19. Chapter 19 #2
I have to admit, the Henrik I’ve seen a side of tonight is worlds away from the man I thought he was when we first met. I never would’ve envisioned that neat and tidy businessman helping to bathe two rowdy kittens without a single complaint. Maybe even enjoying it.
And yet, despite the fact that the pair of felines were not tolerant of the water, as Henrik correctly predicted, he patiently helped me clean them off: holding them while I lathered and smiling when the little bundles calmed.
“Get it out of your system,” Henrik says to his friend, sighing as Benji chuckles at his expense.
The man arrived ten minutes prior, laden down with cat supplies. Way more than needed for a single night, but I couldn’t bring myself to tell Henrik it was overkill. Not when he so readily came to the rescue.
Now the two kittens have a litter pan, food, water, and toys set up in the guest room, where I’ll confine them for the night so they don’t get into trouble in Henrik’s penthouse.
Henrik doesn’t seem to mind them racing around in the meantime, getting their after-bath zoomies out, hopping all over the furniture and skidding past Henrik’s bare feet.
Benji clicks his tongue. “Buying a guy a new wardrobe is one thing. Letting him bring home cats?” He whistles softly.
I know I should alert the men to my presence, but my feet feel rooted to the floor.
“They will only be here for the night,” Henrik says, voice tight.
“So you say,” Benji replies. “But you’re different with this one, Henrik. He must be great in the sa—”
“ Benjamin . That is quite enough,” Henrik barks as my pulse thrums wildly.
“Henrik, you know I was joking.”
“You should get back to your husband. I’ve hogged enough of your time tonight,” Henrik says, tone still clipped.
Benji sighs, speaking softly. “I was only teasing, Henrik. You know that. I like the kid. But clearly, I hit a nerve.” He reaches forward, squeezing Henrik’s arm. Henrik barely moves. “I didn’t mean to offend. Have fun with your cats. And your Mal.”
Henrik stays standing in the same spot as Benji leaves, but the kittens zoom past me down the hall when the elevator door opens. Once it closes, Henrik lets out a sigh, and I step from the hallway. He turns his head, and I stride right up.
I don’t know if what Benji said is true—if Henrik really is different around me. I don’t dare assume he cares for me beyond the bounds of our arrangement. That’s much too dangerous a game.
But I do know, tonight, Henrik has shown me the depth of his kindness. And when Benji’s teasing words were aimed my way, Henrik shut it down immediately. He came to my defense when he didn’t have to. Maybe that’s just who Henrik is. Or maybe that means something.
Whatever the reason, I don’t want to question my desire for this man any longer.
Something about Henrik calls to me. Maybe it’s his calming presence, his sense of order that feeds my own need for control.
The way he’s like a pillar of strength, steady and strong.
Maybe it’s the way his careful demeanor slips apart when we’re together.
How his verdant eyes light up before they darken.
How he seems to crave being near. How he can’t stop touching, touching, touching .
Maybe I simply crave more of that exhilarating mouth of his.
Whatever the reason, I don’t care. I want Henrik. I want this man.
Henrik hums curiously when I approach and pull him around to face me, a sound that pitches low when my lips greet his.
There’s no hesitation this time as Henrik meets me move for move, his hands in my hair as mine clutch against his shoulder blades.
He sucks my lower lip after I nip his, and his tongue greets mine like a long-lost lover.
I don’t know who moves first—if I pull or he pushes—but Henrik guides me down the hall with lips locked.
We breach his doorway, and I slap my hand against the wall, flicking on the light.
Henrik keeps backing me until my legs hit his bed, much as they did to my own earlier this evening, and then he’s on top of me as if the past hour’s interruptions never happened.
He tugs at my shirt, and it slips over my head, blocking mouths for two seconds too long. He scrambles to undo my jeans next, and I pull frantically at the buttons of his shirt. Henrik growls low as my zipper gets stuck, and when it finally gives, he tugs my pants swiftly down my thighs.
I practically whine as Henrik’s lips leave mine, but then he’s hovering over my crotch, tearing my jeans the rest of the way off and lowering his face against the cotton of my briefs.
My whine turns into a moan when he kisses my erection through the fabric, and I bunch his bedspread in my hands, my hips rising to meet his mouth, silently begging him to remove the barrier between skin.
He takes his time, though, planting slightly parted lips against every inch of my covered cock, worshiping me, it seems, even as my blood begins to boil.
His hands roam over my exposed torso, fingers flitting over the dips and swells of my abdomen, blunt nails grazing the grooves of my hips.
I moan low, needing more, never wanting it to stop. “ Hen .”
Henrik looks up at me, and my breath hitches. There . That feral glint in his eye. That wildness. That’s what I want. What I long for.
Knowing he’s coming unhinged.
Desperately wishing it’s because of me .
“I know, Mal,” he says, finally, finally tugging my underwear down, his lips moving lower. “I know.”