Page 23 of Surge


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“Now that surprises me,” he said.

“Why?”

“You hate it when we’re all messy from sex.”

“It wouldn’t have been so messy if you’d left it inside me.”

He shook his head. “You naughty, naughty girl. You could say that a million times and I wouldn’t get sick of hearing it. You have no idea how much I want that. I just wanted to be sure. I know we did it last night, but… accidents happen. I want you to be ready.” He kissed me softly.

I drew in a big breath, hoping to cleanse myself of a bit of this lust. So he knew I meant the words I said. “It wouldn’t be an accident. It would be a gift.” My cell chimed, interrupting a deep conversation we didn’t have time to have. I whined. “We’d better motivate if you’re getting on that plane.”

He turned around to peep at a digital clock on his nightstand. “Shit, it’s late.” A mischievous grin tugged at his lips. “I like what you just said.”

My heart glowed with his approval. “You did?”

He nodded and kissed my lips. “I wish we didn’t have to go.” Thankfully he’d changed the subject or we might not have. “What are you going to tell Dixie when you walk in all disheveled and rosy-cheeked?”

I still wasn’t sure where my mom stood on all of the Drake stuff. On the one hand, he’d been an outlet for her pain. But on the other, she’d had many weeks of nonstop therapy in rehab and couldn’t possibly justify that anymore. I had wondered if the tipoff about how to help Drake in this lawsuit was an olive branch.

Drake joked again. “Not sure if she’d rather you had a one-night stand or me.”

He laughed, but only for a moment when it turned into a cough, and he tensed his shoulders to what appeared to be pain in his chest.

“Babe. Are you okay?”

“Fuck.” He seemed to be short of breath. “Yeah. Don’t worry. That orgasm must have taken it out of me.” He tried to laugh again, but it was shallow.

“Drake, this is fucking stress. You need to talk about it and not put on a brave face for me. Or anyone else for that matter. Dealing with lawsuits fucks with everyone. Promise you aren’t the first client that’s ever had anxiety.”

He furrowed his eyebrows. “Yeah, maybe Hunter is a better psychiatrist than he is lawyer. I can see a therapy session with him would bring great comfort.”

“I meant talk to me.”

“Maeve, don’t be annoyed, but I don’t think you’re the right person to talk to either. You have your own agenda.”

“What do you mean?” Had Hunter told him I’d come up with the countersuit idea?

“Let’s string together the evidence. You don’t call Jay by his name, only any and every synonym for Satan. At Uyu, you wanted to gather evidence to bury him, which was before we were even together, and the text you sent when you heard about this admitted you were on a witch hunt getting a bonfire ready.”

I shrugged innocently. “It was metaphorical.”

“I get that. This isn’t forensics, it’s character evidence.”

“You make me sound lethal.”

“In this instance, you are.”

I ran my finger down the center of his chest. “In this instance, I would be. There’s a lot at stake here. No pun intended.”

Drake kissed my forehead. “This time, I’m lethal, too. But I’d use the metaphor of burying, not burning.”

I stiffened. “Are you saying you’re going after Jay?”

Though Drake didn’t necessarily have a hell of a lot of choice in what the RI legal team did, he had power nevertheless. The countersuit definitely required Drake to produce evidence, and a part of me didn’t think he’d want to take Jay down. Drake was the most loyal and loving person I’d ever met. And he definitely wasn’t the type to kick people when they were down.

As self-aware as he was, love could delude us all. It could make us believe that someone was still who they were when they’d loved us back. But people changed, even if we didn’t want them to. I feared Drake would continue to protect Jason and not see him for who he’d been the past year.

His approach as captain of the crew was to gain loyalty through earning respect and extending unconditional love. I had less finesse and thought defectors should be publicly shot. Perhaps somewhere in the middle of our methods was the righteous one.

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