Exposed Exposed (Dom Nation #1) - E. Davies Page 0,19

pulled away from me again, I let him go, my arms falling to my sides, limp and useless.

But Slate’s eyes gleamed. “Are you going to invite me home?”

I gulped at the wave of yearning that swept through me at the invitation. Pre-invitation, really. My body and my brain disagreed on the answer, but now that the question was out there, I had to take a side.

Don’t ask me that, I begged. Please, Slate.

“I’m going to call you a taxi,” I mumbled, pinching the bridge of my nose as I searched for the sense of control that hadn’t escaped me so completely in years. Where the fuck was it?

Where was I?

“Mmhmm?” Slate tucked his thumbs into the waistband of his shorts, his biceps coming forward, framing the ripples of his pecs. His fingers framed… something else completely, which was difficult not to stare at. Below were his bare, strong thighs like tree trunks, and above was his bare belly and chest.

His face wasn’t safe to focus on, either. His eyes were wide and hopeful, and his lashes long. So fucking stunning.

“And send you home with something better,” I told him. I prayed I didn’t sound as shaken as I felt. Who the hell was this boy, to unravel all my tightly wound sense of self? “Cupcakes.”

Slate pouted and gathered his clothes, slowly dressing. Hiding his beautiful form under those fabrics ought to be a crime.

I turned away, picking up the box of cupcakes and my phone. I couldn’t stand to see the disappointment on his face or the reluctance in his movements.

It was better this way, I knew. I wouldn’t want the boy to think I could be his Daddy.

The ferocity of my rage he’d so easily whipped up on his behalf, the purity of my desire for his breathtaking submission, and even the sting of my own anger at him for trusting me… nothing in my head made sense tonight.

It scared me, how deep this was. How much I wanted to wrap myself up in his life and fix everything for him. Fix him.

Guide and steady and serve him, in the way a Dominant did.

Fuck. I’d never thought that before. Lightning ricocheted through my body. I dominated because I needed to. Because it satisfied that fucked-up side of me. I took pleasure, and yes, I gave it, too. But I sure as hell didn’t serve anyone!

The taxi came mercifully quickly, and I steered him out to the sidewalk, locking up the shop after me. I’d talk to all my friends inside and outside the club after Slate left.

That ought to remind myself who I was, and who I was supposed to be. Who I had to be.

We walked to the curb, my hand firm on his shoulder. Close by, from my keenly focused peripheral vision, I saw Isaac.

Shit. I had no time for identity crises. I was a Dominant, and Slate was my responsibility tonight.

The taxi driver arrived and cracked the window, squinting at the groups of men nearby. “Rex?”

That was us. Good.

Focused and calm, I opened the taxi door, gauging the distance between us and Isaac. He was wandering closer, squinting like he wasn’t sure who was with me.

Slate paused like he wanted to talk to me before he got in, but I pressed down on his shoulder to steer him into the taxi. “Move over,” I told him, adrenaline flooding my body. My voice grew sharp. “Make some room for me.”

It was a split-second decision, and my gut made the decision for me: I couldn’t let Slate go home alone.

Slate’s eyes widened and he stared up through the semidarkness. Shit. The light in the back seat was on, spotlighting him. But he didn’t see that Isaac was there.

If I could protect him from that knowledge…

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck, hurry up, you idiot! But I couldn’t rush, or he’d know something was wrong. And Isaac would see me running away, like I was scared of him.

Like hell.

Fighting the urge to slam the door and shout, Drive, I elbowed Slate over into the middle seat and slid down, settling the cupcake box in his lap. I shut the door, throwing us into darkness, and clicked the lock as the light overhead faded.

Slate tangled his hand in mine, squeezing with both hands. “Coming to my house?” His voice was sharp and excited.

“Hey.”

Fuck. Too late.

Isaac’s voice was sharp as he leaned against the driver’s-side window, bracing his hands on the sill.

The moment he did, Slate shrank away from him—and me. He didn’t