Unleashed (The Elliott Brothers #2)

Chapter 18

CHAPTER 18

“ O h God, you fuck me so good,” I moaned, breathless.

Slade had woken me up with his hand already between my legs, the early dawn light barely filtering through the curtains. My eyes fluttered open as his fingers expertly teased my clit, coaxing pleasure from me with every precise movement. Before I knew it, he had shifted behind me, spooning me as he thrust into me from behind, his hips slamming into my ass with each powerful stroke. He lifted my leg, angling himself deeper inside me, pulling groans from my lips.

“You’re always so wet,” he rasped, voice thick with lust.

“You make me that way,” I panted, the words spilling out in gasps.

His free arm snaked under my head, cradling me. With a firm hand, he gently turned my chin, capturing my mouth in a heated, possessive kiss. His tongue invaded mine, deep and hungry, sending shockwaves down my body. I moaned into him, my hand sliding up to pinch my nipples, trying to intensify the electric burn building inside me.

Draping my leg over his, Slade splayed his hand across my belly, his fingers pressing into my skin as he pounded into me with renewed force. Every thrust brought me closer, and I was teetering on the edge, just waiting for that final push.

His fingers found my swollen nub again, circling with delicious pressure, and that was all it took.

“I’m coming!” I cried, body convulsing as waves of pleasure crashed through me. My inner walls clenched tightly around his cock, milking him with every pulse of my orgasm.

“That’s it, baby,” he groaned, his voice ragged as he pumped a few more times before I felt the hot rush of his release. He stayed buried inside me, thrusting lazily as his own climax slowed, until finally, he stilled.

He pulled me close, his chest pressed against my back, his cock still nestled deep inside me. We lay there, wrapped up in each other, both of us breathing heavily in the aftermath.

“I hope you didn’t plan on getting any sun this weekend,” he murmured against my ear, voice low and teasing.

“Why?” I asked, half-laughing, still coming down from the high.

“Because I think I want to keep you in the bedroom. I can’t get enough of you.”

“Be that as it may, you’ll have to give me at least an hour or two of daylight,” I teased back, biting my lip.

“We’ll see,” he smirked. “Maybe I’ll let you out at night for walks in the moonlight.”

“That won’t help my tan,” I quipped.

“But you’ll be thoroughly satisfied,” he countered, his tone filled with promise.

I chuckled softly, shaking my head. “I have no doubt.”

He planted a lingering kiss on my cheek, his lips warm and soft against my skin, before he slowly pulled back, slipping out of me.

“Thank you for the good morning wake-up,” I whispered, feeling the delicious ache in my body.

“I didn’t get to say good night properly,” he said with a grin. “So, I figured I’d start the day off right.”

I yawned, feeling exhaustion return. “I could use another hour of sleep.”

He glanced at the clock. “It’s barely six. Why don’t you go back to sleep?”

“I like that idea,” I mumbled, already sinking into my pillow. Slade turned onto his back beside me, and I snuggled closer, letting the warmth of his presence lull me back into a peaceful doze.

The next time we woke up, the sun was blazing through the window and my clock read 8:42 am.

“Fuck!” I screamed as I jumped out of bed.

“What’s the matter?”

“I forgot to set my alarm! I have eighteen minutes to get showered, dressed, and into the office. There’s a good chance I’ll be late.”

“You shouldn’t even have to go in today.”

“But I do, and since my father isn’t the boss, I need to hurry.”

I ran into the bathroom, leaving Slade in bed. I took a sprint of a shower, maybe three minutes at most, dried myself in record time, and combed my hair before putting it in a ponytail. I hastily chose a dark blue striped dress and put on a baby blue bra and panty set. I could do my makeup in the cab if I wanted to get in even remotely close to 9 am.

“Slade, can you take my suitcase and lock up when you leave?”

“Of course.”

I left him as he pulled on the t-shirt I tore off when he made love to me only two hours before. Downstairs, I was lucky. A cab was coming by and had just switched on its in-service sign. I waved it down, jumped in, and started to apply my makeup.

“Miss? Where to?”

“Sorry.” I gave him the address and continued to fix my face. When we pulled up, it was ten minutes after nine—and despite being late, it was a record drive as far as I was concerned.

“Miss Kincaid, I’d like to see you in the conference room,” Michael's voice cut through the low hum of the office.

I glanced up from my desk, catching Stanley and Brian grinning like wolves. They relished in my misery, eager to see me squirm under Michael’s scrutiny. It didn’t help that I had been late—9:15 a.m., not a second earlier—and I knew he had seen me stroll in. But with everything simmering between us lately, I had no idea what he might say.

“Yes, sir,” I replied, forcing a steady tone.

Smoothing my dress, I stood and hurried toward the conference room, my heels clicking sharply against the floor. Just as I reached the door, Michael entered behind me, his presence as commanding as ever. The faint scent of citrus cologne trailed in his wake. His navy suit fit him perfectly, crisp and professional, and not a single hair on his head was out of place. I followed him in, nerves bubbling beneath the surface.

Once we were inside, he hit the button to turn the glass opaque and flicked the lock with an unnerving finality. He took his seat at the head of the long, polished mahogany table, the black leather chair squeaking slightly as he leaned back, fingers drumming against the wood. I stood there for a moment, unsure of whether to sit or remain standing.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” I said, breaking the silence, my voice softer than I intended. “I forgot to set my alarm.”

His eyes, dark and unreadable, flicked up to meet mine. “Forgot to set it, or were you... entertaining someone?”

My stomach twisted. “Seriously? That’s how you want to start this conversation?”

He arched a brow. “How should I start it, then?”

“By apologizing, you arrogant ass,” I snapped, crossing my arms. “That little stunt you pulled on Monday night? Pretty lame.”

“Lame how?” His voice was cold, challenging.

“You turned into a bag of ice, Michael. You completely shut down.”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “I’m not used to being rejected. Excuse me if I reacted... improperly.”

“It hurt,” I admitted, my voice dropping. “You hurt me.”

“Touché, Miss Kincaid,” he said, his tone almost mocking. “You slashed me with a rapier sword.”

I scoffed. “I slashed you? I never promised you anything. You’re asking for something I can’t give you yet.”

His gaze hardened. “Why? I want to know.”

I hesitated, feeling the tension thick between us. “I just... can’t.”

In an instant, he was on his feet, striding toward me. He grabbed my wrist, his grip firm but not painful. “Is this a game to you?” he demanded, his voice low and dangerous. “You use your gorgeous face and that soft voice to reel men in, only to break their hearts?”

I pulled my arm free, my heart racing. “I’ve done nothing of the sort. You wanted this.”

His jaw clenched as he sank back down into the chair, eyes never leaving mine. “And you didn’t? What, did I force you? Is that what you’re saying?”

“No,” I said, shaking my head. “You didn’t force me. That would be sexual harassment.”

“Yes, it would.” His voice softened, though the tension remained. “We’ve had this discussion.”

“I’m not calling it that, you are,” I shot back.

His eyes narrowed. “No, you’re making it sound like I pushed you into bed. That makes me sound like a piece of shit. I can’t keep this casual anymore, and I’m too far gone to pretend otherwise.”

I stumbled back, finding the chair behind me and collapsing into it. “What do you mean, too far gone?”

Michael exhaled slowly, running a hand through his perfectly styled hair. “I’ve been in denial. I’ve tried to push how I feel deep down, but it’s no use. I can’t stop thinking about you.”

I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly dry. “Just your head?”

“No,” he said, voice rough. “My heart. That one red rose I sent... that was me trying to show you.”

“Jesus, Michael,” I whispered, shaking my head. “How can you lay all this on me?”

“It wasn’t a secret.” His eyes softened, pleading now. “The question is, how could I not? Whatever commitment issues you have, you need to get over them. Because I won’t let you go.”

“I’m not yours to let go,” I muttered, rubbing my temples.

His gaze darkened. “Who was he?”

“Huh?”

“The man,” he bit out, jaw tightening. “Your guest last night. Is that why you don’t want me?”

“Oh, Michael,” I sighed, leaning back. “I wish it were that simple. He’s just a friend.”

“I smelled his cologne on you yesterday.” His voice was taut with jealousy. “It filled me with rage. I wanted to go upstairs and rip him apart.”

“He’s only a friend,” I repeated, more firmly this time.

His expression shifted. “Then come away with me this weekend. I’ll take you to my place in Maine.”

I shook my head. “I have plans for the 4th. You should’ve asked sooner.”

“I didn’t know how you felt,” he said quietly, regret in his tone. “I was... wounded.”

“You’re not a deer caught in a trap, Michael. Stop being so melodramatic.”

“My heart is wounded,” he shot back, his stare so sad, so vulnerable. It made my own heart twist with guilt.

I didn’t know what to say and I was wracked with guilt. I caused this and now I was in deep, not wanting to let either man go.

“Maybe we can talk when I get back,” I offered weakly.

He scoffed, pushing out of his chair. “You expect me to let this fester for three days?”

“You have no choice,” I said, standing up, though my legs felt weak. “I have plans, and they don’t include you. Next time, talk to me instead of shutting me out.”

I turned, grabbing the door handle and flicking the lock open.

“Do I have a chance?” His voice stopped me in my tracks.

I froze. “A chance for what?”

“Is your heart claimed?” he asked, his voice softer now, tinged with something raw.

I closed my eyes, exhaling slowly. “No. No one has claimed my heart yet.”

I heard the soft creak of the chair as he rose, felt his presence as he moved closer. He pressed his body against mine, his hand sliding into my hair, grabbing my ponytail with gentle insistence. He pulled my head back slightly, his breath warm on my neck. His lips brushed the sensitive skin there, sending shivers down my spine. His other hand rested on my hip, then slowly slid up, grazing my stomach before cupping my breast.

“Michael,” I whispered, heat flooding my body despite myself.

“Come away with me,” he murmured against my skin. “Next weekend. Promise me.”

His hand inched lower, reaching for the hem of my dress. I reached down, gently stopping him.

“Not here,” I breathed.

He sighed against my ear, frustrated but not defeated. “Then let me take you home. Right now.”

“I can’t,” I replied, swallowing hard. “I have work to do.”

“You can get out of it,” he teased, his lips brushing my earlobe. “I know the boss.”

“Michael, stop,” I said, though my voice wavered. “Let me finish the day, and we’ll talk next weekend.”

His hand stilled, his breath hot on my skin. “Nothing I do makes you happy right now, does it?” He nipped at my earlobe, sending a surge of desire straight to my core.

I fought back a moan, biting my lip. “That’s not true,” I whispered, barely able to keep my composure.

My grip on his hand loosened, allowing his fingers to inch up my dress. His breath was warm against my neck as he whispered, low and commanding, “Lock the door, Morgan.”

In a haze of desire, I pressed my thumb to the lock, the soft click echoing in the silence of the room. As if that small act of surrender gave him permission, his hand slid beneath my dress, finding the edge of my panties. His touch was electric, and I was already wet—his mere presence had that effect on me. I hated it. His fucking, bloody presence.

He rubbed my clit with agonizing tenderness while his lips brushed the back of my neck. “I love you,” he murmured, his voice rough, full of need. His words sent a shiver through me, the kind that made my heart twist painfully in my chest. I had created this mess. This impossible situation. And somehow, I knew I had to end it.

But not now. Not yet.

“I love you too,” the confession slipped from my lips before I could stop it, like a secret set free against my will.

His fingers stilled against me, lips frozen against my skin. I saw his reflection in the glass—his wide eyes, shock written across his face.

“Say it again,” he demanded, his voice tight. “Louder. I want to hear it.”

Tears threatened to spill as I turned my head slightly, enough to glance at him over my shoulder. “Oh God, Michael... I love you.”

In one swift motion, he pulled his hand from my panties and spun me to face him, his hands cupping my cheeks. I could smell my scent on his fingers, and somehow, it only fueled the heat burning low in my belly.

“Say it again,” he growled, his gaze fierce, locking onto mine. “I need to see your face when you say it.”

Our eyes locked, and this time, I didn’t waver. “I love you,” I whispered, my voice trembling.

He crushed his lips to mine in a kiss that started tender but quickly grew insistent. His tongue teased the seam of my mouth before plunging inside, exploring, claiming me. I clutched the fabric of his jacket, my nails digging into his shoulders as I ground my hips against him. His erection pressed against my stomach, and the thought of what he could do to me right now sent a delicious shudder through my body.

“Let me fuck you,” he whispered against my lips, his breath hot. “Before you leave. Give me something.”

My pulse raced, and without thinking, I gasped, “Yes.”

His brow furrowed. “What?”

“Do it,” I repeated, my voice steadier now. “Bend me over the table and take me.”

The moment the words left my mouth, he acted. His hand pressed firmly on my back, bending me over the polished surface of the conference table. I could hear his zipper, the rustle of fabric as he shifted, followed by the telltale sound of a condom being unwrapped. I tensed, anticipating him. Wanting him.

Michael tugged my panties down and teased me first, running his cock through my wetness. I bit my lip to stifle the moan building in my throat, my body practically vibrating with need. Then, without warning, he thrust into me. I couldn’t hold back the cry that escaped.

“Shh,” he whispered harshly, his voice thick with lust. “Do you want the whole office to hear?”

“I can’t help it,” I gasped, pushing back against him.

“Quiet.” His hands gripped my hips, and he started to move—hard, fast, relentless.

The fabric of his slacks brushed against my skin with each thrust, a constant reminder of our surroundings, of where we were and how dangerous this was. But I didn’t care. Not in this moment.

“Morgan,” he groaned, his voice strained. “You’ve entangled me. I can’t escape you.”

“I don’t want you to escape,” I breathed, barely coherent.

“I won’t stop until you come,” he promised, his breath ragged. “It will always be you first.”

I was already close, teetering on the edge. My entire body was tense, waiting for release. He thickened inside me, and I knew he was right there with me, waiting, needing me to fall first.

With a strangled cry, I came, my orgasm washing over me like a tidal wave. My body convulsed as pleasure coursed through me, gripping him tight. Michael followed, his groan low and guttural as he spilled into the condom, his movements slowing until they stopped completely.

He collapsed onto me, his chest pressing against my back. “Keep this moment with you,” he whispered, his voice soft now, almost vulnerable. “This was love, not just sex.”

I closed my eyes, fighting the emotions swelling inside me. “I know,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

He kissed the back of my neck, gentle now, tender. Slowly, he pulled out of me, and I felt empty—physically, emotionally. Michael helped me from the table, tugging my panties back into place and smoothing my dress before brushing his lips softly against mine.

“Ready to go back to work?” he asked, a hint of amusement in his tone.

“I’m ready to go home and sleep for a year,” I muttered, unable to shake the guilt clawing at me.

“Then come to my place,” he coaxed, his eyes searching mine. “We’ll nap together.”

I managed a weak smile. “We won’t nap, and you know it.”

He grinned, that rare, toothy smile of his. “It was worth a shot.”

The moment stretched between us, the weight of what had just happened too heavy to ignore. I couldn’t take back what I’d said—what I’d done. Pandora’s box was wide open, and there was no shutting it.

“I have to go,” I said quietly, stepping away from him.

He frowned, his eyes darkening. “Then you’re mine when you get back,” he declared softly. “We need to have a long conversation about... everything.”

I nodded, too drained to argue. “Agreed.”

The intercom buzzed, and Michael glanced at his watch. “I’m late for a call,” he said, his voice distant now. “Go back to your desk, beautiful. Finish your work.”

He kissed my cheek before walking toward the door. Just before he left, he turned back and gave me one last look—one last smile. Then he was gone.

Alone, I let out a shaky breath. I needed to regain my composure before anyone saw me. But as I headed to the bathroom and caught my reflection in the mirror, I knew the truth. My flushed cheeks, my glazed eyes—the shame hit me like a punch to the gut. I was a wreck.

With trembling hands, I cleaned myself up, the scent of Michael’s cologne lingering on my clothes like a constant reminder of my betrayal.

And for the rest of the day, it would haunt me.

The moment I stepped into my apartment, the rich fragrance of roses hit me. I froze, my eyes sweeping the room for signs of anything unusual. Slade had stayed behind after I rushed to work this morning, and the flowers could raise questions I wasn’t prepared to answer.

I glanced around but saw nothing out of place. In the bedroom, however, the bed was neatly made, and the damp towel I’d left strewn across the bathroom floor was now hanging perfectly on the bar. My heart skipped. I quickly texted Slade to say I was home and would be ready in a few minutes. Moments later, my phone buzzed, and his name lit up the screen.

“You’re home?” Slade’s voice was clipped, something off in his tone.

“Of course. Would I tell you to pick me up if I wasn’t?”

There was a pause before he spoke again, a subtle edge creeping into his words. “Who were the roses from?”

I swallowed, keeping my voice calm. “My boss.”

“Elliot sent you flowers?” he asked, his voice darkening. “Why?”

“For a job well done,” I said, trying to keep it casual. “What did you think they were for?”

Slade’s silence spoke volumes. When he finally answered, his voice was tight. “Michael Elliot is a womanizing jerk. He likes to screw with women for fun. I just want to make sure you weren’t one of them.”

My jaw tightened. Anger flickered through me. “Do you think I’m that stupid? I wouldn’t sleep with my boss.”

“I didn’t say you would,” he replied coolly, “but he has a way of charming women.”

I could feel my frustration bubbling over. “How do you know so much about him? He’s been nothing but decent to me.”

“Word gets around,” he said dismissively. “I worry about you. I wouldn’t be surprised if he made a play for you.”

“Are you threatened by him?” I challenged, my pulse quickening.

“By Michael?” Slade scoffed. “Hardly.”

“He’s been respectful,” I repeated, trying to calm my racing thoughts.

“I’ve got my car downstairs,” he said, changing the subject abruptly. “I can pick you up in a little while.”

“Way to dodge the question,” I muttered.

“Do you want to keep talking about Elliot,” Slade said, his voice dropping, “or focus on the fun we’re going to have this weekend?”

I exhaled slowly, leaning into the shift. “The fun.”

“Good,” he replied, his tone lightening. “I was thinking we could rent some jet skis.”

“I’ve never been on one before,” I admitted, smiling despite myself.

“You’ll love it. They’re awesome.”

“I can’t wait.” I pulled a light yellow tank top from the closet. “I’m getting changed now. Come get me.”

“Fifteen minutes,” Slade said smoothly. “Wait for me in the lobby. No need to park.”

“Got it.” I hung up, tossing my phone onto the bed as I slipped into a pair of cut-off shorts and flip-flops.

As I made my way to the kitchen for a drink, my phone buzzed again. I answered without checking the screen. “What now?”

A low, familiar voice cut through the line, sending a shiver down my spine. “Is that how you answer the phone, Miss Kincaid?”

Michael. Instantly, my nipples tightened at the sound of his voice. “Where did you disappear to today?”

“I was busy,” he murmured, his tone silky smooth. “But I’m making one last attempt to convince you to join me this weekend.”

“I can’t,” I said, my voice firmer than I felt. “I have plans.”

“Break them,” he commanded, his voice like a dark caress.

I clenched my jaw. “You can’t just order me around and expect me to comply.”

“Why not?” he purred. “You were like putty in my hands this morning. I still have your scent on my fingers.”

I gasped. “You didn’t wash them?” My voice came out as a squeak.

“I did not,” he whispered. “I love how you smell. I wish I could bury my face in your little cunt right now.”

Heat flushed through me, my core tightening at the thought. I bit my lip to stifle a groan. “Stop it.”

“Stop what?” he teased. “Am I getting to you? Do you want me?”

“Not at the moment,” I lied, my breath quickening.

“Were you lying when you said you loved me?” His voice dropped, a challenge hanging in the air.

“I wouldn’t lie about something like that,” I said softly, my chest tightening.

“Then why can’t you give yourself to me fully?”

I closed my eyes, leaning against the counter. “I don’t want to talk about this right now. You said after the weekend.”

“And I meant it,” he said, his voice firm. “Be ready for a real conversation. My office should be finished by then. We’ll have privacy.”

“You mean so you can seduce me?” I shot back, though the idea was tempting.

He chuckled darkly. “There will be plenty of time to christen my new office. But first, I need to know where I stand with you.”

“Fine,” I relented, my heart thudding against my ribs. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go.”

“Don’t forget me, Morgan,” he whispered, the intimacy of his tone making my pulse race.

“Impossible,” I whispered, then hung up, my hands shaking.