Too Late

He presses his mouth to mine and kisses me hard. He shoves his tongue deep into my throat like he's trying to claim every inch of me from the inside out. There's nothing tender about it, and when he tears his mouth from mine, he's gasping for breath. He lifts up onto his knees and pulls his shirt over his head. "Tell me again," he says, reaching to me and pulling both my shirt and bra over my head. "Tell me you love me, Sloan. That you'll never leave me."

"I love you. I'll never leave you," I whisper, praying the latter will soon be a lie.

He brings his mouth back to mine and runs his hands down my stomach until he reaches my pants. He's kissing me with such intensity, it's hard to catch a breath. He tries to pull my pants down, but he can't seem to break away from my mouth long enough to do it. I lift my hips and remove my clothes, just like the whore I've become for him.

Because is this not the definition of a whore? Someone who compromises his or her self-respect for personal gain? Even if my personal gain is something selfless and has nothing to do with me and everything to do with my brother, it doesn't change the fact that I'm having sex with him in exchange for something. Which...by definition...makes me a whore.

His whore.

And from the possessive look in his eyes, that's all he'll ever allow me to be.

CARTER-14

Chapter Fourteen

Carter

There are few things worse than my sense of timing. As soon as I open the back door to walk inside the house, my ears are met with the final sound of Asa's grunts coming from upstairs. I pause in the kitchen, not even sure why I'm listening to what he's doing to her. Just the thought of it makes my stomach turn, especially after knowing what he just did to Jess a matter of two hours ago.

When I hear footsteps upstairs and the bathroom door shut, I snap out of my trance and walk to the refrigerator. There's a magnetic dry-erase board, covered in phone numbers, stuck to the front of the fridge. I grab one of the markers and press it to the board and write. Footsteps descend the stairs and I snap the marker back into place, then turn around just in time to see Asa round the corner.

"Hey," he says. He's barefoot and the only things he's wearing are his unbuttoned blue jeans. His hair is in disarray and he has a smug grin on his face.

"What's up?" I lean against the counter and watch him as he walks to the cabinet and grabs a bag of potato chips. He opens it and leans against the counter across from me.

"How'd it go last night?" he asks. "I haven't even had a chance to ask you."

"Good," I say. "But I was curious. What if we could get to his supplier directly? There really isn't a need for a middleman anymore, if the only reason you were going through him was for translation."

Asa pops another chip into his mouth and licks his fingers. "Why do you think I brought you in?" He sets the bag of chips down and turns to the sink, running his hands under the water. "My hands fucking taste like pussy," he says, scrubbing them with soap.

This is one of the few moments in my career I wish I would have chosen something a little lamer. Something a little less emotionally draining. I should have been a poetry teacher.

"How long have you been dating that girl?" I ask. Part of what I'm here for is to pry, but the only questions I seem to want to know the answers to are questions related to Sloan.

He dries his hands on a towel and grabs the bag of chips, then takes a seat at the bar. I stay where I am.

"A while. Two years maybe?" He shoves a handful of chips into his mouth and wipes his palm down the leg of his jeans.

"Doesn't seem like she approves of what you do," I say, treading lightly. "You think she'd ever out you?"

"Hell no," he quickly replies. "I'm all she has. She's got no choice but to accept it."

I nod and grip the edge of the counter behind me. I don't trust a word that comes out of his mouth, so I'm really hoping the fact that he's all she has is just another one of his lies.

"Just making sure," I say. "It's hard for me to trust people, if you know what I mean."

Asa narrows his eyes and leans forward. "Don't ever trust anyone, Carter. Especially the whores."

"I thought you said Sloan wasn't a whore," I challenge.

He keeps his eyes locked with mine—unmoving and angry. For a moment, I'm worried he might do to me what he did to Jon earlier. Instead, he brings his hand to his jaw and pops his neck, then leans back in his seat again. The flash of anger in his eyes dissipates with the sound of Sloan's footsteps descending the stairs. She walks into the kitchen and comes to a pause when she sees both of us.

Asa takes his eyes off me and looks at Sloan. He laughs and stands up, scooping her against him. "People have to earn my trust," he says, looking over her shoulder at me. "Sloan earned hers."She puts her hands against his chest and pushes against him, but he doesn't release her. He sits back down and pulls her against him so that she's standing between his legs with her back to his chest, facing me. He wraps his arms around her stomach and rests his chin on her shoulder, making eye contact with me again.