Chapter 7
Notes:
Sorry this chapter is late. I messed with the bull and I got the horns.
Milo
“Wait.”
Two steps out of the bedroom, I turn around to find Rowan’s eyes open wide. He’s biting his lip. A coquettish little twink in a body larger than mine. Christ.
“What do you want, Rowan?”
“I didn’t mean to piss you off.”
“You didn’t. I just don’t like being manipulated.”
He’s still doing it. I know he is. To prove my point, I force myself to take another step out of the room.
“Sorry. I don’t really know how to do this.”
“Do what?”
“I don’t know.” He looks away. There’s a slight tremble to his chin.
A calculated play, or real emotion? “The thing is, I didn’t see it at the time, but my ex kind of made me into who he wanted me to be.
If I was his sweet boy, he showered me with praise.
Things I wanted. Otherwise, I got ignored.
He’d conveniently have to go away on business.
For months, sometimes. So yeah, I’ll admit it.
I got used to doing whatever I thought I had to do to get attention or whatever else I needed. ”
Rolling my eyes heavenward, I spend a calming few seconds tracking the swirling patterns on the ceiling. What am I going to do with this guy?
Rowan clears his throat. “So, if you just tell me what it is you want from me, I’ll do it. I can be it. Tell me what you want, Milo. Please.”
My chest caves in. Fuck. Fuck. Do not feel sorry for him, Milo, or you’ll be in trouble.
Except I already do, and I already am. I don’t know what kind of shit it takes to make a person think all they have to offer is their own body, but I know it isn’t good.
Pointing to the handcuff around his wrist, I say, “What I want is for you to stay the hell put until I can sort out this cluster of fucks.”
“I came with you voluntarily, didn’t I? You don’t need to keep me handcuffed. My wrists already hurt from before.”
He nods his head pointedly, drawing attention to the bandage I wrapped around his wrist after we showered. Together.
I hate myself for knowing he’s pulling my strings and for letting him do it anyway. I hate myself more for not thinking about his abused wrists when I cuffed him. Why do I want to rip my own fingernails out for hurting him with my carelessness?
When have someone else’s needs ever before been my priority? Jesus.
Muttering, I fish the key out of my pocket and let him loose. As soon as the metal clicks open, his hand grabs my hip.
“I wasn’t just saying that other stuff. What you did to me before, I liked it. I’d like to do more.”
“You don’t have to butter me up,” I growl. “I already let you out of the cuffs.”
For a second I could swear my rejection legitimately wounds him. But the hurt on his face is there and gone before I can analyze further, replaced by the same flirty heat from before.
Rowan’s tongue slides over his bottom lip again. “Can’t I say thank you? I really want to.”
“Is fucking your answer for everything? Someone saves your life? Fucking. You need to apologize? Fucking.”
He blinks. “Someone places their trust in me by unlocking the handcuffs and then agrees to get food for Iggy, yeah, this is how I say thank you.”
“When did I agree to get food for Iggy?” In spite of my protest here I am swiping his hair from his forehead and trailing my fingers down the side of his stubbled jaw.
“You’re about to.” The flirty grin is back.
I roll my eyes. “I was going to do it anyway. Last thing I have time for is your boohooing if the lizard dies.” Not like this situation is the damn reptile’s fault, anyway.
He shifts but then hisses in pain. A few spots of blood have broken through the fabric of his shirt.
“Shit. Stay here.” In the bathroom, under the sink, I find a surprisingly well stocked first aid kit and bring it in. “Let’s swap out your bandages. We need to make sure it stays clean.”
He grunts with displeasure but complies when I push his shirt up to get it off him and lies still while I get a look.
“Less blood. That’s good.”
“Hmm.” He seems to be looking at me more than worrying about the wound. “Whatever you say, Milo.”
Why does that sentence feel like fingers caressing my balls? “I heard redheads feel more pain than other people. That true?”
One shoulder twitches. “I’ve heard more. I’ve heard less. Not like I have anything to compare it to.”
Now it’s my turn to “hmm” quietly, avoiding his intense gaze so I can focus on disinfecting, spreading ointment, and re-dressing the wound. It’s easier than facing the way he’s looking at me, with a mix of curiosity and desire I’m trying to pretend doesn’t match my own.
It’s not like I think we can’t enjoy some good old-fashioned no-strings fucking. What we did back at his place felt good, and I’m not so high and mighty that I don’t want more. Obviously, I want more.
But for me? Detachment is a necessary part of what I do.
Not getting too close to anyone, not even my handler.
And there’s something about those wide, too-innocent eyes that sets off a blaring alarm in my head.
They’d be easy to fall into, and I’m fairly certain they’re also a trap. No, I know they are.
Besides, Rowan’s sudden baring of his soul? I’m not buying it.
As if to reinforce my suspicions, the second I smooth the last piece of medical tape over the bandage, he reaches for me. My breath stutters as his fingers creep under the hem of my shirt, as they trail over my abs, dipping down to fumble with the button of my pants.
“What are you doing?”
“Like I said. Saying thank you.” Damned if he isn’t fluttering those lashes like he has an eye condition.
My insides hollow out with the force of my breath. “You already did that. Literally.”
There’s a gleam in his eyes when he says, “Then I guess this part is for fun.” He smiles then.
“Come on, Milo. I don’t know about you, but it’s been a long time since I’ve had any fun.
I get fucked by men who don’t give a shit about my feelings.
You kill people for a living. Couldn’t you use some fun? ”
“That doesn’t matter.” The muscles in my jaw burn from the force of shutting my damn mouth, because I’m supposed to be in charge here and this is not a negotiation.
But I suppress a shiver. What I do, it’s about money and satisfaction.
Righting wrongs too, I guess. It’s about the way my accidental first kill resulted in tears and hugs of gratitude so hard I almost choked, and then a quiet comment that she had a friend whose husband might kill her one day, and then…
The point is, I’ve been doing something important. I’ve been helping people and honing my craft, because an inexperienced killer doesn’t live long.
I’ve gotten good at what I do. I give people their lives back. But fun?
No, I can’t remember when I last had fun. And when Rowan catches his bottom lip between his teeth and pushes his sweats down his hips, I can’t remember why I was so adamant about keeping my hands off him, either.
Before I’ve had a chance to think it through, my shirt is over my head and on the floor. My pants get shucked off with all the attitude of a guy who’s about to get laid and is both excited about it and mad as hell.
“Woah. You wear lacy boxers?”
Hooking my thumbs in the boxers in question, I pause. “What, because I kill people, I’m not allowed to feel pretty? Fuck you. Anyway, you saw me take my clothes off at your place.”
“To be fair, it wasn’t my most observant moment. I was in a strange place because some guy almost fucking killed me. You almost fuckin’ killed me. Remember?”
“Hey now. No need to beat a dead horse. I saved your ass. Remember a few minutes ago when you were all, ‘Milo, thank you so much for saving me, you’re my hero’?” I’m saying that last part with a high-pitched damsel in distress type of voice, which, if you ask me, is hilarious.
But Rowan seems unamused. “You trying to make my dick go soft?”
“I don’t see any danger from where I’m standing.” No, siree. That thing is long, thick, and standing proud amid its neatly trimmed ginger bush. Not to mention the way it’s blushing like a virgin Mafia princess on her wedding night.
I don’t bottom often, but if I’m going to cave on my morals, I’m sure as hell riding that rocket into the sunset. My insides are goddamn quivering at the prospect of getting thoroughly rearranged. I’ve got saliva pooling in my mouth for fuck’s sake.
“Fuck you.” Rowan rolls his eyes. “Lose the lacy shorts and get over here.”
I tease the waistband with my fingers. “Sure you want me to do that? Seems like you like them. Your eyes are all dark and you’re drooling a little.”
He’s not really drooling, but do I feel more satisfaction than I should when he swipes the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand? You bet my sweet, lacy ass I do.
He makes a very manly grunting sound. “They look hot. They’d look better on the floor.”
Well, fuck. That’s the cheesiest line I’ve ever heard, yet here I am shoving my favorite red lace shorts to the floor.
In another second I’m on the bed, gripping his sweats and pulling them the rest of the way down, hating us both a little for being weak-willed, horny idiots.
Mostly. The blood rushing in my ears and the slight chill in the air that makes my nipples hard is doing a lot to overpower the self-loathing.
Once I’ve got him naked, I crawl across to open the drawer of the bedside table, pleased to find lube and condoms.
Rowan’s forehead creases. “How’d you know that would be in there?”
“According to Jalen, this is less a safe house and more your boss’s favorite fuck pad. Had a feeling.”
Rowan chuckles, but then his face turns back to serious. “I meant what I said earlier. You can say I’m trying to get something from you, but the truth is I want you. It’s been a long time since I’ve been with someone because I really wanted to be.”
Not one to shy away from saying uncomfortable things, I’ve got the condom open and rolled down his dick before I remind us both of one important thing. “You know, there’s still a chance I’ll have to kill you later.”