Unleashed (The Elliott Brothers #2)

Chapter 20

CHAPTER 20

T hat night, I jolted awake, my chest tight and heart racing from the remnants of a nightmare. Slade was still curled around me, his familiar warmth anchoring me to reality, but the dream lingered. It wasn’t Michael who haunted me this time, but Slade—disappearing from the boat we’d taken almost a year ago. The same guilt that I’d pushed deep down was creeping back, gnawing at me in the silence of the night.

I loved Slade, truly. Michael had been... different. The chemistry was undeniable, but could I even trust the love he claimed to have felt for me? Or was it just his way of keeping me tethered to him?

I lay there, staring into the darkness, wrestling with the uneasy thoughts until exhaustion finally pulled me under again. But sleep was restless, and when I finally woke for the second time, Slade was gone from bed. The rich aroma of coffee teased me awake, and I knew I’d find him in the kitchen, probably in his boxers, reading The New York Times with his “I am the Boss” mug in hand.

Sure enough, as I padded down the hall in nothing but my black panties, there he was. He glanced up, eyes immediately sweeping over me, a playful smirk tugging at his lips.

“Christ,” he murmured, his voice thick with appreciation. “If you could greet me like this every morning, I’d be in heaven.”

I couldn’t help but notice the way his boxers tented at the sight of me. His arousal was unmistakable, and I felt a mischievous spark ignite within me. “If I greeted you like this every day,” I teased, “I’d be sore beyond belief.”

He grinned, leaning back in his chair as his eyes darkened. “You’re not sore now? Maybe I need to step up my game.”

“You do just fine,” I assured him with a wink, sliding into the seat next to him.

His arm wrapped around me, his knuckles grazing the bare skin of my back in slow, lazy circles. The moment felt tender, but as my hand wandered to his hard cock, slipping it from his boxers, the tenderness shifted to raw desire. I began to stroke him, slow and deliberate.

“Fuck,” he groaned, head falling back against the chair. “That feels so good.”

“You act like we never have sex,” I teased, feeling his cock twitch in my hand.

“All I want to do is have sex with you,” he rasped, his hips lifting slightly with each stroke. “We should just stay home and do that all day.”

I smiled at his suggestion. “And how would the bills get paid?”

“I’m the vice president. I can do what I want,” he shot back, biting his lip as I tightened my grip.

I picked up the pace, watching his muscles tense beneath my touch. His breaths grew ragged, his hands gripping my waist as I worked him faster, harder.

“You’re going to make me come,” he panted, his voice thick with lust.

“That’s the point,” I whispered, eyes locked on his face as his release built.

With a sharp gasp, his body arched, and his cock pulsed in my hand, spilling hot cum across his chest and stomach. The tension in his body melted away as the last tremors of his orgasm faded, and he slumped back in the chair, a lazy grin on his face.

“Morgan,” he breathed, “I love you. Let’s take a shower together.”

I wiped my hand on his boxers, grinning as I stood and held out my hand. “A perfect way to start the day.”

“No,” he said, his eyes twinkling as he stood and followed me down the hall. “This was the perfect way to start the day.”

"Fuck me, Slade. Harder."

Slade had me pressed against the cool, tiled shower wall, water cascading over us as he drove into me with powerful, deliberate thrusts. His fingers dug into the soft flesh of my ass, holding me in place as our bodies collided. Each movement sent a jolt of pleasure through me, and I couldn’t get enough. My hands slid up his slick chest, and I reached for his wet hair, pushing it back from his forehead before pulling him in for a hungry kiss, our tongues tangling as the heat between us intensified.

His lips were hot and eager, tasting every inch of my mouth. We moaned into each other, the sound lost beneath the steady rhythm of water hitting the shower floor. My nails bit into his shoulders as I arched against him, desperate for more. He groaned, his breath ragged against my lips, and I felt him tremble just as I began to unravel.

"Oh God... Slade..." My voice was a breathy whisper, and I clung to him as the orgasm tore through me, waves of ecstasy crashing over my body.

His grip tightened as his hips snapped upward one last time, his body going rigid as he found his release, groaning my name in a voice that sent a shiver down my spine. For a few moments, we stood there, panting, bodies pressed together as the last remnants of pleasure washed over us like the water cascading down our skin.

Spent and sated, he held me against the tile, his forehead resting against mine. “God, I love you,” he whispered, his breath warm on my lips. “We’re so in sync... it’s like we’re made for each other.”

I smiled, kissing his jaw as I slowly came back to earth. “I love you too. Always.”

A few minutes later, when our heartbeats finally slowed, he lowered me to the floor and kissed my temple before grabbing a towel. “So... what do you want to do today?” he asked casually, drying off.

“Nothing,” I replied, still catching my breath.

“Nothing?” He raised an eyebrow as he wrapped the towel around his waist. “It’s gorgeous out. How about a run in the park?”

I shot him a look. “We just took a shower.”

He chuckled, his grin infectious. “We can take another. Come on, it’s perfect out. Shorts weather, finally.”

“Next week, it’s supposed to cool down again. Don’t get used to it.”

He groaned dramatically, running a hand through his wet hair. “Don’t remind me. That winter was brutal.”

It had been, but it wasn’t all bad. I smiled, thinking back to the snowstorm when Slade had asked me to marry him. Central Park, snow falling around us, and the surprise of his proposal made it unforgettable.

“It could’ve been worse,” I teased, watching him.

“I have no idea how. We were stuck working out indoors.”

I smirked. “Soon it’ll be summer, and you’ll be whining about the heat.”

“Never,” he said with a mischievous glint in his eye, snapping his towel at my bare ass.

I yelped, half-laughing. “Hey, that hurt!”

“Want me to kiss it and make it better?” he asked, his grin widening as he stepped closer.

“Jerk,” I muttered, rolling my eyes even as a smile tugged at my lips.

He feigned offense. “I resent that.”

I grabbed my hairbrush and started working through the tangles in my long hair. Before I could make much progress, Slade took the brush from my hand and moved behind me. His hands were gentle as he worked through the knots, and I leaned into the sensation, my body relaxing under his touch.

“I love when you brush my hair,” I murmured, closing my eyes. “It’s so...”

“Intimate?” he finished softly.

I nodded. “Yeah, that.”

He smiled, leaning down to kiss the side of my neck. “I love being intimate with you.”

The warmth in his voice made my heart swell, and I turned to face him. “Maybe we should go for that run in the park after all.”

His eyes lit up. “Yeah? I’d love that.”

“Don’t bother finishing the hair,” I said, grinning. “I’ll just put it up in a ponytail.”

He chuckled, running his fingers through the strands one last time. “Deal. But can I brush it after our next shower?”

I laughed, swatting his chest playfully. “If you must.”

“Don’t tempt me,” he said with a wink, pulling me close for another kiss.

I had no idea that our run would give me the shock of my life. The moment I saw him—or thought I saw him—my breath caught in my throat, knocking the wind out of me.

Slade and I jogged through Central Park, weaving between parents with their children, people walking dogs, and teenagers skating dangerously close to the cops. The warmth of the sun kissed my skin, and I reveled in the gentle breeze that stirred the budding leaves. It was one of those perfect spring days that made you forget how miserable winter had been. I felt light, carefree... until I saw him.

It couldn’t be. Michael’s shaggy chestnut hair fell below his collar, a sharp contrast to the clean-cut image I’d carried of him. His thin beard and mustache, a few shades lighter than his hair, were new too. But those eyes—those ice-blue eyes—locked onto me with the same intensity that used to make my heart skip a beat. My legs almost gave out from the shock, and I stumbled, coming to a halt.

I bent over, hands on my knees, struggling to catch my breath—not from the run but from the sudden reappearance of a ghost.

Slade was already several feet ahead when he noticed I was no longer beside him. “Morgan?” he called, turning back to me, concern creasing his brow as he jogged toward me. I forced myself to straighten up, my chest still heaving.

“What’s wrong?” His voice was laced with worry.

“Cramp,” I lied, wincing as if in pain. “In my thigh. Hurts like hell.” I spoke louder than I needed to, catching the side-eye of a woman walking by with two small children. She shot me a dirty look, and I ignored it.

Slade stepped closer, eyes scanning me for any sign of injury. “You want to walk it off?”

“I’d rather go home.” I glanced in the direction where I’d seen Michael, but he was gone. My pulse raced. Had I imagined him?

Slade frowned. “We’ve only done two miles.”

“If you want to keep going, fine. I’ll head back on my own.”

He blinked, surprised by the sharpness in my tone. “I thought we were spending the day together?”

“Excuse me for ruining your good time.” The words came out harsher than I intended, but I was too rattled to care.

“Morgan, that’s not what I meant,” he said, clearly confused. “If you want to go home, I’ll take you.”

I crossed my arms. “Are you sure?” The sarcasm was thick in my voice, but I couldn’t stop myself.

His jaw tightened, irritation flashing in his eyes. “Are you looking for a fight?”

“No, Slade. I just want to go home. My home.”

“Fine,” he snapped. “Go. I’ll call you later. You sure as hell changed your attitude in the past half hour.”

“Whatever.” I turned and started limping toward the park exit, faking the injury to keep up the lie. Slade stood there, watching me, probably baffled by my sudden change in mood. I didn’t care. My mind was spinning.

A moment later, I heard his footsteps behind me, and before I could protest, he scooped me up in his arms.

“What the hell are you doing?” I hissed, wriggling in his grip. “People are watching.”

“I don’t give a damn,” he growled, holding me tighter. “You’re my fiancée. I can take care of you.”

I shot him a sharp look. “What changed in the past minute to make you decide that?” I asked, throwing his earlier words back at him.

He glared at me, then softened. “Don’t be nasty. If you want to go home, I’ll take you.”

I sighed, too emotionally drained to fight anymore. “Just take me to your apartment.”

As he carried me through the park, I glanced over his shoulder, scanning the crowd for any trace of Michael. But he was gone. Had I imagined him? My heart hammered in my chest, the shock of seeing him—or thinking I had—rattling me to the core. Michael had disappeared almost a year ago without a word. No calls, no letters, just... vanished. And now, out of nowhere, he was here? My stomach twisted.

Back at Slade’s apartment, he set me down on the couch and immediately started massaging my thigh. I leaned back, closing my eyes, trying to make sense of what I’d seen. Was it real?

“Does that feel better?” he asked, his hands warm against my skin.

“Yeah, thank you.” I forced a smile, but my mind was miles away. “I’m sorry I snapped at you.”

Slade sighed, sitting down beside me. “What was that all about?”

“Nothing,” I lied again, shaking my head. “I’m just... on edge.”

He studied my face, concerned. “You were fine until yesterday. It’s the wedding, isn’t it? I told you to let Maelynn handle the details. Why are you stressing?”

I exhaled slowly, rubbing my temples. “I don’t know. Everything’s just... hitting me.”

He gave me a wry smile. “Is this how it’s gonna be for the next four months?”

“No, I’ll calm down.” I forced a laugh, but my mind was spinning.

“That’s my girl,” he said, leaning in to kiss my forehead.

For some reason, his words made my chest tighten. The satisfaction on his face, as if he’d just fixed everything with a simple phrase, only made it worse. What if Michael was really back? What if all the feelings I’d buried for him started clawing their way to the surface?

I should hate him. He left me with no answers, no closure. Where did he go? Why didn’t he tell me he was leaving that day for the ocean? I had followed the news reports, waited for any sign of him after the authorities searched the Atlantic, but they found nothing. Michael had the means to disappear if he wanted, but why would he? Was it because of me? Because I couldn’t fully commit, even when I said I loved him?

I should be grateful he made the choice for me. But the more I thought about it, the more my anger twisted into guilt. And doubt.

“Morgan?” Slade’s voice pulled me from my thoughts.

I blinked, looking up at him. “Huh?”

Slade’s voice broke through my thoughts, snapping me back to the present. “You were a million miles away.”

I blinked, offering him a quick smile. “Sorry, I was just thinking. What did you say?”

“I asked if you wanted to do anything today or just take it easy?”

“Take it easy.” I hesitated, the words tasting strange on my tongue. “Can we... watch television?”

He gave me a curious look. He knew, as well as I did, that I rarely used the TV for entertainment. My free time was spent in a book, working out, or with friends. Television never fit into the equation, except for the occasional morning or evening news.

Without a word, Slade grabbed the remote from the sleek, smoke-glass coffee table and handed it to me. His expression was unreadable, but I could sense the faint hint of skepticism in his silence. I flipped on the flat-screen across from the couch, letting the channels cycle through.

I paused on the news.

“The news?” Slade raised a brow, pulling me from my thoughts.

“Yeah. I’m curious.”

He cocked his head. “Curious about what?”

“Can I just watch the news?” I snapped, sharper than I intended.

Slade’s expression darkened. He stood up, the tension between us hanging in the air like a thick fog. “I’m going to take a shower.”

“Have fun,” I muttered.

He pulled his shirt off with a huff, revealing the toned muscles of his back, and shot me a scowl before heading toward the bathroom. I barely registered his departure as I flipped through more news channels, the familiar hum of broadcasters filling the quiet apartment. But nothing about Michael. I scrolled again, flipping from one anchor to the next.

It was as if he never existed. Months ago, there had been a brief frenzy about his disappearance, but the news cycle had moved on, forgetting him in the way it forgets everything that doesn’t last more than 48 hours. A pit formed in my stomach, the gnawing ache of uncertainty. His family had to be devastated—how could they not be?

That’s when it hit me. Erika.

I snatched my phone off the coffee table and dialed her number.

A groggy voice answered. “This better be good,” Erika grumbled.

“Excuse me?” I frowned, thrown by her tone.

“It’s before noon, Morgan. You know I don’t wake up this early on a Sunday.”

I glanced at the clock. “Erika, it’s almost eleven. That’s hardly early.”

“It is for me. Lincoln took me out last night, and, well, one thing led to another...” She trailed off with a suggestive tone, leaving no doubt in my mind about what "another" meant.

I shivered, trying to shake off the unwelcome comparison between Lincoln and Michael. If they were anything alike, Erika was probably exhausted.

“Is he still there?” I asked, keeping my voice light.

“No,” she huffed. “The freak got up to go to the gym. Can you believe that? After last night, and again this morning, he still had the energy to work out.”

I smirked. “Sounds like an Elliott.”

“Why are you calling me, anyway?”

“Did Lincoln mention anything about Michael?”

“Michael?” She sounded confused. “No, why would he?”

I lowered my voice and glanced toward the hallway, making sure the shower was still running. “Slade and I went for a run in Central Park this morning, and I swear, Erika, I saw Michael.”

Her laugh was cold, dismissive. “You’re out of your mind. He’s gone, Morgan. Why would you even want him to come back? You’re marrying Slade in a few months.”

“I don’t want him to come back,” I lied, my stomach twisting at the thought. “But if he is back... it could complicate things.”

“Lincoln told me if Michael’s alive—and he believes he is—he hasn’t heard from him since the day he disappeared.”

My pulse quickened. “Tell me. What happened the day he disappeared?”

There was a pause on the other end. “Lincoln was on the beach with friends, and Michael called to say he was taking his boat out. Lincoln said he sounded... off, like he was done. He didn’t think much of it because Michael could be a loner, but when they found the boat without him... well, no one’s heard from him since.”

“And his family?”

“Heartbroken,” Erika said quietly. “Michael was always his mother’s favorite.”

I pressed a hand to my forehead, guilt gnawing at me. “Maybe I imagined it.”

“It’s possible.”

“It makes me sad. I keep thinking... maybe I had something to do with it.”

Erika’s voice softened. “You were just one part of his life. You couldn’t have known what else was happening.”

I heard the bathroom door creak open, signaling Slade was finished with his shower. “I have to go.”

“Good,” Erika yawned. “Lincoln’s taking me to lunch later, and I need my beauty sleep.”

I chuckled despite myself. “You’re gorgeous without it.”

“Thanks, but we’re getting older, Morgan. Age catches up with everyone.”

“Speak for yourself,” I teased, and she hung up with a laugh.

I slipped down the hallway to the bedroom, where Slade was standing, dressed only in gray shorts. He looked effortlessly handsome, his hair still damp from the shower.

“You look yummy,” I said, trying to ease the tension.

He gave me a wary look. “You over your mood?”

I sighed, stepping closer. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to fight.”

“Neither do I.” His voice softened, and he cupped my face in his hands. “I love you, Morgan. If you’re feeling stressed, talk to me. I don’t want you bottling things up.”

“I will. I promise.” I pressed my forehead to his chest, breathing in the familiar scent of him. “I won’t stress about the wedding. Maelynn can handle the arrangements.”

“That’s why we hired her.”

I gave a small smile. “That’s why you hired her.”

“It’s for both of us,” he corrected. “Our wedding.”

Slade pulled back slightly, studying my face. “By the way, my parents want to have lunch next weekend.”

I froze, the familiar unease tightening in my chest. Keaton, Slade’s father, was a shadow between us. “Your father doesn’t like me.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I’m not. Maybe that’s why I didn’t get the promotion.”

Slade sighed, frustration flickering in his eyes. “Maybe they thought Thomas was more qualified.”

“To do what? Sit around clueless? Everyone knows he was incompetent.”

“Morgan,” Slade’s voice was strained. “It’s in the past. We’re engaged now. Can we move on?”

I hesitated. “Can I think about lunch?”

“What’s to think about?” His temper flared. “I don’t give your parents a hard time.”

“My parents don’t dislike you.”

“My father doesn’t dislike you either!” he snapped, his voice rising. “Are you trying to start something?”

I recoiled. “No, Slade, I’m not.”

“Then maybe you should go home before we say something we regret.”

“Fine.” My voice was cold, my heart pounding as I grabbed my things and left without another word.