Chapter 21
Heathen
I swear it takes half an hour of me sitting in the hot tub, begging for relief, before I'm capable of getting my body under control after she sauntered away.
What started out as a way to tease her and get the upper hand left me feeling like a preteen that got a glimpse at the damn underwear advertised in a mall window.
I'm not so perverted that I'd bring myself to completion in the hot tub, although I thought about it and fought the idea a little longer than I should've.
Instead of going inside immediately, I sit in a lounger with a towel wrapped around my waist for another couple of minutes, so I can go inside and not have to go upstairs immediately. I don't know what would happen if I opened the bedroom door and saw her in the bed, or worse, found her in the shower.
My eyes cut toward the stairs to the second floor when I come up out of the basement, and I swear my cock jerks, urging me in that direction.
How in the world did my teasing her turn around to torture me?
Talk about an epic failure on my part.
The door to the conference room is wide open, and I glance inside, finding Rooster with his face lit by multiple computer screens.
"Playing online games?" I ask as I enter.
"Not really the type to play games," he mutters, not pulling his eyes from the screen. "I'm more interested in learning."
"What are you learning about today?" I ask, just to keep the conversation going because if I can engage with him, it'll be better than going upstairs and engaging with Kaylee.
"DimaTkachenko," he says without looking up.
"Really?" I ask, scooting in closer.
I grab the back of one of the rolling chairs near the conference room table and drag it toward his station, taking a seat and looking at the screen.
"Holy shit," I mutter. "Are you like some sort of savant?"
"I'm good with a computer," he says, as if there's nothing weird about the different windows popping up at a ridiculous speed, and then minimizing is completely normal.
"And you're reading all of that shit?" I ask, pointing to the three computer screens.
His fingers stop moving over the keyboard and his head turns slowly in my direction.
"What? No," he says, as if what I've asked is completely asinine. "The system is working through all the information. I have a program that breaks it down and categorizes it for me so I don't have to wade through all of the minutia."
"That makes more sense," I mutter.
"But I did write the program that does that for me, so I guess that's still awesome."
"Incredibly," I agree.
I'm not an idiot online, but I can't get you to the dark web or do much past a basic search with the use of a search engine. I don't really have the patience for any of it, and it makes me even more grateful that Kincaid saw fit to have Rooster here with us instead of us having to depend on one of the other guys. Not only would it delay response time, but I think it would also keep us from asking all the things we wanted to know in fear that we were bothering them with stuff we didn't need to ask them.
"Have you found out much more?"
"He's a very smart criminal," Rooster mutters. "I've found some minor violations, but nothing big enough yet for the SWAT team to raid his warehouse."
"I still can't believe he hasn't thrown up a red flag for how many times he's been listed as a witness to marriages."
"That's not exactly weird in Vegas," Rooster counters. "Think of all the chapels around town. They all have the same witnesses. That little chapel down on the strip has two employees who have been listed as witnesses to three times as many marriages as DimaTkachenko."
"That's insane."
"That's Vegas."
"I feel like we're pouring buckets of water on a forest fire," I confess.
"Doing nothing would be worse. Imagine how bad things would be if there weren't people like us. The lawlessness would be out of control."
"I guess that's true," I quickly agree.
If there was no threat of punishment for certain activities, and people knew they could operate with impunity, then society would be in utter chaos.
"I guess it's good that the criminal knows there might be someone out there watching."
He grunts a quick approval.
"Speaking of watching, I think I need to remind you that there are cameras in all of the common areas of the property."
I chew the inside of my cheek, knowing that he's referring to the hot tub.
"Okay," I say, fighting the urge to ask him for a copy of the video of what happened between Kaylee and me.
"I'll let you know if I find anything onTkachenko," he says, easily dismissing me.
I stand and roll the chair back to the conference table.
"Thanks, man," I say, before leaving the room.
I figuratively pat myself on the back as I climb the stairs for not actually asking for a copy of the video, but I know the question isn't completely off the table just yet.
I swear if I concentrate long and hard enough, I can still feel the warmth of her body against mine which was somehow warmer than the heat of the water.
I have to clear my throat twice in order to get myself under control before I get to my bedroom door, not having any clue what I'm going to be met with on the other side.
I pull in a deep breath before turning the handle, praying she's fast asleep so I can just grab a quick shower and get into bed without any further interaction.
I find that I'm not that lucky when I open the door and find her sitting on the bed with her phone in her hands.
She doesn't bother to look up from the screen as I enter and close the door behind me.
I grab some clothes from the dresser and head straight into the bathroom, feeling like an utter failure when it becomes impossible to be so close to her and not be able to touch her.
Guilt becomes a part of my anatomy as I run my hand down the length of my hardening cock, and I swear my face flames with disgrace when I get myself off at the memory of that two-second kiss.
I take as long as possible to dry off, feeling as if she knows exactly what I did in the bathroom.
The egotistical side of me wonders if she did the same when she came into the room.
I know she bathed. The shower floor was wet when I came in here.
I spend another five minutes just staring at my reflection because of what the idea of her using the same two fingers I was teasing her with does to my body.
The woman might possibly be the death of me. I don't know if someone can actually die from craving someone as much as I seem to crave her, but it feels like I can.
What started out as a way to get her away from Dima and that warehouse has turned into marriage to a woman I can't seem to resist and who apparently doesn't have the same level of struggle as I do.
I'm not supposed to like her. I'm not supposed to think about her in the way my head seems to with every waking minute.
I did what I did to protect her.
She's beautiful. I knew that the second I knocked over her display at the grocery store. I see beautiful women all the time, although I've never met one who sent such a rush of need up my back before.
I've let too many thoughts inside my head, and the most concerning one is that I'm not totally sure that I want the marriage annulled. As crazy as it sounds, even in my head, I don't see spending more time with her and getting to know her better as a problem. I don't know that we're star-crossed lovers or anything, but there is this twist in my gut when I think about parting ways with her. As a man who has always listened to his gut, I know that if she wanted to go to the courthouse tomorrow to sever this bond between us, I'd have to argue the point.
The air in the bathroom only seems to thicken despite the water being turned off for several minutes now, and it forces me out of the room.
The lights in the bedroom are now off, and I quickly turn the bathroom light off, half of me praying she doesn't roll toward me when I get into the bed and the other half wishing she would.
Kaylee doesn't move a muscle when I pull back the sheet and blanket on my side of the bed.
I swear all she'd have to do is run her foot up my calf and I'd break down and beg her for just an ounce of attention. As much as I want that, I also hate the fact that I do.
I've never been a man who needed anything from anyone. I guess it's one of those consequences of growing up in a family where you've always been a prop rather than loved the way a child should be. Now I just seem to be projecting my mommy and daddy issues, something I thought I came to terms with long ago.
I sigh in frustration and put my back to her, knowing just how impossible it'll be to actually fall asleep with her so close.
But then I focus on the sound of her even breathing and somehow it carries me right into dreamland.