The Secrets We Hide (The Four 2)

“I’m fucking addicted to you,” he husked against my mouth, as he lifted my hips, then impaled me on him.

“Cade,” I gasped as he filled me completely, working his fingers over my clit, thrusting up as I rode him towards an orgasm that left me shaking and breathless.

“Fuck, I’m gonna come,” he groaned, his head falling back. His dick jerked inside me as he came, emptying himself into the condom, and I leaned forwards, placing a kiss on his jaw as he muttered “fuuuuuck” on a long exhale.

He held me to him, both our breathing ragged as we recovered. He cupped my face in his hands, kissing me softly, before drawing back to look at me with a grin. “Better than the first time?”

I couldn’t help smiling at the self-satisfied expression on his face. “I think you already know the answer to that question.”

“I’m never gonna get enough of you, you know that, right? You’re my fucking addiction, baby.” He repeated his earlier words, all low and husky in my ear, and butterflies took off inside me.

“Same,” I said, managing to get that one word out around the lump in my throat. Gripping the back of his head, I pulled him into a kiss, pouring everything I had into it, letting it show him how I felt, too scared to say the words aloud.

“I reckon we can get out of here,” Cassius murmured to our small group in a low voice. I was standing in the corner of the orangery, constantly shuffling around since a particularly annoying tall plant kept tickling my ear, no matter where I stood. The rest of the Four were with me, minus Cade, who was talking to Arlo.

“Yeah, me too. We’ve been here long enough,” Weston agreed, and Cass glanced over at Caiden and caught his eye. An unspoken communication passed between them, before Cade gave a tiny nod. He said something to his dad, and they shook hands, before he sauntered over to us.

“Let’s go.”

Finally. I swiped my tiny bag from the floor and slung it across my body. We started moving towards the door, before I paused, placing my hand on Cade’s arm. “Hang on, I’d better go and say goodbye to my mother. You know she’ll complain if I don’t.” He pulled a face, and I added, “You don’t have to come. I’ll meet you at the car.”

He nodded, pretending to wipe his brow in relief, and I rolled my eyes. We split up in the hallway, the boys heading out of the front door while I made a beeline for the small sitting room where I was betting my mother was entertaining Cassius’ mother and her other friends.

Entering the room, I looked around, but no sign of Christine. Estella was there, perched on the edge of a sma

ll chaise longue, gesturing in the air as she chatted to another woman. She noticed me hovering in the doorway and paused in her conversation to greet me.

“Evening, Winter. Are you looking for your mother?”

I nodded. “Yes. I’m just leaving, so I wanted to say goodbye on my way out.”

She smiled, pointing to a row of glasses that stood on the low console table next to her chair. “I believe you’ll find her in the kitchen, on the hunt for olives. We’re having dirty martinis and we’ve run out.”

“Oh no, that won’t do,” I found myself saying, internally shaking my head, and the corner of her lips tipped up in amusement as she clearly picked up on the unintended sarcasm in my voice. Oh fuck. This was awkward. “Thank you. I’ll try there.”

With a small wave, I backed out of the room as quickly as I could, my cheeks burning, and headed down to the kitchen, passing a huge, ornate gilt-framed portrait of my mother and Arlo, painted in oils, that hung on the wall, dominating the space. That was new.

I reached the kitchen.

I stopped dead, pressing my body flat against the wall, my heart beating wildly.

My mind tried to make sense of what I was hearing and seeing.

I didn’t understand.

What the fuck was going on?

TWENTY-NINE

The back of a head, a small bald patch in his greying hair, a phone pressed to his ear. Speaking in low, rapid-fire Russian (I think). One word flew out at me, as loud as if he’d shouted it.

Ivanov.

He turned, and I could see his profile, even though I knew who it was without a shadow of a doubt, the moment I saw his back, clad in the same classic black butler’s outfit he wore constantly.

Allan.

I remained rooted to the spot, in total shock.