Chapter 15

Slater is silent the whole drive back to my house, while I stare out the window and fiddle with the hem of Lizzy’s shirt. I’m distracted, but I can’t wait to get the whole outfit off.

Thank god Lizzy brought me a change of clothes after all. I don’t think I could have handled what happened tonight if it had been in my dress. It may not have been perfect, what happened earlier in the dress, but it’s better than what happened after in the skirt and shirt.

“Are you okay?” I eventually ask Slater as he pulls up to the curb outside.

He didn’t even ask for directions, which is weird because I don’t remember him ever coming to our new house. When my mom and his dad split, we had to leave their fancy house, and Slater stopped hanging out with me.

The house is in complete darkness, and somehow looks less welcoming than ever.

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

I startle at the sound of Slater’s voice.

“Huh?” What did I say?

“I’m the one who should be asking if you’re okay. Not the other way round.”

“But you look so…mad.”

It’s true. He’s barely able to suppress the rage in his tone, and I swear if his knuckles weren’t so tight on the wheel, his hands would still be shaking. Yet somehow, he’s trying to soften his expression…for me? Why?

“I’m not mad.”

“Oh.”

“I’m fucking raging. I want to kill Jessy for attempting to hurt you. But first I want to knock every single one of his teeth out with my fists and ram them so far up his ass, one by one, that they chatter in his skull once more.”

Oh, wow. “Umm, I don’t even know what to say to that.”

“You look like you’re about to fall apart. If you didn’t drink any of stupid Jessy the cocksucker’s beer, why do you look so traumatized?”

I flinch over his use of the word cocksucker. It hits too close to home. Like he knows. Like he sees me. Because that’s what I am, isn’t it? A cocksucker. Not by choice, admittedly, but a girl who got on her knees and sucked a cock nevertheless.

Even if it was at gunpoint.

Do I think it was loaded? In the moment, absolutely. Now, I’m not sure. I don’t know anything right now.

“How do you know where I live?” I blurt out, wanting to think about anything other than what happened tonight.

“I know everything about you, Cora.” I shiver. “Like, I know today’s your birthday, and it hasn’t been the best. I’m sorry for that. I wish I could make it better for you.”

“Don’t.”

“Don’t? Don’t what?”

“Don’t start trying to be nice to me after being such a shit for years. Not without an explanation, Slater. If this is you trying to make amends, you’re getting nowhere without some confessions.”

“You want me to confess my sins?” Slater murmurs darkly. It sends a shiver down my spine in an entirely different way than I’ve experienced thus far tonight.

Damn, he really is handsome.

“You agree that the way you’ve treated me is sinful then?”

“Oh, Cora, you don’t know the first thing about my sins. But you will. You’ll learn. Being a sinner is so much better than being a saint. You’ll come to the dark side eventually.”

“What does that mean?” I frown.

“You’ll find out soon enough.”

“Right, more cryptic bullshit. Well, if that’s the best I’m going to get out of you tonight, then I’ll say goodbye.”

“Stop.”

Against my better judgment, my body obeys his command, my hand freezing on the door handle.

“What?” I snap.

“Firstly, don’t get snappy with me. You won’t like the outcome,” he mutters darkly, sending shivers down my spine again. “Secondly, you didn’t even have the good manners to thank me for the ride, let alone saving you from that vile piece of shi?—”

“Thank you!” I blurt out quickly, but he shoots me a withering glare that makes me clamp my jaw shut.

“And thirdly, your house is in darkness.”

“So?”

“So, you’re not going in there alone!” he snaps right back at me.

“My mom’s in bed. She has work early in the morning.”

“Don’t lie to me, Cora. I won’t tolerate it.”

“What?”

“That’s a lie. Your mom isn’t in bed; she’s at work right now. You were supposed to stay at Lizzy’s tonight, and now you’re here. Alone. And I don’t think it’s safe.”

I blink. Open my mouth. Close it. Blink again.

Shit. He’s right. How the hell did I forget that?

Oh, yeah, shock at almost being raped at gunpoint.

I shake my head. I don’t want to think about that.

“How do you even know all that?”

“It doesn’t matter. Just don’t lie to me.”

“Oh, but it’s okay for you to lie to me, or speak in riddles and half-truths?!” I cry, taking my fears and frustrations of the night out on him.

“I won’t fight you on this, Cora. I’m not leaving you here alone. Do you want me to take you to Lizzy’s? I’m sure she’s still at the party with Andrew, but her mother will be home.”

“No. I don’t want her asking questions, and I won’t cut Lizzy’s night short. She’ll probably go home with Andrew anyway.”

“There’s only one…well, two other options then.”

“Oh?”

“I come in with you.”

“Absolutely not!”

He continues like I never even spoke. “Or you come to my house.”

“No. No…there’s no chance,” I stutter, completely gobsmacked by his suggestions.

He ignores me again, reaching for his own handle and exiting the vehicle. He strides toward my house like he owns it, and I’m left scrambling to follow him.

“I don’t have my key,” I protest, but Slater tilts the chipped plant pot on the doorstep and removes the spare key from under it. I gasp. “How did you know that was there?”

He doesn’t say anything as he unlocks the door and gestures for me to enter ahead of him. I hesitate but do as he indicates, flicking on the hallway light so as not to be alone in the dark with yet another stranger tonight.

Because that is what Slater is. A familiar stranger. A boy turned man that I used to know.

“I don’t think this is such a good idea,” I tell him as he closes the door and locks it. He moves past me into the lounge and draws the curtains.

Continuing to ignore me, he moves through our small downstairs, checking that the windows and doors are locked, and ensuring all the drapes and blinds are shut.

“What are you doing?” I demand. Why is he behaving so strangely?

He pays no attention to me and doesn’t stop.

It makes the space feel even smaller, or maybe that’s just Slater’s huge presence.

When he returns to the lounge and settles on the couch, I can’t bite my tongue anymore.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I demand as he unfastens his black boots. I never noticed those earlier, but they went with his suit nicely. His suit pants, which are now straining on his muscular thighs and which have pulled tight across his?—

“My eyes are up here, Cora. Dirty girl.” He laughs and shakes his head like he can’t quite believe he caught me ogling him, and I blush.

“Answer my question. We don’t need eye contact for that.”

Slater runs both his palms down the front of his shirt and then his thighs, and I swear there’s something very, very wrong with me, because my mouth waters, and it takes an enormous effort not to lick my lips.

His legs are parted enough that I could kneel between them and?—

Fuck! What is wrong with me? He’s my fucking stepbrother! And a colossal dick to boot.

“I need to sleep,” I blurt out, face on fire.

“Me too. Which is why I’m taking my boots off.” He stands and unzips his slacks, and I slam my eyes shut. Slater chuckles. It’s a deliciously dark sound, and it makes my skin tingle. “Fuck, this couch is small,” he grumbles.

I risk peeking at him through one eye, and the sight makes both eyes fly open as I dissolve into fits of giggles. Maybe the sight of big bad Slater Bennet squished on my sofa under my mom’s favorite fluffy pink blanket isn’t that hilarious, but given the night’s events, I’m entitled to be slightly hysterical.

“Slater, what are you doing?” I eventually manage to gasp out, wiping tears from my eyes.

“I’m staying the night—No.” He cuts off my frantic head shaking with a firm shake of his own. “I’m not going anywhere. You must be shaken up after what happened, and either you’re taking it remarkably well, or you’re in shock. Either way, I won’t leave you alone. So I either sleep here, on the couch, or in your bed. What’s it going to be?”

Fuck, that makes my core clench. I want him in my bed. How fucked up is that?

I use humor to try to deflect what I’m really thinking and feeling and to stop myself from blurting out something stupid. “Ha! I’d like to see you try. I have a shitty little single.”

“Try me, Cora.” His stare is no-nonsense, and I gulp. He seems to mean it too. But why would he?

“The couch is fine,” I quickly backtrack. “You don’t have to—” The look he shoots at me could turn milk sour, so I hastily add, “but thank you. I do feel safer with you here.”

He nods his head at me. “Goodnight, Cora. Turn the light off on your way out.”

What choice do I have but to obey? It suddenly dawns on me that tonight, even in the safety of my own home, I’m a puppet to the demands of men.