Too Late

  Her voice is sad. I want to kick off my shoes and dive in the water and stay there with her forever. Just not in this pool or at this house.

  "What's her name?" she asks, still quiet and staring at the night sky.

  I squeeze the back of my neck, wondering how much I should actually reveal. "Tillie."

  She laughs, but not because she finds it entertaining. "Is she your girlfriend?"

  I sigh. "She's just a friend, Sloan. Sometimes she does favors for me."

  Sloan's whole body sinks under the water. She sinks all the way to the bottom. When she emerges, she's shooting daggers at me. It isn't until I see the look on her face that I realize what I just implied.

  I bring my hands up behind my head. "Not those kinds of favors, Sloan. Jesus."

  She pushes her wet hair off her forehead and I try not to look at any other part of her other than her face, but it's really fucking difficult when she's soaking wet.

  "What favor was she doing for you Friday night that required you to have your hands all over her?"

  I hate how calm she is because I know she's raging on the inside. Which means she's likely to explode any minute now. I feel like the edge of this pool is the edge of a volcano.

  "Answer me. What favor was she doing for you Friday night?" she repeats.

  I answer honestly. "She was helping me to try and convince Asa that I'm not interested in fucking you."

  I don't have to be staring at her chest to notice her gasp. She tries to hide it, though. She stares at me for a moment and then dips under the water again. She swims to the shallow end and then stands up and walks out of the pool. Both her bra and underwear are nude, completely see-through, and making me paranoid as fuck. I'm half-afraid Asa will be able to hear my pulse from his room.

  Sloan continues walking around the pool until she's standing right in front of me. Even then, she steps closer. So close, I can feel the wetness from her bra pressing against my chest.

  "Are you? Interested in fucking me?"

  Jesus Christ. What is she doing?

  I fight my own hands as they slide to her hips. "Not really," I say, my voice rough. "I'm much more interested in making love to you."

  She's breathing heavily now, but nothing compared to me. I want to fucking kiss her so bad, but it would definitely be the kiss of death, because I would never stop.

  That, or she'd kill me if I tried. I can't tell if she's still angry with me or not. She acts like she wants me to touch her--to kiss her. But she's looking at me like she wants to throw me in the pool and hold my head underwater.

  She slides her hand to her hip, covering my hand with hers. She wraps her fingers around mine and then drags my hand slowly across her stomach and up to her breast.

  I swallow hard and glance up at her bedroom window. "What are you doing, Sloan?"

  She leans in and stands on her toes until her breasts are pressed against me. I close my eyes and slip one of my hands around to her lower back. My fingertips dip into the back of her underwear and I pull her to me.

  Her lips meet my ear, and she whispers, "Do you get a promotion if you make it to third base with your subject's fiancee?"

  My eyes pop open.

  I carefully thread my fingers through her hair, tugging her head back so I can look down at her. "You aren't making any sense, Sloan."

  She smiles, but the betrayal in her eyes is much more evident. "I know what you are," she says. "I know what you're doing here. And now it all makes sense why you're so interested in me."

  She pulls away from me, stepping back until my hands are no longer on her. She's shooting daggers at me with her eyes. "Don't fucking speak to me ever again or I'll tell every last one of them you're undercover. Luke."

  She tries to walk past me, but I immediately step in front of her and cover her mouth with my hand. She tries to scream and my eyes flick to the back door. No one has seen us yet, but I need to get her somewhere more private before she does something to get us both killed.

  She tries to pull my hand away, clawing at it with her fingernails. I wrap my arms around her and force her to walk to the side of the house with me. She gets even angrier when she realizes what I'm doing, so she starts fighting me with all her strength. I hate having to use this much force on her, but it's for her own protection. When I finally get her to the side of the house, behind the protective shield of trees, I push her against the wall and keep my hand over her mouth.

  "Stop, it Sloan," I say, looking her dead in the eyes. "Listen to me. Be quiet and listen to me. Please."

  She's breathing heavily against my hand, gripping my wrist with both of hers. When she finally stops struggling, I press one hand against the house beside her head and I slowly begin to remove the other from her mouth.

  She's panting with fear by the time I put my other hand beside her head. I press my forehead to hers. "Everything I've ever said to you. Every look I've given you. Every time I've touched you. It was never for the job, Sloan. Not one fucking time. Do you understand that?"

  She doesn't respond.

  I wince, because I hate that I've put her in this position. I hate that she even doubts me. I hate that I've given her all the reason in the world to. And I hate that I don't know a single goddamn thing I could say to make her believe what I feel for her.

  I lean in and kiss the side of her head, then I lower my arms and wrap them around her.

  I don't try to convince her with more words.

  I don't feed her apologies that are way too late.

  I just hug her, because I can't stand to know she's feeling what she's feeling.

  After several moments of being frozen stiff in my arms, she slowly begins to relax. Her hands come up and fist my shirt, and she begins to melt against me. She presses her face against my chest and starts crying, so I cradle her as tight as I can.

  I squeeze my eyes shut and whisper in her damp hair. "You're all I see, Sloan. Beyond the job, beyond right and wrong. You're all I see."

  I press my lips to the side of her head, and when I feel her mouth press against my neck, I pull her closer. She's still gasping for breath, probably a combination of fear, anger, and our current proximity. We find each other in the dark, and when our lips finally meet, it's as if she's silently begging me to kiss away her doubts.

  I do. Our mouths war in desperation. I push her against the wall of the house again. Every second that passes is a second that never should have passed at all, but I can't stop what's happening. All I can think about is how I can get more of her.

  When I press into her, she moans against my mouth, and that sound pushes away everything else. The anxiety, the common sense. My need for her completely takes over, and based on the way her hands are sliding inside my shirt, so does hers.

  I'm in the fog and I don't see myself finding my way out of it anytime soon.

  Fucking hell.

  My mouth works its way down her neck. I bring one of my hands up to her breasts and slide it between her skin and her bra. I'm met with skin as smooth as silk. "God, Sloan," I whisper, dragging my mouth up her neck again. When I reach her lips, she dips her tongue in my mouth and her hands fall to the button of my jeans.

  I lift one of her legs to my side. Then the other. "My car," I whisper, wrapping her around me.

  It's dark enough outside and the property is encased with enough trees that I'm not worried about neighbors seeing us as we climb in my back seat. The only thing I'm worried about is the fact that her fiance is inside the house and getting caught would mean...

  I don't even want to think about that right now. Dalton hasn't texted me yet, so we've got time.

  I shut the back door and reach over the front seat, grabbing a condom out of the glove box. When I fall back against the seat, she's sliding on top of me, mouth on mine, hands on my chest.

  Down my chest.

  I lift her bra over her breasts and work my mouth over her at the same time she frees me from my jeans.

  Once I get the condom on, I grab her hi
ps and position her on top of me while she pulls her panties aside. I lean my head back against the seat so I can watch her face as I enter her.

  We make eye contact and I begin to lower her on top of me, slowly. Everything grows much quieter in the car as we both hold our breaths. My eyes never leave hers the whole time she's taking me in. When we're finally skin to skin and I'm fully inside her, we simultaneously release a sharp exhale.

  "My God," I whisper.

  It's the best thing I've ever felt--finally being inside her.

  It's the guiltiest I've ever felt--knowing how much danger my lack of willpower is putting her in.

  She leans forward and wraps her arms around my neck. "Luke," she breathes against my lips.

  I fucking die.

  She called me Luke.

  My mouth finds hers again and I kiss her the way she deserves to be kissed. With conviction. With respect. With feeling.

  She begins to move on top of me and she's all I see.

  I close my eyes and she's all I fucking see.

  I had no idea it could feel like this.

  That sounds so cliche, even as I'm thinking it. But his hands, his mouth, the way he touches me--it's like my response is what he lives for.

  And right now, the only thing I'm focused on is the way he's moving his hand against me, touching me in just the right place that I'm afraid I might not only wake Asa up, but the entire neighborhood. As if he can sense this, he covers my mouth with his, stifling my moans as I crush myself against him. My legs begin to shake, my arms, my whole body, as the greatest sensation I've ever felt slams through me.

  "Luke," I moan against his lips.

  As weak as I am in this moment, I find the strength to continue moving until I'm the one having to stifle his sounds. His mouth is incredible. He tastes like fruit. He tastes sweet.

  Nothing like the bitterness I swallow when I kiss Asa.

  When we're both no longer shaking, and I'm still on top of him, he leans forward and feathers his lips across my shoulder.

  I don't know how I went from hating him two hours ago in the kitchen to feeling more for him in this moment than all the days before combined.

  Knowing that he's not like Asa...that's he's the complete opposite of Asa...it's so...attractive.

  He's good. He's a good guy. They actually exist.

  It all came together like an epiphany while I was floating in the pool. Him calling himself by the wrong name. Him taking a Spanish class that is years beneath his ability, only to conveniently be in there with me. The way he continued to reassure me that I needed to trust him, but he would never say why. Using another girl as a decoy.

  That was the kicker. I figured that one out before he even came clean at the pool.

  When Dalton said Carter...or Luke, rather...was telling the truth, I knew there was more to it. More to her. More to him blatantly making out with someone else when he's in the same house as me. I told myself that if he came outside and denied ever being with her that I would know then that he's a liar. That he's just like Asa.

  But if he came outside and told me the truth--that he was using her to throw Asa off--then I knew I was right. I had him pegged.

  I just didn't know which one I preferred to hear. That he was just like Asa...or that he'd been using me this whole time.

  As soon as he realized I had figured it out, I was expecting that to be the end of us. I thought he would fear for his job and try to cut some kind of deal with me to keep me quiet. Because guys like him...guys with careers, who are good and successful and kind...they don't fall for girls like me.

  Or at least that's what I was raised to believe.

  But I was wrong, because he's not worried about his job. When he says all he sees is me, I believe him. Because all I see is him. And right now I want to soak up every second of him.

  His arms are wrapped around me and we're both just trying to catch our breath. This was stupid. We both know it, but right now I would say it was completely worth it.

  "As much as I wish you could stay right where you are forever, you should go back inside," he says.

  I know he's right, but I wish he wasn't. Inside is the last place I want to be after this. I run my fingers through his hair and can smell the fresh scent of shampoo. I bend forward and sniff his hair. "You showered? Before you came back to the house?"

  He smiles, I can see it even in the dark.

  "So you showered and you had condoms in your car? Were you expecting to get laid tonight?"

  He drops his head against the headrest and a slow, satisfied grin stretches across his lips. "I showered because I like to look good for you. I have a condom in my car because I like to be prepared. And it's been there for six months, in case you're curious."

  I was, but I don't have a right to be. He knows what still happens between Asa and me at night. If I could stop it I would, but it's just not an option right now. Not until I'm no longer in this house.

  But we don't talk about that. About the fact that I'm still with Asa, and about how what just happened between Luke and me wasn't right, no matter how right it felt. But I honestly don't care that I just cheated on Asa. I should feel guilty, but I don't.

  Karma's a bitch, Asa Jackson.

  Luke runs his thumb over my arm and pushes down my bra strap. He dips his thumb under it, rubbing back and forth. "Sloan?"

  I'm tracing his jaw. He has a great face. Masculine in all the right places, but a hint of soft femininity to his lips. "Yeah?"

  "How did you figure it out?"

  I grin. "You're all I see, Luke. And I'm really smart."

  He nods. "Yes, you are." He presses his palms against my back and pulls me against him, but before his lips meet mine, my back hits the seat and he's hovering over me, covering my mouth with his hand. "Be still," he whispers, looking out the front window.

  My heart feels like it climbs up my throat.

  We're dead. We're dead.

  We. Are. Dead.

  I hear a heavy pounding against the window, but I'm not so sure it isn't just my heart. "Open the fucking door!"

  I close my eyes, but feel Luke's mouth press against my ear. "It's just Dalton," he whispers. "Stay down."

  I nod and cover myself with my arms as Luke sits up and opens the door. Something comes flying into the back seat, and Luke catches it in his arms. "What the fuck!" Luke says, gathering whatever Dalton just threw at him.

  Dalton leans in through the door and looks at me. "Next time you two decide to sneak off and fuck, make sure you take your clothes with you."

  Luke hands me my shirt and jeans that Dalton just threw at him. I frantically pull my shirt over my head, embarrassed that we were so careless.

  "Is he awake?" Luke asks Dalton.

  Dalton eyes him hard, saying so many things with that look that I don't even begin to understand. "No. But you need to leave before you get us both killed." Then Dalton turns and looks at me. "And you need to get back in the house before Carter gets you killed."

  He stands up, and right before he slams the car door, he says, "We need to talk before you leave, Carter."

  I'm struggling into my jeans and Luke reaches over to help me. I really should keep calling him Carter in my head, otherwise I'll likely slip up and call him Luke around Asa.

  "Are you in trouble?" I ask him. I button my jeans and then straighten out my shirt. He slides a hand around to the nape of my neck.

  "I'm always in trouble, Sloan. I wish I could tell you I'm good at my job, but I think this has proven that my priorities are a little out of line."

  I laugh. "I personally think your priorities for the past half hour were spot-on."

  He kisses me and says, "Go. Be careful."

  I kiss him back, hard. And when I walk away from him this time, it doesn't hurt quite as much. Because now I have hope. Hope that he has a plan to get us out of this mess.

  I smile the entire time I'm in the shower, because when I opened the back door and walked into a spotless kitchen, I knew witho
ut a doubt it had been Carter who cleaned it.

  No one--and I mean no one--has ever lifted a finger to help me around this house. I'm not sure I've ever heard that cleaning is the way to a girl's heart, but based on my reaction, I'd say it's the way to mine. Because I nearly cried when I heard the dishwasher running.

  That's really sad. Loading a dishwasher means more to me than an engagement ring? From the outside looking in, it would seem my priorities are way out of line, too.

  But I much prefer them this way.

  Asa is passed out on the bed when I walk into our bedroom. He's sprawled across the whole mattress, naked.

  Great. I'm going to have to try and wake him up or roll him to his side of the bed, but he's way too heavy for me.

  I walk around to his side of the bed and grab his arm and try pulling him across the mattress. He doesn't budge, but he does groan between snores.

  Then...he vomits.

  All over my damn comforter.

  I close my eyes and try to remain calm. Of course he would ruin this beautiful night.

  He continues vomiting between bouts of groaning, filling the room with an acidic smell. I rush to the desk and retrieve the trashcan, then I lean over him and lift his head so that he's vomiting into the trash can.

  He throws up two more times and then finally, after a few minutes of calm, he opens his eyes. When he looks up at me, the terrifying look in his eyes from earlier is gone, replaced with a childlike innocence. "Thank you, baby," he mutters.

  I place the trashcan back on the floor and then put my hand on the side of his head. "Asa, I need you to try and stand up. I need to take the comforter off the bed."

  He rolls over, away from the vomit, and pulls a pillow to his chest, falling back to sleep almost immediately.

  "Asa." I shake him, but he's out again.

  I stand up and look around the room, trying to figure out how I'm going to do this without having to go downstairs and ask for help.

  There's no way I can do this by myself, and I'm not about to sleep downstairs on the couch. Not with Jon here. I'm praying Dalton or Carter are still here, because letting Jon or Kevin know that Asa is out cold will not be doing me any favors when it comes to my safety.

  To my relief, Carter and Dalton are standing at the door preparing to leave when I make it downstairs. Carter stands alert when he sees me.