Her eyes are full of regret, but I don’t feel bad. It’s her own fault for coming at me like she did. At least that’s out of the way, though. It was becoming tedious to keep up with that lie for so long, I was starting to get sloppy with it.

I release her wrists and bring my hand to her face, running the back of my knuckles across her cheek. “Should we kiss and make up now?”

She nods, and when I press my lips to hers, I exhale with relief. Because for a split-second when she was walking toward the front door, I thought maybe she was serious about leaving. I thought maybe I would never get to taste her like this again.

I’m relieved it was an empty threat. I don’t know what I’d do if I ever found out she didn’t actually love me. She’s the only one who does.

She turns her head to the side and gives me access to her neck. As I kiss my way down her body, she begins to relax.

When I finally have all her clothes off, she spreads her legs for me. I press against her. “Do you love me, Sloan?”

She nods, then says, “Yes, Asa. I love you.”

My tongue dives into her mouth at the same time my dick dives inside of her.

Inside of her-where I’m the only man who has ever been. Where I’m the only man who’ll ever be.

“You’re mine, Sloan,” I whisper, fucking her just like she likes to be fucked. She grips my arms and squeezes her eyes shut.

She feels it so deeply, she cries the whole time.

SLOAN-37

Sloan

I close my eyes and allow the spray of water to beat down on my face.

What was I thinking?

Confronting him alone? Not warning Carter what was about to go down? That was really dumb.

But in my defense, it’s hard to think when you’re in a blind rage.

After I left my doctor’s appointment this morning, I got the call from the social worker. I had been driving toward campus, and when she revealed that my brother’s care wasn’t private pay, I lost it. Completely lost it. I turned the car around and drove straight to my brother’s facility to meet with her. By the time I left, I had never been that angry.

The only thing I could think about was Asa and how I wanted to kill him. Rage really does blind you. When I walked into the kitchen to confront him, I didn’t care that he could hurt me. I just wanted to know if it was true-if he’d somehow been sending me forged letters from the government. I didn’t want to believe it, because believing it would mean he is certifiably insane. But the only type of person who could invent a lie like that and keep it up for two years has to be certifiably insane.

I remember the day he brought over my mail after we broke up the first time. The benefits letter was on top. After I read the letter, I was devastated. The bastard actually comforted me-told me if I ever needed anything, he’d help me in a heartbeat. He said, “That’s what you do for the people you love, Sloan. You help them.”

That was back when I believed he actually loved me and it was a heartfelt gesture. Now I think it’s more of a psychotic obsession.

I had nowhere else to go, and thanks to what I thought was about to happen to Stephen, I ended up being forced to ask Asa for help. It was a last resort, for sure. Hell, I even called the number on the form that day to see if I had any other options. Now I realize it was obviously a fake number with one of Asa’s friends on the other line, but I didn’t realize it at the time.

The hot water mixes with the tears that are now streaking down my cheeks.

How could I have fallen for it for so long? All the pieces are still coming together, right down to why he only lets me use his car on Sundays to go visit Stephen.

The social worker doesn’t work on Sundays. There would be no chance I’d ever run into her and strike up a conversation about his benefits.

I still can’t wrap my mind around it and it’s been hours since I found out. I try to tell myself it took me so long to find out the truth because I had no reason to think he would do something like that. But I had every reason.

That’s what Asa does.

He’s a liar. A cheat. He sabotages people. He sets people up.

I’m so angry with myself right now, I scrub my body even harder, wanting to get his smell off me. I’m scrubbing my neck when the shower curtain flies open. I gasp and move so that my back is against the wall and I can better fight him off if it comes down to that.

Asa is standing in front of me, completely dressed now. Dark blue jeans and a crisp, white t-shirt. It makes the tattoos on his arms look brighter-angrier. But his expression isn’t angry right now. He looks confused.

And he’s actually staring at my face and not my breasts.

“Do you think it’s weird that no one really comes over here anymore?” he asks.