When they entered the elevator in his building, he hit the button for the seventeenth floor. He'd neglected to mention that he lived in the penthouse.
The apartment had wide, open rooms, large windows, a huge balcony, and luxury kitchen. She peeked at the view then backed away from the window. "It's private up here."
"Liam and I like it. We picked up Dom's lease when he moved out. Our old place was like a shoe box, way too small and cramped. This is better."
"Better is an understatement. This is gorgeous, and big enough to fit your whole team."
"It has, on occasion." He shrugged. "I spent enough time being lonely while I was growing up, so yeah, I like having people around."
"Did your parents work a lot?"
"Do you want a drink?" He strode to the bar and took out a bottle of scotch and two glasses.
Savanna slowly approached him. She didn't care for scotch, but his tight movements and uneasy expression suggested she'd struck a nerve with her question. "We don't have to talk about something if you don't want to. It isn't easy for me to talk about losing my sister or how my parents handled it at the time, so I understand. I really do."
He set the bottle aside. The sympathy in his gaze caused a lump to rise in her throat. "I didn't know you'd lost your sister."
There was a hollowness in her heart, a space that swelled and ached whenever she thought of Molly. "My sister was diagnosed with a rare blood cancer when she was seven years old and I was eleven. She battled it for three stressful and sad and chaotic years. After she died, my parents were like ghosts of their former selves. I was dealing with losing my best friend and so angry that we hadn't been able to save her or to at least take her to see a Broadway show in New York like she always wanted to do. But the medical bills were piling up and she died before my parents were able to make that wish come true."
"That's why you work as a wish granter."
"I was too young then to help her before she passed. But I can help other kids and make sure they get their wishes."
"You're amazing." Slade slid his arm around her and drew her against his side.
"No. I'm not." She leaned into him, absorbing his strength, and more than ready to turn the topic of conversation back to him. "Do you have any brothers or sisters?"
"Well..." His other hand moved restlessly up and down her forearm. "I just found my half-sister. Met her for the first time last night."
"Wow." She couldn't imagine Slade never having met his own sister.
"Yeah." He sighed and returned to pouring the alcohol. "I was adopted as a baby. My adoptive mom died when I was six, and then I went to live with her aunt who was in her fifties and didn't want to raise a kid at that point, so she was pretty hands-off. Didn't care what I did as long as it didn't cause problems for her."
"I'm sorry." She longed to reach out to him but couldn't tell if a touch would be welcomed. Finally, the questions she'd been too hesitant to ask were being answered.
He turned the glass around and around, studying the contents. "Even back then, I loved baseball. All that time alone left me with plenty of hours to study the game and work on my swing."
"Still, she must be proud of your accomplishments. Does she ever come to your games?"
"She passed away when I was in my first season of minor league ball. I wouldn't say she was proud. My mom had left a lot of money, so as long as her aunt took care of me, she received a monthly allowance. I'd grown up living in her house, but didn't feel like I was actually living with her, if that makes sense."
"I'm so sorry." How awful. Her heart ached for the lonely little boy and the man who still carried around the scars.
"I survived."
Surviving wasn't the same thing as growing up in a house filled with love. As smothering as her parents had been with their rules after Molly had died, they'd been equally as giving with their time and attention.
He downed the scotch and then pulled himself another glass. "I did one of those genetic swab tests. Found my half-sister, which led to my birth parents. I haven't met them yet."
"I'm sure they're going to love you."
His lips pinched together and for a moment, his eyes filled with a lost hopelessness that pushed her to move. She curled her fingers around his, willing reassurance and comfort to flow into him. He blinked and stared at her untouched glass like he was seeing it for the first time. "You're not drinking. You don't like scotch, do you? I'm sorry."
Touching his hand wasn't enough. His kiss had distracted her in the hot air balloon. Returning the favor would be her pleasure. She slid her hand to the back of his neck and gently guided his head until his lips reached hers. They were soft and open, receptive and responsive. Savanna slanted her head and deepened the kiss, teasing her tongue along his lower lip until he spun her with a groan and pressed her back against the bar.
His hands clamped and flexed on her waist and his tongue played with hers in slow licks and lazy caresses. She clung to his shoulders, then ran her hands down his biceps and up over his neck. Muscles tensed and shifted under her hands as she pulled him closer.
The front door banged open and then closed. "Slade?"
At Liam's call, Slade eased back. "In here, Li."
Savanna brushed at
