Chapter 10
Koby
“Koby,” Carter denotes, his agitation slicing through my daydream. “Focus.”
“I am focused.” On Leilani...
“You’ve been staring at the wall for ten minutes. I need your head in the game. Go through your contacts, find out who’s close to Octavius. I want his allies, I want his enemies, I want a list of people who work for him and how we can use them.”
“Sure.” I pull out my phone, taking notes. “No problem.”
“Good. The sooner we have it, the sooner Ryder can start digging and bugging.”
I crack my neck, forcing my ears to concentrate on the conversation happening around me. I should listen. I know I should, but it’s damn near impossible while my mind keeps drifting back to Leilani.
She didn’t tell me anything more about Anton. She cut the conversation short with he did far worse and not long later, she turned in for the night.
I barely slept, my brain circling her last words—he did far worse—like vultures over a carcass.
When the alarm finally went off at the crack of dawn, I dragged myself out of bed, going through the morning motions like a zombie.
The moment I stepped into the kitchen and found Leilani already up, my world fucking stopped.
Small bare feet on the tiles. Smooth legs, pale against the hem of a top so short it barely brushed her thighs. No bra. Her nipples pressing against the thin fabric like they had a personal vendetta against my self-control.
She stood, hair in a messy halo, with her back to me, humming softly while the coffee machine sputtered to life.
I loved the sleepy look when she caught me watching her. I loved the little curve of her mouth when she tried not to smile. And I loved how soft and unguarded she looked.
No wonder I can’t focus on anything. My head’s full of possibilities, full of inappropriate questions, too, because I swear she dropped her spoon on fucking purpose.
I leaned in the doorway, starving, greedy, wanting to devour the sight of her. The spoon clinked against the floor, bouncing once before skidding under the counter, and when she bent over, pink cotton stretched tight across the perfect curve of her ass.
Plain, simple, and yet so fucking obscene.
My throat went dry. My cock twitched, hardening against the seam of my sweats. I should’ve looked away. Instead, I imagined dragging her back by the hips and pinning her against the counter. I imagined my hands framing that ass, squeezing until my fingerprints branded her.
Fuck, I’ll never be the same.
“Koby.”
I blink, Carter’s office coming into focus. He’s staring. They’re all staring. My boss with that pissed-off older-brother look, Ryder like he’s about to throw his pen at my head, and Broadway with a hyena-style grin. Even the fucking potted Ficus in the corner is judging me.
“Fuck, sorry. I’m trying.”
“You’re failing,” Carter deadpans. “I guess Leilani’s why your head’s not in this meeting?”
“Leilani in a teeny-tiny top and no bra is the reason my head’s not anywhere right now.” I groan, pinching the bridge of my nose. “She made me coffee and I got hard.”
“You poor thing,” Broadway drawls. “If only there was a simple way to fix blue balls...”
“I’ll shoot you in the knee.”
He chuckles, accidentally-on-purpose patting the sore spot Leilani’s fist left on my cheek. “One hit and she owns your ass.”
“It wasn’t one hit. She clocked me multiple times. And kneed my blue balls. And clawed my face. Pretty sure she tried to take a bite out of me, too.”
“Was it the kneeing part, or the scratching part that made you fall for her?”
“Yes, both, neither. Fuck.” I squeeze the back of my neck. “She told me about Anton last night. Not much, just enough to drive me fucking crazy, and now I can’t stop turning it over in my head.”
Broadway’s smirk falters, his expression hardening. He’s serious now. Fucking murderous. “Did he—”
“No.” I cut him off before he says the word neither of us wants spoken aloud. Since Violet, rape sticks in his throat anyway. “No, he didn’t... but she said he did far worse, and I can’t figure out what the hell that means.”
Ryder leans back, face tight. “Maybe he has some disturbing preferences. I’ll see what I can find out.”
“Thanks. I wanted to wait for her to open up and tell me the rest, but then she said—” I shudder, recalling the cold hands that gripped my throat at her confession. “She said she regretted choosing life when Anton forced her to pick that or death.”
That shuts them up. For a beat, the only sound is the low hum of Ryder’s laptop. Broadway’s face darkens and Carter looks ready to smash something.
“Fucking fine.” He flips his wrist. “Go home. Sounds like she might need some company. We’ll pick this up tomorrow.”
Ryder snaps his laptop closed when I’m already halfway across the room, one task in mind: get my girl a burger.
***
My foot taps against the tiled floor of a greasy fast-food joint.
They’re taking too long.
Or maybe my patience is gone after a day of walking around with a semi-hard dick, haunted by the image of Leilani licking sauce off her fingers.
The mouthwatering smell of grilled meat and spices doesn’t help, reminding me I forgot to eat all day while daydreaming about Leilani.
Twenty minutes later, I unlock my apartment, anticipation and excitement taking center stage.
“Hey!” I call out, closing the door behind me.
No response, other than the low hum of the vacuum cleaner. I round the corner, halting mid-step, my pulse kicking up.
Leilani’s on all fours, ass high, shoulders and head buried under the couch. Her leggings stretch indecently over her curves, outlining everything I shouldn’t be staring at.
Goddamn it. I saw a movie just like this. Though, if memory serves, the girl was stuck head-first in a washing machine, not under the couch.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I mutter, grinding my teeth. “Leilani!”
She startles, head hitting the underside of the couch before she backs out slowly, powering off the vacuum with a click. There’s dust in her hair and a bright smile on her lips. I guess she doesn’t realize how fucking pornographic she looks on her knees.
“Hey! I found this.” She waves a crumpled receipt. “Do you need it?”
“What are you doing?”
“Oh, I’m knitting, can’t you tell?” She stands, dusting off her oversized sweater. “I’m cleaning, Mr. Maddox. There were three dead bugs there, too.”
“Why are you cleaning? You’re my guest, not my maid.”
“Do you think I’m doing a bad job...?” She crosses her arms, chin tipping up with that stubborn spark I absolutely adore.
“What? No.”
“Because I wasn’t allowed to do anything for years, Koby, so you better not take this away from me or we’ll have a problem.”
I’m easily a foot taller than her, trained to break men without breaking a sweat, and somehow, I think she could end me.
My cock twitches at the thought.
“Okay, you win.” I present the takeout bag like a peace offering. “I’ve got the heart attack you ordered. Double the meat, triple the cheese, and enough sauce to paint the kitchen.”
Her face lights up, annoyance dissolving into gleeful softness. She jumps forward, flinging her arms around my neck, her little body pressing against mine.
“You remembered!”
The hug lasts mere seconds, but ruins me all the same. Her hair tickles my jaw, her breasts press against my chest, and fuck if that’s not the highlight of my year.
“Of course I did.”
My brain short-circuits when she stamps a chaste kiss on my cheek. Before I can recover, she tears the bag out of my hand, heading for the kitchen.
I’m slower to follow, another unwanted fantasy forming. I want to chase her. Slam her against the counter so I can feel her mouth on mine. My brain replays that featherlight peck in a loop, exaggerating and stretching it into something deeper, wetter, something it wasn’t.
“I’ve been thinking about this all day!” she sing-songs.
Why not about me?
I join her in the kitchen, taking the opposite stool. “Dig in.” I unwrap my burger... and I almost fucking drop it at the deep, guttural moan accompanying Leilani’s first bite.
All the blood in my system rushes south. I’m hard as a fucking rock, watching her mouth work over bread, meat, and cheese like it’s my cock.
Is this my life from now on? Forever strutting about my days with a hard-on?
Nice...
“It’s delicious,” she breathes, eyes half-closed.
Sauce leaks down her hands, a mix of mayo, ketchup, and some house specialty. Her tongue peeks out, dragging over her wrist, palm, fingers, and...
Fuck me sideways, I want to be a condiment.
If I stuck my cock in a jar of mayo, would she—
No. That’d be weird.
Yeah, it would be. Although—
No, definitely weird.
I think my mother should’ve had me tested. I can’t even see the sauce anymore. Just Leilani’s mouth. Her tongue...
“Almost three years since I had a burger.” She wipes a speck of mayo from the corner of her mouth and languorously sucks her thumb clean, unaware of the effect it’s having on me. “Anton was very strict. You have no idea how amazing it tastes after so long.”
I bite into a fry to halt my question, but as soon as I swallow, it rolls off my tongue anyway. “Was he only strict about food?”
“No,” she hums around another bite, bliss painting her features. “About everything. What I wore, ate, read, watched, said—” She stops abruptly, her cheeks running red. “Ten points for catching me off guard.”
My fingers bury themselves deep into the bun. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.”
“You did. And I get it. It’s not like Anton’s behavior is a secret. Octavius, Blaze, Jax, and countless soldiers know exactly what his preferences are.” She sets her burger down. “I’ll tell you everything. I promise. You risked a lot when you helped me. You deserve—”
“You don’t owe me anything, hellcat. I’m not asking because I’m curious. I’m asking because I want to help, but you don’t have to tell me if you’re not ready.”