burst through my fingers.
“I’m sorry,” Slate whispered, his voice suddenly rough and desperate. “I keep trying to be quiet. I don’t want to keep you awake. You’ve done so much for me tonight.”
I dug my nails gently into his chest, prompting a sharp hiss of air, but it interrupted his pleas. “I’m not leaving you,” I said, short and simple as that. Every bone in my body wouldn’t let me, even if I’d wanted to.
Slate went still for a moment. Then, very gradually, he began to relax in my arms. Just a fraction, but it was enough that I found myself breathing again. I hadn’t realized I’d stopped.
“I shouldn’t have let him into my head,” Slate mumbled, his voice low. I had to hold still to make out the syllables, my nose pressing into his neck and my knees digging into his thighs. “You aren’t getting in the middle of anything, don’t worry. We’re not together, in any way.”
The poor guy was still explaining instead of answering me. Apologies came easier to him than admitting to his needs.
And yeah, I could understand that, but it didn’t stop me adding another item to the list of reasons I wanted to tear Isaac apart.
“That wasn’t what I asked,” I murmured. “I don’t need to know the nature of your relationship. I saw enough on your faces when we were leaving.”
The sigh Slate gave was resigned. He still didn’t come up with a straight answer, mumbling something about not wanting to keep secrets.
I waited, running my fingertips in very light circles across his skin, from his heart to his sternum, up to his collarbone and throat. His Adam’s apple shifted under my fingertips as I dragged them back down to his chest and pressed my palm against him again.
Grounding him. Reminding him where his heart was—who it really belonged to.
“No,” Slate finally whispered. He’d sounded broken earlier, but now he was just tired. Like he’d give anything not to be having this conversation. “No, I don’t feel safe here.”
Aha. That was a problem I could solve, and I leaped at the opportunity to seize it with both hands.
“Then we’re going to my place.”
Normally I’d be worried about someone getting the wrong impression of me. Or worse yet, the right impression.
If I wasn’t bringing a man back to my apartment for sex—and I rarely did, because Dom Nation was perfectly adequate—what was left? Romance? Friendship? No. The neat boxes of my life did not collide, thank you very much.
But there was no way in hell Isaac would know we were there—or be able to get into the building. So for tonight, I’d feel safer bringing Slate to my territory.
I sounded like a lion bringing home its catch, but hey, this was primal instinct. Who was I to question it?
“Yes,” Slate murmured, soft and hopeful. “That would help, for tonight. But…”
Here come the walls. I’d expected them. Whatever it took, I’d knock them all down.
I briefly considered knocking Slate out instead and carrying him to my den, but he might end up with a headache. And with the difference in our sizes, it would be less carrying and more sledging. Very undignified.
“It’s two in the morning. We’d have to get dressed again and call another taxi. I don’t want to drive when I’m so tired, and I was drinking earlier.” Slate was rationalizing, coming up with reasons why helping him was too much of a burden. Why he didn’t deserve it.
Bullshit.
Luckily, he responded well to a firm hand. So I slid my hand up to his mouth, enjoying the ridges of his collarbone, the soft flesh of his throat, the rough rasp of his stubble… and finally, I pressed my finger against his lips.
“It’s not your decision to make,” I told him, drawing the finger away to stroke down his arm. “It’s mine.”
No space for worry or guilt—just obedience.
A whoosh of relief escaped Slate’s lungs, and he sagged into the bed all at once. “Okay,” he murmured. Pride tingled in my chest and belly, a warm but steady glow. “If you’re sure,” he added, shifting onto his back and rolling his head to look at me with those worried eyes.
“Up you get. You can go as you are,” I told him, shoving my body against his to make him move.
Slate stared at me, even more immovable on his back. I was a wave breaking on his shore. “But… I’m in pajamas.”
My lips twitched. Oh, if only Slate knew the half of it. “I’ve had taxis