Page 20 of Too Late

But it may not be a choice that’s left up to me …

THIRTEEN

SLOAN

“Your heart is beating so fast,” Asa says, dropping me onto the mattress.

Of course it is. This was probably the scariest five minutes of my life, not knowing if I could pull off the lie. Thanks to Carter, it worked.

“You kissed me the entire way through the house,” I say. “Of course it’s beating fast.”

Asa slides on top of me and presses his lips to mine, kissing me gently. He runs his hand through my hair, kissing down my chin and neck, until he gets to the base of my throat. He pauses and looks me straight in the eye.

“Do you love me, Sloan?” he says, his question coming straight out of left field.

I swallow and then nod.

He pushes up onto the palms of his hands. “Well then, say it.”

I force a smile as I look up at him. “I love you, Asa.”

He stares at me a moment as if he has an internal lie detector and he’s waiting to see if I passed. He slowly lowers himself on top of me and buries his head in my neck. “I love you, too,” he says. He rolls onto his side and pulls me to him. He holds me, rubbing his hand in soft circles over my back. I don’t remember the last time he touched me in this bed without it being directly related to sex. He kisses the side of my head and sighs.

“Don’t leave me, Sloan,” he says firmly. “Don’t you ever fucking leave me.”

The fierce yet desperate look in his eyes paralyzes me. I shake my head. “I won’t, Asa.”

His eyes scroll over every inch of my face. Lying here wrapped in his arms, watching him watch me with such intensity—I don’t know if I should feel loved or terrified. It’s a little of both.

He presses his mouth to mine and kisses me hard. He shoves his tongue deep into my throat like he’s trying to claim every inch of me from the inside out. There’s nothing tender about it, and when he tears his mouth from mine, he’s gasping for breath. He lifts up onto his knees and pulls his shirt over his head. “Tell me again,” he says, reaching to me and pulling both my shirt and bra over my head. “Tell me you love me, Sloan. That you’ll never leave me.”

“I love you. I’ll never leave you,” I whisper, praying the latter will soon be a lie.

He brings his mouth back to mine and runs his hands down my stomach until he reaches my pants. He’s kissing me with such intensity, it’s hard to catch my breath. He tries to pull my pants down, but he can’t seem to break away from my mouth long enough to do it. I lift my hips and remove my clothes, just like the whore I’ve become for him.

Because is this not the definition of a whore? Someone who compromises his or her self-respect for personal gain? Even if my personal gain is something selfless and has nothing to do with me and everything to do with my brother, it doesn’t change the fact that I’m having sex with him in exchange for something. Which … by definition … makes me a whore.

Hiswhore.

And from the possessive look in his eyes, that’s all he’ll ever allow me to be.

FOURTEEN

CARTER

There are few things worse than my sense of timing. As soon as I open the back door to walk inside the house, my ears are met with the final sound of Asa’s grunts coming from upstairs. I pause in the kitchen, not even sure why I’m listening to what he’s doing to her. Just the thought of it makes my stomach turn, especially knowing what he just did to Jess a matter of two hours ago.

When I hear footsteps upstairs and the bathroom door shut, I snap out of my trance and walk to the refrigerator. There’s a magnetic dry-erase board, covered in phone numbers, stuck to the front of the fridge. I grab one of the markers and press it to the board and write. Footsteps descend the stairs and I snap the marker back into place, then turn around just in time to see Asa round the corner.

“Hey,” he says. He’s barefoot and the only thing he’s wearing is his unbuttoned blue jeans. His hair is in disarray, and he has a smug grin on his face.

“What’s up?” I lean against the counter and watch him as he walks to the cabinet and grabs a bag of potato chips. He opens it and leans against the counter across from me.

“How’d it go last night?” he asks. “I haven’t even had a chance to ask you.”

“Good,” I say. “But I was curious. What if we could get to his supplier directly? There really isn’t a need for a middleman anymore, if the only reason you were going through him was for translation.”

Asa pops another chip into his mouth and licks his fingers. “Why do you think I brought you in?” He sets the bag of chips down and turns to the sink, running his hands under the water. “My hands fucking taste like pussy,” he says, scrubbing them with soap.

---