Chapter 9
MALCOLM
Everything about the last half an hour surprised me.
We didn’t get in a car to go to Kairo’s apartment; we walked.
In the opposite direction from where I’d been staying.
The building is run-down from the outside.
Brick crumbling, concrete cracked, many windows clearly new, and in contrast to the majority.
The front door is brand new as well. Shiny and secure, needing a key to open it.
The door itself is heavy, the glass spidered with reinforcement between its sheets.
I’m surprised when we step into the lobby to find it cobbled together with new tiles mixed among old patches in the walls, modern lighting in a cracked ceiling, a brand-new bank of apartment mailboxes, and the entire place decorated for a child’s birthday.
The elevator is likewise decorated when the doors open.
I’m amused when we step inside, and Kairo fixes one of the streamers that’s come loose.
When he feels me watching him, he presses his lips tightly together.
Wordlessly, we climb to the fifteenth floor—not the top—and exit into an undecorated hall.
Much like the lobby, there’s a mix of old and new, where damage was repaired, but no attempt was made to blend the two materials.
Now that I’m looking at a second space, it appears that the lighting fixtures, outlets, and light switches are all new.
Suggesting that the electrical was updated, maybe?
Kairo lets us into an apartment at the end of the hall, and… it’s nothing like the space I imagined a Van Doren living. Under the newer, modern furniture is an old, rundown apartment. The kitchen is no better, save for a new stove and fridge. There’s no dishwasher. The sink is old and dingy.
He watches me warily as I look around. His shoulders remain tense, waiting for my comments, but I don’t say anything.
Kairo releases a breath, and I follow him to the kitchen, sitting at a small table that I barely fit at while he opens the fridge.
I spy a whole lot of food containers stacked like bricks, filling the fridge.
Okay, I can’t keep my questions bottled up anymore. “That’s a lot of food.”
He sighs as he takes out one of the containers.
“There’s a mother and her young daughter who live in the building that I take care of in the most conspicuously inconspicuous way she’ll allow me.
Mostly, I spoil the daughter.” His eyes flicker to mine for a second.
“It’s her eighth birthday today. The mother won’t let me help more than I do, so I make sure they always have food, pretending that I cook far too much for myself to eat.
That way, she spends her money on other things while I take care of as many of her basic necessities as I can. ”
“You decorated the lobby and elevator,” I guess.
Refusing to look at me as he brings the contents of the food container to the stove, he nods jerkily. “Yes.”
“That’s really sweet of you.”
My comment makes his shoulders tense again, though I’m not sure why. He hasn’t been an asshole in quite a while, and I’m not excited to see that side of him again, so I change the subject. “I realize this is entirely judgmental, but this isn’t where I imagined you’d live.”
“Because it appears poor?” he asks.
“Yes,” I answer honestly.
He doesn’t speak as he reheats the contents of the container in a pan, the spices filling the air and making my stomach growl. I watch him, something he likely doesn’t miss. Still, he doesn’t speak as he finishes heating the food and splitting it between two plates.
We sit at the tiny table together. The food is good. Kairo’s eyes remain trained on his plate while I watch him.
Eventually, he sighs and meets my eyes briefly before speaking.
“My face isn’t well known. Jalon did that intentionally—hiding his brothers from the spotlight so we weren’t raised with cameras flashing in our faces.
Everyone knows I exist, of course. I’m easily found online if someone’s looking to see what Kairo Van Doren looks like.
But the people around here… they’re not interested in who I am or the money I have.
All they want is to be safe and survive.
Most are hardworking and don’t want handouts.
They want to work for a living. They want to be successful.
When I met Maria and Lucy—the family I try to take care of as much as Maria will allow—she didn’t want me to put her up in a hotel or hand her a job.
She just wanted a stepladder so she could help herself.
I bought this building, made it safe, and dropped the rent to something far cheaper than anything else in this city.
I have very strict parameters for those we allow to move in.
I’m not providing free services to those who don’t want to help themselves.
I’m looking for people like Maria who need help but want to make it on their own.
I quickly filled up this building, so I bought two more.
Because I bought these buildings outright and don’t need the money, I have the freedom to charge whatever I want.
Carlotta keeps strict records on who pays what and when they move out—able to move up in life—I refund them half of what they’ve paid in rent so they have a leg up.
Also… I don’t deal with any of them at all.
None of them know I own the buildings. Not even Maria, so… ”
“I’ll keep your secret,” I say, grinning. His family has Kairo pegged all wrong. Entirely wrong. They don’t know him at all.
Kairo scowls, bowing his head further. As soon as I take the last bite of food from my plate, he’s on his feet and washing the dishes by hand. He has the entire kitchen cleaned up before I can truly think about trying to help him.
If I had to take a guess, the kind of people Kairo looks for are those he sees himself in. He doesn’t accept handouts. He doesn’t accept kindness. He would rather do it himself without telling anyone what he’s doing. I’m positive Jalon doesn’t know about this project of his.
Several minutes pass before he turns to face me, though his eyes don’t meet mine. I get to my feet and close the space between us. Without touching him, I wait until he looks up and meets my eyes. His expression is closed off as he looks at me.
“You’re amazing,” I say quietly and watch as his cheeks flush.
His lips press harder together, and I smile as I touch the side of his face, brushing my fingers across his cheek.
“I get the feeling you don’t see yourself like I do.
The more you let me learn about you, the more you take my breath away. ”
Kairo’s breath catches, eyes widening slightly. I kiss him softly and then sweep him up into my arms, wrapping his legs around my waist. He swallows a choked yelp, which makes his face redden and eyes narrow on me as he grips my shoulders.
“Where’s your bathroom, baby girl?”
Those rosy cheeks remain pink as he points down the short hall.
Once again, I’m shocked as I step into the bathroom because it’s fucking new.
Every fixture. Every feature. I stare in surprise, and Kairo huffs.
“The bathrooms in this place were disgusting,” he mutters.
“I paid a shit ton to have them sterilized so I know they’re clean and safe and whatever, but…
I couldn’t bring myself to use the bathroom, so I had it gutted,” he admits.
Grinning, I squeeze his ass under my hands before setting him on his feet.
He doesn’t meet my eyes again, though that pretty blush is still lighting his cheeks.
I don’t comment on the bathroom. I leave him where I set him on the floor and go through his bathroom, looking for bath items: a washcloth, big fluffy towels.
I’m a little surprised that he has bath stuff. Something he looks embarrassed about.
While I run the bath, I strip Kairo slowly and touch him everywhere. Softly. Reverently. His breathing becomes more and more stuttered as I do. When I look into his face, his eyes are shiny. He has his bottom lip between his teeth as he struggles to catch his breath.
As I slip his socks off, I think that this man isn’t used to having this kind of attention on him. He doesn’t expose himself to people often. Maybe ever. He’s not used to being seen beyond the angry facade he puts out to the world.
“Into the tub,” I instruct as I lead him over.
He glances at me as he lowers himself into the steaming water. “You’re not getting in,” Kairo comments.
Using one of the towels I pulled from the closet, I kneel beside the tub. “Nope. This isn’t about me. It’s about you.”
Kairo turns his face away. I roll up my sleeves and reach for the washcloth. He watches me from the corner of his eyes as I soap it up and begin running it over his exposed skin. Slowly. Softly. Ensuring that I don’t miss a single inch.
It takes Kairo several minutes to relax into my touch. I don’t go under the water yet. Instead, I switch to washing his hair. Massaging his scalp. His muscles release the tension he’s holding, and I grin as he tries to swallow the soft sighs he releases.
I take my time with his hair. Then his face, his neck.
Once more, I go over his exposed skin before dropping my hand under the water to wash his stomach and legs.
His hard dick brushes against my wrist often, but I don’t touch him there.
Not yet. This isn’t about sexual touch, although I will absolutely make sure he gets off.
Still. This is about making Kairo feel good.
“Malcolm,” he whispers.
I wait until he looks at me before I answer. “Yes, baby?”
His cheeks are still red. I don’t think that pretty spattering of blush is going to fade today, and I’m happy about that.
“Touch my dick?” he whispers. “Finger me?” The second request is choked. I have a feeling this is what he actually wants, but he’s afraid or maybe ashamed to ask for it.
With the hand not in the water, I grip the back of his head and bring his mouth to mine and kiss him until he’s breathless.
“What a good boy, telling me what you want,” I murmur, feeling the way he shivers under my touch.
Kairo swallows and then catches his breath sharply as I drop my hand to wrap around his cock.
I stroke him for just a minute before sliding my fingers over his balls, pressing against his taint, and then sliding further until I reach his pretty hole.
It’s not easy to lube him in a tub of water.
I use the water as best I can to ease some of the friction, being extra slow and super gentle. I use soap to ease my way in.
The way Kairo lets his head fall back, his hands gripping the sides of the tub as he bears down on my fingers, has me suggesting to him to get out, and I’ll take care of him properly. My eyes are glued to his face as he, bit by bit, lets himself give in to the pleasure he asked for.
I’m surprised when he asks for another finger when I already have three in him. I try to bring more soap underwater to accommodate his request. Kairo’s head drops onto my arm, and he uses his grip on the tub to ride my fingers.
Heat flares like a bonfire inside me, rising into the sky to touch the stars. I let him do as he pleases, curling my fingers every other thrust to make sure I’m touching his prostate. Feeding his need.
“Malcolm,” he whines.
“Tell me what you want, baby.”
His eyes open, and he looks straight into mine. “Fuck me.”