19. Chapter 19
Mal
“S hit, he’s going to kill me. On a scale of one to ten, how bad is this?”
The kittens, of course, don’t respond. Which is good. I have enough problems on my plate without adding delusions to the mix.
The one with gray fur mewls pitifully, and I pick it up, petting along its spindly spine.
Its black-furred companion is quiet inside the dirty, cardboard box I found them in.
Honestly, it was pure luck I discovered them at all, left alone as they were in an alley behind the homeopathic store a few blocks away.
I only meant to pick up some more essential oils.
Instead, I picked up a pair of bedraggled kittens.
Henrik really is going to kill me.
Cats weren’t against the rules specifically, but tidiness is a big deal. And cats aren’t exactly…compliant. They’ll need a litter box, toys, food and water dishes.
Not that they’ll stay , of course. I just need to keep them here for a night. In the morning, once Catty Commotions opens, I can take them there.
Even though Little Gray is staring up at me like I’m the best thing in the world, the little bundle purring loudly in my palm.
My heart clenches, and I pick up its brother or sister, making sure to give the black-furred kitten the same attention.
Just because that one is quiet, that doesn’t mean he or she doesn’t want some cuddles, too.
“I’m sure it’ll be fine. It’s just for a night.”
“What’s for a night?”
I startle, looking over at Henrik in the doorway of the guest room.
He’s still dressed in the suit he wore to work this morning, the pinstripe gray making him look sexy in that clean-cut way he has about him.
The slight hint of silver in his hair adds to the overall appeal.
His face is shaved, but a hint of shadow graces his jawline, and even though, as I watch, his lips turn down into a frown, I can’t help the bolt of lust that hits me square in the gut.
Why do I always want this man?
“Mal?” Henrik asks, taking a tentative step inside the room. “What is that sound?”
Oh, God. I look down at the kittens in my arms. “About that…”
Henrik straightens, eyes wide. “That’s a cat.”
“Two cats. Kittens, technically.”
“Mal—”
“I know . I’m sorry,” I tell him, standing up with the pair held close to my chest. “I found them outside, and I couldn’t just leave them there without food or shelter.
They’re so skinny, Hen. They haven’t been taken care of, and someone clearly abandoned them.
I’ll bring them to the shelter in the morning, I promise.
I just…I couldn’t leave them all alone.”
Henrik frowns again, but then his face smooths out. He takes another step forward, and shuffling the kittens around, I reach out, brushing his forearm and drawing him near. Henrik follows my arm to the kittens, his hands looking massive as he gingerly runs them over the raggedy bundles of fur.
“They’re skin and bones,” he says.
“Yeah.”
Little Gray rubs eagerly against Henrik’s hand, and his face pinches. “We don’t have any food for them.”
“Well, no, but—”
Henrik reaches into his pocket, and I gape as he voice-directs his phone to call his personal assistant, his free hand suspended over the kittens as they use him like their own personal scratching post. “Benjamin, we need cat food. Yes, cat food.” He holds the phone away from his face. “What kind of cat food?”
“Um.” My heart thrashes around wildly inside my ribcage. “They’re old enough for solid food. Anything made for kittens would be fine.”
Henrik nods. “Solid food for kittens. Yes. And bowls. Litter pan?” he asks me.
I mumble an affirmative. “Litter, too. Mhm. Oh shut up, Benjamin. Yes, grab a couple toys.” He sighs.
“You and Gary can have a good laugh about this later, after you’ve delivered the necessary essentials.
” With that, he hangs up. “Such a smartass,” he grumbles, sliding his phone into his pocket.
“Benjamin should be here within the hour. Will they be okay until then?”
I open my mouth to say of course , but nothing comes out. Instead, with my insides fizzing, I lurch forward, my fingers threading through the short strands at the back of Henrik’s head as I clasp our mouths together.
I kiss him without thought, without restraint, just wanting— needing —to show him my appreciation. Needing him to understand how much it means to me that he didn’t bat an eye at the inconvenience to his home, instead jumping straight into problem-solving mode. Into caretaker mode.
Needing him to understand how light he makes me feel. Like in his presence, I could simply float away, untethered from all the worries that root me to the ground.
Needing him to know how happy he makes me. How free.
And for a moment, I am. I’m gliding in an endless plane of sparkling white, my heart in my throat, my toes barely touching the ground.
And then Henrik makes a surprised sound, going rigid against me, and I realize my mistake.
Henrik has never, not once, kissed me. And like a cold slap in the face, I remember why.
Because I’m his escort. His sugar baby . I’m here for sex, not intimacy. Not whatever this is.
I draw back, utterly humiliated, about to apologize or brush off my actions or—I don’t know—offer to pack my things.
But Henrik says, “Mal,” and then he’s the one pressing forward and slotting our mouths together in a gently rolling bang.
His lips, this time, are soft and yielding, and he kisses me back like he means it.
Like he wants to inhale me. My pulse trips, tumbling before racing ahead, urging me closer to this man who makes me fall apart, who holds me together with the simplest touch of his hands.
One rests tensely against the small of my back, and the other wraps in my hair as Henrik inhales sharply, breaking the connection between our lips for a moment before surging forward again, coaxing me open.
I’m not proud of the whimper that breaks free, but Henrik swallows it down, asking for more, demanding it.
He’d be pressed against my body if it weren’t for the two kittens in my arm, I’m sure of it.
As is, we’re both angled not to squish the felines, and I wish I could set them down and get closer, climb into this man who owns my breath, but I can’t bear to pull back for even a moment.
And Henrik seems to feel the same. He backs me up until I hit the bed, and ever so gently, he plucks the kittens from my hold, placing them on the comforter.
“Will they be okay?” he asks, barely shifting from my mouth long enough to get the words out.
I nod against him, falling backwards as Henrik climbs over me, hands and knees on either side of my body.
The kittens wander the bed, one batting at my hair.
But I focus on Henrik, who glides carefully down to his elbows, bringing his body against mine.
We both groan as we fit together from chest to groin, but Henrik leans to the side as soon as I try to wriggle my leg free.
I wrap it around his hip instead, driving up against him, bringing us closer.
His mouth never leaves mine, his tongue relentlessly tangling with my own, and even with one of the kittens hopping atop his back, Henrik never wavers.
Why haven’t we kissed before?
Why haven’t we done this a million times? It’s the best thing ever. It’s joyful and wicked and sensual all in one. It’s—
Henrik’s ringtone pierces the air, and with a muttered curse, he draws back.
We’re both breathing heavily, suspended a half foot apart, and even though I know Henrik can’t see me, it feels like he can.
It’s in the way he’s focused on me. How he doesn’t move for the longest moment, his cheeks flushed and his brown hair in disarray.
I want that. I want it to be true, what I’m seeing on his face. I want to believe he truly sees me .
He stalls, inching forward as if he wants to continue exploring my esophagus, but then his phone begins ringing a second time, and he pulls it from his pocket, bracing himself awkwardly, as if he aborted sitting up all the way.
Realizing why—one cat is still dangling from his back—I laugh and help to pluck it free.
Henrik’s mouth tips into a smile as he plants himself beside me, having patted the bed first to make sure it was clear.
“Hello?” he asks briskly, brushing his hair off his forehead.
I watch the way his chest rises and falls, mirroring my own, and eye the neglected bulge inside his suit pants.
Me, too, buddy. Me, too. “I…I don’t know.
Does it matter?” He huffs. “Go with the grain-free. If it’s more expensive, it must be better.
” I smile, chest warm. “Yes. That’s fine. Bye.”
Henrik blows out a breath, and when he turns my way, I reach over, tangling our hands together atop the mattress. He gives me a responding squeeze.
“He’ll be here soon,” Henrik says needlessly.
“Okay,” I answer with a nod. After a moment, I let Henrik’s hand go and push myself off the bed. My body is still tingling, still firing, but I shake it off. “I should give them a bath.”
Henrik looks perplexed. “I thought cats hated water.”
Chuckling, I pluck Little Gray off the comforter. “Some do, but they’re filthy.” I pause, eyes trailing over Henrik’s suit. “You could give me a hand.”
His brow wings up. I expect him to laugh, to beg me off, but he holds his hand out instead. “If I get covered in scratches, I’m blaming you.”
I smile widely, handing the kitten over and grabbing the other. “I’ll kiss them better.”
Henrik hums, his lips curling in a smile. “I’ll hold you to that.”
“Oh, Henrik. Kittens? This is precious.”
I pause in the hallway, seeing only Henrik’s side as he talks to Benji. He’s shed his suit jacket, and the sleeves of his shirt are rolled up to his elbows. His pants are spotted with moisture and covered in cat hair, but he doesn’t seem to mind.