Page 77 of Obey

Well, damn. We've brought a match into a room soaked in gasoline.

Elias goes still beside the sofa. Nate's expression darkens, and for once, neither of them has a damn thing to say. But Sloane sees none of it, winding her hair around one finger, lips curved in that half-smile.

"Baby." My voice scrapes raw. "You're not thinking clearly."

She lets out a soft, frustrated moan as her fingers slide into my hair. “But I am.” She gives it a gentle tug, pulling me a little closer, and I have to fight the urge to close the distance between us.

“Sloane.” Nate’s raised voice cuts through the room. “Drink the water.”

She flinches. It’s tiny, but all three of us catch it as her face crumples, and those big brown eyes fill with liquid that threatens to spill over.

Damn, Nate and his fucking temper.

I know he’s reacting to the leftover fear more than anything else, but he really needs to fucking cool it with the tone of his voice.

“Easy, Nate,” I tell him, quieter this time. “She’s not doing it on purpose.”

Sloane sniffles, looking at Nate with so much betrayal you'd think he'd committed a federal offense. “You pinkie swore,” she mumbles.

Oh, shit.

“You said you weren't gonna yell at me anymore.” She raises her pinkie, wiggling it accusingly. “That's a legally bindin' contract, Nathaniel.”

I press my lips together, fighting the laugh threatening to escape. Nate looks from her raised finger to her tearful face, and whatever argument he was preparing dies before it reaches his mouth.

Nate closes his eyes for a beat, hen he crouches in front of her. “I’m sorry, Sola. I’m not angry with you. I’m worried, and apparently I’m doing a poor job separating the two.”

She blinks at him, her tears slowing. “Really? You mean it?”

“I do,” Nate assures her.

Sloane studies him for a moment before raising her pinkie again. “Okay, but we need a new contract. 'Cause you broke the first one.”

Nate glances at her extended finger. “And what are the terms of this new contract, Sola?”

“No more yellin' at me. And you gotta ask nicely when you want me to do stuff.” She pauses, considering. “With a please.”

“Agreed.”

“And...” She rises onto her knees on the sofa, facing him. Her dress inches higher along her thighs, the lace stretching across her curves as she tilts her chin up. “I want a hug.”

Fuck.

Nate goes completely still.

She's kneeling in front of him, those big brown eyes fixed on his face, her hands resting loosely against her thighs. She has no idea what she looks like right now, or what that simple movement does to the three men watching her.

My gaze flicks to Elias. His attention is locked on Sloane, his jaw tight, and when I look back at Nate, I recognize the expression on his face.

I've seen it in the playroom. That focused intensity when something he wants is right in front of him, waiting for his next move.

Except Sloane isn't playing. She's looking at him with complete trust, asking for something as simple as his arms around her.

“A hug?” Nate repeats, his voice noticeably lower.

“Mmhmm.” She opens her arms, still balanced on her knees. “That's how you sign it. No take-backs.”

Nate takes another moment to collect himself before stepping closer. I know that look well enough to recognize what he's imagining, and judging by the way Elias has gone quiet beside me, I'm not the only one.