I didn’t realize I was ticklish until now. I find myself squirming until I finally release her fist and let her jump down from the desk. She smiles at me and clears her throat. “Okay . . . I’m going now. Goodnight.”
“Why not just sleep in my bed?” I grab her body from behind and pull it close to mine. I have no idea what I’m saying or doing. All I know is that it’s late and I’m tired as shit. “Let Cale have his bed tonight. I’m pretty sure he’s bringing some chick home. He’s going to need the privacy.”
She hesitates before spinning around in my arms. “You don’t mind me sleeping in your bed?” Her eyes narrow as she watches for my reaction.
For some fucking reason, at the moment, I don’t. “Nah. Tomorrow you can go back to hating me from a distance. Tonight, you can hate me from my fucking bed.”
I watch her as she walks past me and crawls into my bed. She doesn’t say another word. She just looks up at me and keeps her eyes on me until I crawl in beside her and flip the lamp off. It only takes a few minutes before I crash out.
It’s the middle of the night and I try to roll over, but I can’t. That’s when I realize that there’s a body draped over mine. My eyes shoot open and I sit up in a panic, causing Aspen to move but not wake up. I forgot she was in my bed.
I don’t know what the fuck I was thinking when I asked her to sleep in my bed with me, but it’s so unlike me. It must’ve been the adrenaline of finally getting her to have sex with me. That’s my only excuse.
Stepping out of bed, I search for a cigarette in the darkened room, open the window and light it. I really need to get my shit together. My whole body is shaking and I’m covered in fucking sweat.
I take a huge drag, close my eyes and let the harsh smoke fill my lungs before releasing it. I have to admit that she looks fucking beautiful lying there naked on my sheets and the thought of slipping back inside her is eating at me. It felt good. A lot fucking better than I expected it to. I had never been so turned on in my life.
Fuck!
I put my cigarette out on the windowsill and take a deep breath while running my fingers through my hair, to keep from punching something. I need to get the fuck out of here. I need to go down to our gym and work this shit off. Like now.
Fucking get a grip, Slade.
Chapter Twelve
Aspen
Rolling over, I lazily open my eyes and stretch; a very long, hard stretch. It only takes me a few seconds for my eyes to focus and remember where I’m at: Slade’s room. Panic sets in and I sit up straight, pulling the sheet over my naked body. I was sleeping so well that I forgot where the hell I was at. Not a good thing. Not good at all.
Shit! Shit! Shit!
I back up against the wall and look around to see I’m alone in the big, quiet room. Slade must have gotten up in the middle of the night and left. A part of me is glad. The last thing I want to do is face his smug ass and listen to him rub in the fact that he finally got what he wanted; not to mention that is was great. It was the best I’ve ever had and I can’t deny it. My body already gave me away.
I tried so hard to resist. I really did, but he’s too good. He’s damn good at getting what he wants and he knows it. He knew I would eventually cave in and put my hate and frustration into fucking him. It’s what he wanted. He likes it rough and meaningless. Well, that’s exactly what he got.
While mentally cursing to myself, I jump out of his bed and look around for something to put on. I really need to get out of his room before he comes back. I don’t want to see him right now. I can’t.
Shit. Why did I let him rip my dress?
Cale is probably downstairs sleeping on the couch and there’s no way I’m going down there naked and risking him waking up to see me. I really doubt he needed the bedroom like Slade said. I think Slade just wanted another thing that he could be in control of. Well, I’m sick of him being in control. I’m out of here.
I rush over to the closet, almost tripping over the sheet, but I catch myself just in time and untangle it from my legs. Reaching for the handles, I slide the doors apart and step into his very big and neat closet. I’m surprised to see how organized he actually is; shocked actually.
I walk all the way to the back in hopes I can find an old shirt that he will never miss. I don’t know how he would react to me wearing one of his good shirts. When I get to the back my eyes land on a huge row of business suits; very expensive looking business suits.
What. The. Hell.
I run my fingers across them while counting inside my head.
. . . 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14. Fourteen suits! Why so many?
I look up to see there are more suits stacked up on the top shelf of his closet. I don’t understand what kind of stripper slash fucking bartender needs so many suits. Nice ones at that. These look and feel very expensive.
Pulling my eyes away, I take a step back and look around. There are stacks of shoe boxes with expensive brand names lined up under the hanging suits. Then, to my right there is a whole rack of ties. There is definitely more to Slade than I know; more than what he shows us. I’m definitely curious.
Gripping the sheet tighter, I walk back toward the front of the closet and look up at the shelf when I notice a pile of plain black shirts stacked on top of each other. I’m pretty positive he won’t miss one of these.
I reach up and try to pull the bottom one out from the stack, but am not having much luck. I’m all the way on my tip toes and I can still barely get it in my reach.
Come on . . .
My fingers pinch the thin fabric and I tug, pulling the whole pile down with it, along with a shoe box. The shoe box lands on its side with the lid knocked off, causing a bunch of pictures and letters to fall out. I quickly struggle to gather the belongings and stuff them back inside before Slade comes back. The last thing I want him to think is that I’m snooping through his things. He definitely would not be happy about that.
After getting everything stuffed back inside, I am just about to replace the lid when a photograph catches my eye; one that has me very curious. I set the lid down beside me and reach into the box. My eyes scan the ultrasound, checking out dates, names and any other thing that may give me a clue as to why Slade has it stacked away in his things.
Helena Valentine, December 2011.
The baby is huge. It has to be at least eight months gestation. It’s from over two years ago. It makes me wonder if this child is his. I really cannot imagine him with a child. It doesn’t seem like him.
Setting the photo aside, I dig a little deeper into the box to find photos of a very beautiful pregnant woman. She has long, blonde hair, sun kissed skin and a flawless smile. She looks happy; like the happiest woman on earth. She’s holding her swollen belly, showing it off to the world as if she’s the proudest woman in the world.
In a few of the photos, Slade is in the pictures with her, but he looks different; much different.
He’s clean cut with short black hair, no tattoos and the most beautiful smile I have ever seen. I also notice that the scar on his cheek isn’t present in the pictures. He looks so happy; nothing like the Slade I see today. He’s laughing in almost every single one of them and even kissing her belly in one. He’s wearing a suit in a few of them. He looks very professional and handsome.
I hate to feel like I’m prying, but it makes me wonder where this Helena is at. Where is this baby? Did he leave her and now regrets it? Is she still around, but a dark secret that he doesn’t want anyone to know about? There are so many possibilities that my head is spinning. I feel lightheaded trying to piece it all together. Slade may be a lot of things, but I don’t take him for reckless abandonment.