“I’m not giving him up,” Adam said defiantly. “I told them and I’m telling you. Noah’s mine. I choose him.”
His father chuckled. “Relax, Adam. I’m not going to tell you to stop seeing him. But he is your responsibility. The more he knows, the more of a liability he becomes. If he betrays us, the consequences will be…dire.”
The tone in his father’s voice sent an icy chill along his spine. “He wouldn’t do that. Not to me. Not to anybody. He’s…a good person.”
His father studied him for a long moment. “Alright. I’ll talk to your brothers.”
“They’re going to be pissed,” Adam warned.
“Why’s that?”
“Because as much as Atticus likes to say he’s your favorite, they really think I am.”
Once more, his father gave a low chuckle. “They think? But you’re not?”
“No.”
His father crossed his arms over his chest, tilting his head. “You think I prefer any of my children over the other?”
Adam knew for a fact that his father had a favorite, but nobody talked about it. Aiden was his father’s favorite. He was the fourth adopted, before the murder twins, and his father had just always had a weird soft spot for him. Maybe it was because Aiden rarely talked while the rest of them never shut up. It was hard to say, but none of them dared state the obvious.
“No, Dad. I think you find us all equally annoying,” Adam lied smoothly.
His father gave a smile as fake as the one Adam returned. “Okay, go back to your boy. But remember what I said. He’s your responsibility now. I hope your instincts are good.”
Adam nodded before throwing the car back in reverse and slowly pulling out of the driveway. There was a lightness to him now that he had his father’s blessing. His brothers liked to huff and puff, but they’d never go against their dad. Ever.
Still, his father’s words wormed their way deeper into his head. Noah was his responsibility. Adam didn’t think Noah would ever betray him or his family, but the deeper they dove into Noah’s past, the more dangerous it became for him and, by extension, all of them. They needed to get to the bottom of Wayne Holt’s suspected pedophile ring and get Noah the justice he’d been denied.
But not tonight. Tonight, Noah was waiting for him. Adam’s cock twitched at the thought of Noah warm and willing in his bed. He’d been so fucking good for him earlier. So responsive. Could he push him further? Harder? How dark did Noah’s fantasies get? Adam was eager to find out.
Noah didn’t sleep well in strange beds. Years of foster care, hopping from house to house without ever having a home, had left him with an ever present sense of anxiety about sleeping in any bed but his own. Even when those beds felt like clouds and had pillows with just the right support and sheets with a thread count higher than his credit score. It was why he’d scraped every penny to buy his ugly ass trailer outright, so nobody could take his bed away ever again.
But sleeping in anybody’s bed but his own had really never been an issue. Noah didn’t date, didn’t have boyfriends or friends with benefits. That would’ve required having friends, and Noah didn’t have those either. It was easier that way. If you didn’t get close to someone, they couldn’t leave. That was what he told himself.
Or, at least, he had before Adam.
Noah hadn’t anticipated the sleepover, even when they’d pulled into Adam’s garage. Maybe it had been implied, but Noah hadn’t been in the best headspace after their deep dive at Gary’s house. It was his own fault. He let his guard down after Adam had specifically told him not to, but they’d been so close to getting out of there. He’d thought it was safe.
But then there was the picture. That stupid fucking picture of Gary and his dad, smiling and laughing. He knew why they were so fucking happy, knew that he’d been inside that cabin. Knew what would happen to him once they returned.
His stomach churned, bile rising in his throat, as his memories tried to fight their way to the surface. He shoved them back down with a frustrated growl, flopping on his stomach and burying his face in Adam’s pillow. His stomach swooped as the scent of spicy soap and expensive cologne filled his nose, triggering heat low in his belly.
What was he going to do about Adam? Adam, who had claimed Noah as his after just forty-eight hours, like some prehistoric caveman. Adam, who swore he’d never let anybody hurt Noah, like he was taking a blood oath. Adam, who had given him the most intense orgasm of his entire life before tucking him into bed and kissing his forehead.
Fuck. Noah wanted to believe Adam’s instincts. He wanted to think that the part of Adam that could feel had somehow recognized the parts of Noah that couldn’t and tried to close the gap. But the realist in him screamed that he was just ignoring a million red flags and, at best, he’d get his heart broken and, at worst, he’d end up in a ditch. He honestly wasn’t sure which was worse.
But as uncertain as he was of Adam’s intentions, he was very certain he wasn’t leaving. He wasn’t going to run. Noah had spent so much of his life feeling sad and lonely or feeling nothing at all. Adam made him feel good, made him feel excited. When he woke up that morning, Adam’s arms around him had made him feel…safe. And nothing had ever really made Noah feel safe.
Noah had been certain when Adam left that he’d pass the time in the darkened room staring at the shadows on the ceiling. But as soon as he’d buried his face in Adam’s scent, still drunk from his recent orgasm, his consciousness just faded to black.
*
Noah stirred as the soft comforter slid down and away, leaving him exposed to the frigid air conditioning pumping through the loft. He made a noise of disappointment at the disruption of his cocoon. He rubbed his face in the pillow, still in that space between awake and asleep.
The bed dipped near his feet, and then Adam’s naked body blanketed his back, his knees forcing Noah’s legs wide as he made himself at home between his legs, his hard cock pressing against the crevice of Noah’s ass.