding in agreement.
“You are not to have any contact with Lucian until you can apologize for every shitty thing you’ve done to him,” Sloane announced.
The elevator doors opened into a parking garage. Both my cars were waiting, engines running, and half a dozen of my security team were stationed outside.
My mother gasped and hurried out of the elevator.
“Enough,” I said quietly.
But Sloane wasn’t finished. “And another thing. Go to therapy!” she called after her.
I grabbed Sloane around the waist. “Take my mother home,” I ordered Grace, nodding at the first SUV.
I half carried Sloane to the second one and deposited her in the back seat before sliding in next to her. The door slammed shut, casting us into darkness.
“Hey! You promised me din—”
I cut off her accusation by crushing my mouth to hers.
42
A Volcano of Lust
Sloane
We barely made it home.
I knew Lucian had important, vital things to take care of. Like destroying a crime boss who had just threatened our lives. I trusted him to handle it, I realized.
I didn’t trust the man not to crush my heart into a pancake, but I trusted him with my life.
All that was very important. But there was one thing that trumped them all. It had been weeks since we’d been together—orgasmically—and crime boss or no crime boss, I was a volcano of lust.
“That was so fucking hot,” I murmured against his mouth as he carried me over the threshold and kicked the door shut behind us. My legs were locked around his waist, my hands fisting in his hair, holding him to me.
I knew what had gotten into me, but I wasn’t sure why Lucian had turned ravenous beast the second he’d pushed me into the back seat after I’d gone all “shrew” on his mother. At the moment, I didn’t particularly care.
“What was?” he demanded, yanking the straps of my dress down.
“You being all ‘ho-hum, I’m so bored by your pathetic threats,’” I said, kissing and biting my way down his neck.
He growled, and the vibrations rippled through my nipples that were plastered against him. “You have two seconds to help me get you out of this dress, or I’m going to destroy it.”
I didn’t move fast enough for his liking and found myself perched on the cold marble of the entryway table. The man had the top of my dress wrestled to my waist in seconds with only one or two horrendous ripping noises.
