Cross the Line

He lunged forwards to nip at my jaw, sending us tumbling backwards onto the bed, him on top of me. “You can make it up to me when we’re alone.”

“I’ll more than make it up to you,” I promised, as he trailed kisses across my face, pressing his hips into mine.

“Kian. You’re killing me.” My arms tightened around his body. All I wanted was to lose myself in him.

But I couldn’t. Not now.

Reluctantly, we broke apart, taking a moment to adjust ourselves and straighten our clothes, to try and make it look less obvious that we’d been messing around on my bed together. I held out my hand to him. “Come on. Let’s go back downstairs, since we can’t be trusted to be alone together without me wanting to jump on you. I think we have chocolate cake?”

Taking my hand, he leaned into me, giving me one final kiss before I unlocked and opened the door.

“It’s a poor substitute for your cock, but I guess it’ll do for now.”

I laughed, tugging him out of the room. Pausing at the top of the stairs, I turned to him, meeting his gaze. “You know I want you for more than just your body, right?”

A crooked smile lifted the corners of his lips. “I know. Same.” He squeezed my hand. “Come on. Feed me cake and tell me more about your life growing up in the US. I want to know everything.”

“Deal.”

14

DECEMBER

“Dad?” I stopped dead in the kitchen, seeing him sitting at the table, studying the newspaper in front of him, a mug of coffee in his hand. “What are you doing here?”

“I live here.” He spoke brusquely without even bothering to look up from his paper. Yeah, but you’re never here was on the tip of my tongue, but I swallowed the words. Setting his coffee down, he turned the page of his newspaper. “No more temper tantrums lately. I’m almost disappointed in you.” Now his eyes flicked to mine as his harsh words taunted me.

I balled my fists at my side, and I noticed his own were clenched, white-knuckled against the table. He hadn’t hit me since I discovered an aptitude for fighting and fought back against him when I was fifteen, but I knew the urge was always there. The asshole disliked the fact I existed, and as far as he was concerned, out of sight was out of mind.

Instead of replying, I turned to walk out of the kitchen, when his voice stopped me in my tracks. “I trust you’re over your little experiment.”

Spinning round to look at him, I counted to five in my head before I replied. “What experiment?”

“The boyfriend.” He spoke the words with distaste. This was the first time I’d spoken to my dad in person since Fright Night, and he wasn’t even bringing up the fact that Preston and I had smashed the fuck out of his Bentley. No, all he was concerned with was my relationship with Preston.

“Sorry to disappoint. He’s still around.”

His eyes narrowed. “He’s not welcome in my house. When will you come to your senses and get over this little phase?”

The only thing stopping me from raising my own fists to him was the thought of Preston. “I’m bisexual, Dad. It’s not a fucking phase.” Gritting my teeth, I spun on my heel and left him fuming behind me.

The only person I needed r

ight now was my boyfriend. It was our joint party tonight, but it was still early, and I needed to see him. Stalking through the house and into the garage, I threw open my car door and slid inside.

Fuck. I slammed my hand down on the steering wheel. Dragging my phone from my pocket, I texted Preston.

Me: Need you

Golden Boy: What’s up?

Me: My dad

Golden Boy: Meet at the warehouse? I’ll leave now

Me: I’ll pick you up

Golden Boy: OK. Hold on. I got you