Unleashed (The Elliott Brothers #2)

Chapter 13

CHAPTER 13

T he sunlit library at Shady Grove had a calming warmth that did little to ease the shock I felt as I saw my father. He looked so frail and fragile that it took every ounce of my strength to hold back the tears. Michael, who I’d dragged along for support, noticed my distress and gently squeezed my shoulder.

“Mama, Daddy?” I called out softly.

They both looked up, their faces lighting up with recognition. As they tried to rise from their plush, overstuffed brown couches, I hurried over and gently waved them back down.

“Please, stay seated,” I said, my voice quivering slightly. I bent down, wrapping my arms around them in a tender embrace. I was especially cautious with my father, whose once sturdy frame had withered.

Despite their advanced years, my parents still possessed an undeniable grace. My mother’s short white hair framed her face, which still boasted bright green eyes and a remarkable lack of wrinkles. I hoped I might inherit her youthful complexion. My father, tall and thin, had steel gray hair and the same hazel eyes I had. His once strong presence had diminished, making me ache inside.

I handed the bouquet of tea roses to my mother. She took them with a smile and planted a soft kiss on my cheek. “Thank you, sweetie. You know how much I adore tea roses. And who is this young man?”

I almost forgot Michael was beside me. “This is Michael Elliot, my boss. We’re friends. Michael, may I introduce my parents, Charlotte and Samuel Kincaid?”

Michael stepped forward, extending his hand with a polite nod. “Pleasure to meet you both.”

My mother arched an eyebrow, but her expression softened as Michael shook her hand and then my father’s, whose hand was rough and gnarled from years of hard work.

“Pleasure’s all mine,” Michael said warmly.

“Daddy, how’s the arthritis?” I asked, concern threading through my voice.

“A little better since they adjusted my medication,” he replied with a small smile.

“I’m glad to hear that,” I said, relieved.

We settled into the chairs, and the conversation shifted to lighter topics. We talked about my recent vacation and how I was faring at my new job.

“Is your boss treating you well?” my father asked, his eyes twinkling with a mix of curiosity and approval.

“Yes, much better,” I said, glancing at Michael. “I’m learning a lot more than I did at Abbott.”

“I’m pleased to hear that,” my father said with a nod. “It was a shame they didn’t promote you. I’m sure Mr. Elliott appreciates having you on his team.”

“I do, sir,” Michael said, his tone sincere. “I’m glad to have her aboard.”

My father’s eyes glinted with a knowing look. “Take care of your employees, and they’ll take care of you, I always say.”

“I completely agree,” Michael replied, meeting my father’s gaze with a reassuring smile.

We spent over three hours with my parents, sharing lunch in the Shady Grove cafeteria. The food was surprisingly decent, and I appreciated the option they had to prepare their own meals in their small kitchen. After we finished eating, it was clear that both of them were flagging. My father’s eyelids drooped several times, and my mother looked as though she might follow suit any minute.

“We’re going to let you two take a nap,” I said gently.

“We’re fine,” my mother insisted, though her yawn belied her words.

“You’re tired,” I pointed out. “What time did you get up this morning?”

“The usual, five o’clock,” she replied.

“That was almost eleven hours ago,” I said, noting the fatigue etched on their faces.

My mother yawned again, and we all shared a knowing laugh. “I think it’s time for a nap, Samuel,” she said, nudging my father.

“I have to agree,” he admitted, already sinking into the couch.

We walked them back to their small apartment on the second floor. I was relieved to see the elevator; the thought of my father struggling with stairs was too much to bear. Michael took my mother’s arm, offering his bicep for support, while I helped my father.

Their apartment was a cozy haven, decorated in soothing shades of brown and tan. It featured a compact living area that flowed into a small kitchen and a modest bedroom with a private bath. The setup was ideal for their needs, with plenty of activities available within the facility to keep them engaged.

My father stretched out on the nubby, chocolate-colored couch, while my mother settled into a matching recliner. I hugged them both tightly before we left. Michael extended his hand to shake theirs, but by then, they were already fast asleep. We left quietly, closing the door behind us with care.

“That was a nice visit,” I said as we walked down the carpeted hallway. Michael’s hand rested firmly on my upper back, his thumb gently stroking my skin.

“Yes, it was,” he agreed, his voice soft.

He guided me to his car, opening the door for me and assisting me inside before circling around to his own side. Once settled, he leaned across the console, his hand sliding around my neck. He pulled me gently toward him and pressed his lips against mine. The kiss was unexpected and electrifying, sending a rush of warmth through me.

“What was that for?” I asked, breathless.

“Because I’ve wanted to do that all day,” he said, his voice tinged with a mixture of apology and desire. “Please excuse me for being so forward.”

“Can you do it again?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

Michael’s lips curved into a smirk. “I can.”

His eyes locked onto mine as he leaned in again, his hands framing my face. He pressed his lips against mine, holding the kiss just a moment longer this time. I felt him gently lick the seam of my mouth with his tongue. I opened and he slipped the tip of his tongue inside, exploring mine. The kiss deepened, his tongue moving with a languid, sensual rhythm that made my core tighten with longing.

When he finally pulled away, I felt a mix of frustration and desire. My panties were already damp, and I yearned for more. But this was too soon. I pushed him gently away, breaking the kiss.

“Too much?” he asked, his expression a mix of confusion and concern.

“A little,” I admitted, “but I liked it.”

Michael started the car, putting the top up to shield us from the fierce midday sun. As he pulled out of the lot and onto the highway, my phone buzzed in my purse. I fished it out and saw a text from Slade. I hesitated, then slipped my phone back into my bag.

“I won’t consider it rude if you answer that text,” Michael said, glancing at me.

“It’s nothing,” I replied, though a pang of guilt twisted in my stomach. I had given Slade hope, and now I wasn’t sure I could fulfill it after the kiss we just shared.

“Do you want to go to dinner with me tonight?” Michael asked, his voice hopeful.

“I’m not sure,” I said hesitantly.

“You’re not sure? What does that mean?” he pressed.

“I was supposed to have dinner with a friend.”

“A male friend?” Michael inquired, his tone revealing a trace of jealousy.

“Does it matter?” I retorted.

“I guess not. You mentioned you’re not dating anyone,” he said.

“No, I’m not,” I clarified.

“You can say no. We could catch up for Sunday brunch at The Diamond Square if you like. I go there every now and then.”

“Just us?” I asked, my curiosity piqued.

“Yes, unless you’d like to bring Erika. I’m sure my brother Lincoln would find her intriguing.”

“That sounds like a good idea,” I said, considering it. “I’ve been trying to get her to settle down, but it might lead to questions.”

“Would that bother you?” Michael asked.

“You don’t know Erika. She’s relentless. If she senses something, she won’t stop until she’s pried everything out of me. Maybe it’s better if we keep it between us.”

“Does that mean you won’t go with me?” Michael’s voice held a touch of disappointment.

I wanted to go with him, more than he knew. But I needed to get my head together. I had two men who wanted me and I wasn’t sure I wanted to give a commitment to either one.

“No,” I said firmly.

“I wish you would. I like your company.”

“You like more than my company,” I countered.

“Okay, I admit it. I like kissing you, and if I may be so bold, you have a beautiful ass.”

“What about Monday?” I asked, trying to shift the focus.

“What about it?” he replied, puzzled.

“We have to work together. This is moving faster than I anticipated.”

“Then you’re fired,” he joked, though his eyes were serious. “I’ll give you a year’s severance so you can decide if you want to date me or not.”

“You would fire me just to date me?” I asked incredulously.

“I’d rather not, but if you think we shouldn’t mix business with pleasure, then I have no choice.”

“Jerk,” I mumbled under my breath.

“Excuse me?” he asked, his tone playful.

“I didn’t say anything,” I replied quickly.

Michael chuckled and turned on the radio as we hit traffic. The slow crawl gave me a chance to fall asleep, and I woke to the gentle touch of his knuckles brushing my cheek as we neared the city.

“I’m sorry I fell asleep,” I said, rubbing my eyes.

“I forgive you,” Michael said softly. “You had a long day.”

“I’ll never drink that much again,” I promised.

“Please make sure you don’t,” he replied.

“Is that an order?” I asked with a hint of teasing.

“Only if you want it to be,” he said, his gaze intense. “Promise we’ll have brunch tomorrow.”

“I promise.

He pulled up to my building and leaned in for a kiss. I gave him a quick peck on the lips because if I lingered, I wasn’t sure where it would lead.

“Thank you for today,” I said as I slipped out of the car.

“Tomorrow, Morgan, 11 a.m. Don’t drink too much tonight or stay up too late.”

I sighed but turned and walked inside the building.

I struggled to catch my breath as Slade's hands roamed across my body, his touch igniting every nerve. Our dinner had barely ended before we found ourselves on the couch at my place. His erection pressed insistently against my belly as I straddled him, his hands tangled in my hair, gently tugging. Each bite he delivered to my nipples through my t-shirt sent shockwaves of pleasure straight to my core.

“Slade,” I panted, my voice trembling.

“I need to fuck you right now,” he growled, his voice raw with urgency. “A week apart has been too long.”

I moved back, fumbling with the belt of his shorts, my fingers desperate as they clawed at the zipper. My need for him matched his own. When I finally freed him from his shorts and boxers, he helped me slide them off his legs. I got on my knees, my hands wrapping around his cock before I took the head in my mouth.

“Oh fuck!” he howled, his voice strained with pleasure. “That feels so good.”

“Better than my pussy?” I teased, my voice muffled around him.

“Nothing is better,” he gasped. “But I don’t want your mouth right now. Come back up here.”

I continued to suck him until he gently pushed me away and helped me back up. Slade pulled down my white terry shorts and panties, waiting for me to step out of them before guiding me back onto his lap. He latched onto my mouth with a fervent kiss as he pressed his tip against my swollen clit, sliding his cock along me. The minimal stimulation was enough to make me explode in seconds.

I tore my mouth from his, my head thrown back in a moan of his name as the waves of pleasure crashed over me. I shook my head, urging him to stop as his movements became too intense, my clit hypersensitive.

“Sit on me,” he demanded, his voice laced with desire.

I glanced at him, his eyes glazed and fervent. “You can’t move yet; it’ll hurt.”

“I just want to be inside you,” he said, his voice filled with a longing that softened his gaze. “We can wait.”

His reassurance settled me. I raised up on my haunches, positioning him at my soaked entrance, and slowly sank down until I was seated on his lap. He stretched me, his fullness making me reflexively clench around him.

“Shit, Morgan, don’t do that,” he groaned.

I leaned into him, tucking my head against his neck, inhaling his citrusy cologne. The familiar scent grounded me, and I realized how much I had missed him. Minutes later, we began to rock together. Slade reached between us, his thumb pressing against my clit, rubbing gently.

“I love you,” he whispered, his voice filled with emotion.

The words caught in my throat. I wasn’t ready to reciprocate, and I wasn’t sure I ever would be. I knew I was giving him hope by agreeing to meet, but I had never promised him anything. His hands cupped my ass, and his upward thrusts distracted me from my swirling thoughts.

My insides were ablaze, teetering on the edge of my second orgasm. Two more circles of his finger, and I shattered like glass. Slade followed seconds later, his grunts muffled as he held my hips and filled me with his warmth.

Afterward, I slumped against his chest, feeling his heartbeat beneath my cheek. He held me close, his arms wrapping around me with a tenderness that made me ache inside.

“That was so good. I missed you,” he murmured, his voice soft and sincere.

“I missed you too, Slade,” I admitted, my voice barely a whisper.

“Can I stay over tonight?” he asked, his tone hopeful. “I could make you breakfast.”

A pang of guilt struck me. I couldn’t tell him about brunch with Michael without hurting his feelings, so I opted for a lie. “I’m having brunch with Erika.”

“Oh.” His disappointment was palpable. “Can I still stay over?”

“If you like,” I said, though my heart wasn’t in it.

“Morgan, you can say no. I just like feeling you in my arms,” he said softly.

“You have to leave early,” I said, my voice wavering.

He grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “I can do that.”

“Want to get ready for bed?” I asked, trying to shift the focus.

“I think we should clean up first,” he suggested, his tone practical but still laced with lingering desire.

I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, unable to shake the guilt gnawing at me as Slade slept soundly beside me. His warm breath against my neck was a stark contrast to the turmoil inside me. I was torn between my lingering feelings for Slade and the budding connection with Michael. As the minutes ticked by, I grew increasingly restless, my thoughts racing.

When the clock approached 9 a.m., my frustration bubbled to the surface. Winston was set to arrive by eleven, and I still hadn’t decided what to wear. I sighed heavily and turned to Slade, who was still draped over me, his hips occasionally nudging my back as he shifted in his sleep.

“You have to go,” I said softly, trying not to disturb him too much.

Slade stirred, his groggy voice filled with reluctance. “Are you sure?” His hand pressed against my back, his arousal unmistakable.

“Positive,” I replied firmly, though my heart felt heavy.

He grumbled softly, “Maybe you could sleep over at my place tonight.”

“I can’t,” I said, rolling away from him to sit up. “I have work tomorrow and so do you.”

“Morgan, did I do something wrong?” he asked, sitting up and pulling away from me, his face etched with concern.

“No,” I said quickly. “I just need to be sharp for work.”

He slid out of bed, grabbing his shorts and pulling them on with a frustrated huff. “I just feel a distance from you that wasn’t there last weekend.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, my voice tinged with regret. “I don’t want to hurt you. You know I have a lot going on.”

“So, what does that mean?” he pressed, his tone a mix of confusion and hurt.

“It means I might not be available all the time,” I explained, trying to be gentle.

“I’m not asking for all the time,” he said, his voice dropping. “I’m asking for a little. I want to cultivate a relationship with you.” He ran his hands through his disheveled hair in frustration.

“I know, but I can’t give you much right now,” I said, trying to soothe him. “Maybe we can have dinner or drinks during the week.”

“That’s all I get?” he asked, his voice cracking slightly. “One night this week?”

“What do you want from me, Slade?” I shot back, unable to hide my frustration.

“I guess I’m asking for too much,” he said bitterly. “Excuse me.”

He grabbed his shirt from the chair and yanked it over his head, his movements harsh and quick. I stayed silent, feeling a pang of guilt as I heard the door to my apartment slam behind him. I sank back onto the bed, a sigh of relief escaping me despite the lingering heaviness in my chest. This was exactly what I wanted to avoid.

As I stepped into the shower, the hot water cascading over me, my thoughts churned. Why was it so hard to balance two relationships? Men did it all the time, so why couldn’t I? The double standards that plagued my life—where a man juggling multiple women was seen as a stud, but a woman in the same position was labeled a slut—seemed increasingly absurd.

At twenty-seven, I realized it was time to shake things up. I had spent so long controlling every aspect of my life, clinging to my plans and routines. Erika was right; I needed to embrace life’s unpredictability. I had time to save for retirement, but right now, I needed to live a little.

I couldn’t sleep while Slade held me and slumbered. Guilt ate away at me the longer I wondered how long I could handle the situation I was in.

On one hand, I wanted to see where this thing with Michael went, but on the other, my crush on Slade couldn’t be denied. I was grumpy when 9 am nearly rolled around due to fitful rest. Winston would be downstairs by 11 and I still had to decide what to wear.

Winston stood by the curb as I exited my building, his expression as impassive as ever. I had expected Michael to be in the car, but he was notably absent.

“Where’s Michael?” I asked, sliding into the cool embrace of the car’s interior.

“Mr. Elliott had a last-minute phone call. He’ll meet you there,” Winston replied, his tone leaving no room for further inquiries.

I nodded, settling into the plush seat and pulling out my phone. The drive felt unusually long as I scrolled through the news, trying to distract myself from the flutter of anticipation and nerves.

When Winston pulled up to The Diamond Square, a doorman dressed in a black uniform and white gloves opened the car door for me. The grandeur of the restaurant took my breath away—the red carpet, the gold-framed doors, the opulence reminiscent of The Waldorf.

Inside, I spotted Michael immediately. He was dressed impeccably in navy slacks, a tan sports jacket, a crisp white shirt, and a blue tie. His eyes lit up when he saw me, and he moved toward me with an easy confidence.

“I thought I would be seated alone until you got here,” he said, leaning in to place a soft kiss on my cheek.

I couldn’t help but smile as I looked down at my gray sheath dress, which hugged my curves just right. “I wasn’t sure what to wear.”

“You did perfect,” Michael said, his eyes lingering appreciatively on the dress. “Our reservation is for eleven.”

The Diamond Square’s elegance was undeniable. Crystal chandeliers cast a warm glow over the room, and the clink of fine china and murmured conversations filled the air. Michael took my hand, guiding me through the bustling dining area to a quieter corner.

A waiter greeted us and led us to our table, where a lavish champagne brunch awaited. The serving stations were a feast for the eyes—an array of delectable dishes crowding the tables.

Once we were seated, Michael ordered mimosas with a casual wave of his hand, then pulled out my chair with a charming smile. As he settled into his own seat, he cast a curious glance my way.

“How was your dinner last night?” he asked, his tone light yet probing.

“It was fine,” I replied, picking up my mimosa and taking a sip to steady my nerves.

Michael studied me for a moment, his gaze thoughtful. “I was tempted to call, but I didn’t want to disturb you.”

“What do you think I was doing that would disturb me?” I asked, a playful edge in my voice.

Michael’s smile widened, but he lowered his voice. “I’m not implying you were having sex.”

“You would be correct if you were,” I said, my cheeks warming slightly. “But you could’ve called.”

I wouldn’t admit I had sex with another man even if he asked me directly. I was already feeling guilty but men played the field all the time. Why couldn’t I?

“I didn’t want to seem too eager. You’re getting under my skin,” Michael confessed, leaning closer.

“Is that a bad thing?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

“No, I wouldn’t say that,” he said, his eyes twinkling. “But I have to ask—are you enjoying this?”

“Enjoying what?” I echoed, puzzled.

“Me squirming and begging,” he said, his voice dropping to a whisper.

I laughed softly. “I hardly think what you’re doing is begging.”

Michael’s expression grew serious. “I think you require a good fucking for this,” he said, his words cutting through me like a jolt.

My pulse quickened, and I struggled to maintain composure. “We’re not ready for that.”

“I’m ready,” Michael said, leaning back. “But I’m not surprised you aren’t. You seem to need an emotional connection first, and you don’t have it yet.”

“I’ll admit I like emotional connection,” I said, my voice faltering slightly, “but I don’t need it to have sex.”

“I believe you do,” Michael said confidently. “And I’m a good judge of people.”

As our drinks arrived, I took several sips of my mimosa, hoping it would ease the growing tension between us.

“Would you like to get something to eat? The line has subsided.”

“Yes, I’m hungry,” I said, though my appetite had waned. Michael’s provocative comment had made me more restless than ravenous. I needed a distraction, so I filled my plate with a modest selection—broccoli quiche, sliced melon, and a plain bagel with vegetable cream cheese.

Michael, in contrast, piled his plate with ham from the carving station, Eggs Benedict, and two raisin scones with apple butter. He returned to the table and helped me into my chair with a gentle touch. But as I sat, the heat of our earlier conversation returned, making it difficult to focus on my food.

“Not hungry? Did you overindulge last night?” Michael asked, noticing my disinterest.

“Not at all,” I replied. “Your talk of sex made me lose my appetite.”

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” Michael probed.

“It’s good,” I said, forcing a smile. “But I’m interested in something other than food.”

His talk of sex dampened my panties. I was never like this before, and I think having two men who desired me had fired me up. I could go months without sex but now I felt like a bitch in heat, powerful to have this type of control.

Michael’s eyes gleamed with mischief. “Like what?”

I sighed, picking at my bagel. “I’d rather not discuss it. Can we change the subject?”

Michael raised an eyebrow. “What would you like to talk about?”

“Tomorrow,” I said, hoping to shift the conversation.

“It will be a usual day in the office,” Michael replied, his demeanor calm.

“Will it?” I challenged. “Especially knowing what I know now?”

Michael’s gaze softened. “I feel the same way for you as I did when you first started. Nothing has changed.”

“Except that I know,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

“All I ask is that you keep it to yourself,” Michael said, his tone serious.

“Why don’t you have normal offices?” I asked, trying to steer the conversation away.

Michael paused, biting into one of his scones before answering. “Normal in what way?”

“Walls and doors—privacy,” I explained.

“I prefer an open workplace,” Michael said, shrugging. “It fosters better involvement from the staff.”

“Do you have no desire for privacy?” I pressed.

Michael’s smirk returned. “Do you? What are you expecting to happen in the office?”

“Nothing,” I mumbled, looking down at my plate as I speared a piece of cantaloupe with my fork.

Michael’s eyes twinkled with amusement. “Were you anticipating office sex? Did you want me to seduce you during office hours?”

My face flushed again, but I met his gaze with a mixture of challenge and curiosity. “I guess I’ll have to wait and see.”

Michael chuckled, clearly enjoying the banter. “Well, let’s just focus on today’s brunch and see where the day takes us.”

We finished our meal without and further talk of sex. Even with the alcohol I was wound up like a top. By the time Michael dropped me off at my apartment, I was in desperate need of some relief and my only outlets were Slade or getting myself off. I chose to do it myself since my relationship with Slade was a bit tense at the moment.