Page 118 of Powerless
The kind of love I’ve been known to sully.
I grip her chin and kiss her. I kiss her hard and full of all the feelings I’m too fucked-up to put a title on.
And then we topple over the edge together, into something I’m trying not to let panic me.
I fight to stay in the moment, with her pressed tightly against me.
We’re so in tune.
So perfect together.
So perfect together that icy tendrils slink down my spine. Because I’m me. And anytime something is perfect, it always goes to shit.
The knock on the door is proof of that.
33
Jasper
“Just a second!” Sloane melts against me.
We’re plastered against each other, breathing heavily when there’s another hard knock at the door.
I smirk, running my nose along the back of her neck, damp with sweat and little flyaways loose from the tight bun in her hair. “Someone probably heard you screaming and wants to check if you’re alright.”
Her shoulders shake with laughter as I pepper kisses over them. “I’m not alright. You made a mess of me, and my legs are going to give out if you let me go.”
With a deep laugh, I swoop into a crouch, picking her robe up off the floor, knowing it will be the quickest, easiest way to cover her up. With me holding it wide, she slides her arms into the loose sleeves while I settle it around her shoulders.
I spin her to face me, press a quick kiss to her ravaged lips, and step back to fix my own pants. I don’t bother tucking my dress shirt in. I just make sure I’m clothed and shove my dick back into hiding.
Sloane’s deft fingers make quick work of the belt around her waist, and after a once-over of me, she nods. And blushes, pushing those little flyaways back with a disbelieving shake of her head.
She gives me that look a lot, like she can’t believe we’re here, doing this. Sometimes I feel the same. Like it’s all just a dream.
When she swings the door open, that dream freezes in place. We wake up from it abruptly, like we’ve fallen right out of bed.
Robert and Cordelia Winthrop are standing in the hallway. Robert is red, almost vibrating with fury. Sloane’s mom is standing a few feet behind him, eyes dropped to her shoes with an embarrassed blush on her cheeks.
“What the fuck doyouthink you’re doing here?” Robert asks.
Sloane’s arms cross and she goes instantly rigid. “I could ask you the same thing, Dad.”
“I wasn’t talking to you, Sloane. The ballet company announced in the newspaper you were filling in, and we would never miss our little girl on stage. I’m talking toyou.” His meaty pointer finger jabs in my direction. “What the fuck areyoudoing in here withmylittle girl?”
What I want to say is,I think you heard exactly what I was doing to your little girl,but I have more respect for Sloane than to go there.
I hit him with a blank look and push my hands into my pockets, which just draws his gaze to my untucked shirt. “What I should have done a long time ago.”
Robert’s hand trembles as he thrusts his finger my way with force, right over Sloane’s shoulder, like she isn’t even there. “I told you to stay the hell away from her.” His loose jowls jiggle with the force of his anger.
“It seems you failed to inform me of that.” Sloane’s hand props against the door as though she’s blocking her father from getting at me. Protecting me like always.
To her own detriment.
“Sloane, move aside like a good girl. This doesn’t concern you. We’ll have plenty to discuss once I have taken the trash out.”
Good girl?Is he out of his fucking mind talking to her like she’s a dog?
