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A hiccup leaves his throat. “You look so hot in those p-pitchers. All oiled and—“ Hiccup. “Muscles.”

“Jesus.”

He’s definitely had too much to drink. And knowing Shilo, he’s probably got an empty stomach as well. His lids slide shut as he slumps down, clearly ready to pass out.

“Wait for me right here. Don’t move.”

He doesn’t respond, already asleep, his breathing deep and even. I make quick work of cleaning up the mess, including the wireless keyboard still sticky with his cum, before heading to the elevator. Once in my office, I swap it with my own, ensuring there’s no trace of what happened upstairs.

A buzz in my pocket pulls my attention, and I curse under my breath at Olivia’s text.

Olivia SinClaire:

Ronin’s looking for you.

Fuck. He’s going to be livid that I vanished during his big announcement and missed my speech. There’s no fixing that now, though, so I fire off an email about a fake work emergency, hoping it’ll buy me some time. Next, I text Paige to let her know I’m taking her brother home.

Ronin’s fury can wait until morning. Right now, my little doll needs me.

Shilo’s still right where I left him, snoozing soundly, looking adorably uncomfortable with his head bent forward at an awkward angle.

After swapping out the keyboard, I nudge his shoulder. “Come on, baby, let’s get you home.”

“Lee’ me alone,” he grumbles, weakly swatting at my arms, and I grunt as I lift him to his feet.

“Trust me, you do not want to sleep here.”

He fights the whole way to the elevator, leaning heavily against me and eventually dropping his full body weight into my arms, weighing so little that it’s unnerving. With a frown, I glance down at his sleeping face as the elevator descends to the parking garage. Even through the fabric of his tux, he feels too thin. Frail, almost. It makes me uneasy. From what I remember, he wasn’t this small back in August. But then again, I’ve never held him for long. How would I know if this is normal for him?

Those high school photos I saw on Thanksgiving flash through my memory—Shilo, younger and healthier, a softness to his face that’s long gone. That, paired with catching him in the bathroom, his fingers down his throat...

My arms instinctively tighten around him. No, I don’t think this is normal at all.

Once we reach the car, I buckle Shilo into the passenger seat before sliding behind the wheel. But as soon as I start the engine, he unbuckles himself, shifting sideways until his head rests in my lap with a contented sigh.

I should push him off, tell him to sit upright and put the seat belt back on. Safety first, after all. But my fingers have a mind of their own, slipping into his soft strands, combing through them. I just… can’t. So I let him stay like that as I drive us to his house, taking the scenic route to steal a little more time.

“Shilo, you need to wake up. We’re here.”

Pulling up to the curb, I gently lift him upright, and he mumbles something incoherent under his breath before fumbling for the door handle. As the door swings open, he pitches sideways, and if it weren’t for my quick grip on his jacket sleeve, he would’ve face-planted right onto the pavement.

“Fucking hell.” I yank him back, scowling when he laughs like this is some kind of game.

Scoffing, he waves off my words with a lazy hand before scooting closer. My breath catches as he shifts, and before I can react, he’s straddling me, settling onto my lap.

“This,” he murmurs softly. “I want this.”

“Shilo, goddammit, we need to get you inside.”

With a hum, he wraps his arms around me and buries his face into my neck. The feeling of his lips on my skin plus the pressure of him sitting on my crotch has my cock swelling, but I ignore it, choosing to get out of the car instead while he clings to me like a koala.

As I approach the front door, the house is brightly lit with Christmas decorations, the glow warm and inviting, but all the windows are dark. My plan is simple: drop him off on the porch, make sure he gets inside, and leave. But when I try to set him down, he clings tighter, his legs locking stubbornly around my waist like he has no intention of letting go.

Heaving a heavy sigh, I fish into his pockets, pulling out his keys to unlock the door. “Your father is going to be unhappy if he catches you like this.”

“Not here,” my little doll mumbles against my throat. “He’s on duty. Only Mom.”

Thank fuck for small miracles, at least.