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Too Late(93)

By:Colleen Hoover


“I’m about to be a free man,” I tell him, staring up at the ceiling with a huge goddamn fucking smile on my face. “Which means I finally get to marry my fiancé. In a real wedding. With a three-tier coconut cake.”

I can’t help but laugh, just thinking about it.

I’m coming for you, Sloan. Whether you think you want me to or not.

You promised to love me.

Forever.

And you fucking will.





The End





Epilogue for the epilogue


You guys didn't really think I would do that to you, did you?





Happy 4/20!

SLOAN



I bring the cup of coffee to my mouth. My hands are shaking so bad, it makes tiny little black waves of coffee crash against the sides of my cup.

I glance over at the clock on the far wall. Three in the morning.

It’s been two days since Asa’s case was thrown out. He was bailed out that afternoon. Luke and I were sent to this apartment in the city for protection until the next hearing.

It’s a nice apartment, but when I’m too scared to step outside or even look out the window, it feels more like a prison. Luke has assured me over and over that there’s no way Asa will find us here. But what Luke probably doesn’t understand is that even if Asa is locked up in prison the rest of his life, I’ll still constantly be looking over my shoulder. If it isn’t Asa himself that could hurt me or Luke, I wouldn’t put it past him to hire someone else to do it.

I turn my head when I hear the bedroom door open. Luke walks out, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He’s wearing black jogging pants that hang off his hips and no shirt. The bandages from his wound cover most of his chest. He’s barefoot, shuffling across the hard wood floor toward me.

He reaches the back of the couch and I lean my head back and look up at him. He leans forward and kisses my forehead upside down. “You okay?”

I shrug. “I can’t sleep. Again.”

His eyes are sympathetic and he lifts a hand, brushing my hair off my forehead. “Sloan,” he says quietly. “You don’t have to worry here. He can’t find us. We’re safe until his next trial, I promise.”

I nod again, but his words do little to comfort me. I’ll never trust Asa, no matter how safe I should feel.

He walks around the couch and sits down, pulling me onto his lap until I’m straddling him. He wraps his hands around my lower back and says, “What can I do to help you sleep?”

I smile. I like his distraction methods. “It’s only been two weeks since you were released. You have two more to go.”

His hands cup my ass beneath his oversized t-shirt I’m wearing. He slides his fingers beneath the edges of my panties, sending chills over me and forcing Asa out of my head for a few seconds. “I wasn’t thinking about sex with you,” he says. “I was thinking more along the lines of what I could do for you.”

One of his hands slides around to my stomach and then up to my breast. His thumb brushes my nipple at the same time his tongue slides across my lips. He kisses me, deep, then pulls back just as I start to grow dizzy.

“I’ll be careful,” he says. “My hands and mouth will do all the work, but I’ll make sure the rest of me takes it easy. Okay?”

I know I should encourage his recovery, but every time he touches me, it calms me down. Makes me less nervous.

I need that right now.

“Okay,” I whisper.

He smiles and then pulls off my shirt. His mouth covers my right breast, and after giving that one attention, he moves to my left. Then he pushes me until my back is against the couch and he’s hovering over me. His lips drag across my mouth, my neck, my breasts. His breath warms up every part of me while his hand works it’s way inside my panties.

He adjusts me until I have one leg lifted over the back of the couch and one leg on the floor. He rests his lips against mine and whispers, “Watch me.”

I open my eyes, just as his fingers slip inside me. I moan, struggling to keep my eyes open, but he likes the eye contact.

I like it, too. It’s new for me.

In the past, with Asa, I’ve always kept my eyes shut tight because I never wanted to look at him.

With Luke, I’m scared I’ll miss something. I don’t want to miss the way he looks at me, the way he responds to my noises. I love the eye contact.

He presses his thumb against me while his fingers remain inside of me and we only have to keep eye contact for no more than thirty seconds, because that’s all it takes for his touch to completely send me over the edge. As soon as I start shaking beneath him, he claims my mouth with his, swallowing his name as it flows from my lips. He kisses me until it’s over, and then lowers himself until he’s pressed against me. I can feel him bulging through his sweatpants and it creates another need in me.