Chapter 17
Something is up with Saint. He looks angry, and it seems to be aimed at me. “Have I done something wrong? You’ve been scowling at me all day,” I ask him when we both have a break in the late afternoon.
“Why would you think that? We’ve hardly spoken.” He growls and nudges me out of the way with his shoulder, then yanks the door of the fridge violently open and stares in it. Then he pulls out a can of pop and snaps the tab, gulping down the cold drink.
“So, who do you have a shitty on with then, because someone obviously pissed on your Weetabix this morning.”
This time I get a look that will sour milk, and I roll my eyes at him. “Fine. You can spend the rest of the day frightening your clients.”
“You’re such a fucking brat.” He slams the Coke down on the small table, making the brown liquid froth and spill over the edges and onto the table. Then my back hits the wall, and his mouth is on mine.
This is a brutal attack, nothing like the first, but I can’t stop opening my mouth, giving him permission to thrust his tongue inside.
I can taste the Coke on his tongue, but there’s more—he tastes of desperation and need.
As I grab his hips, he presses against me, and I can feel his thick erection against my stomach.
He tugs on my hair, his fingers tight in the loose strands.
It’s the hottest kiss I’ve ever had, but rationality seeps into my mind, and I push him away.
If he can’t talk to me, then I’m sure as shit not letting him kiss me. Not like this, not when he’s so angry.
“Stop,” I say, the word ragged as I draw in a breath.
His eyes are dark and full of something I can’t decipher.
Like his kiss, they’re desperate, longing for something.
But as he wipes his wet lips with the back of his hand, his scowl is back.
“Is this the way it’s going to be? I’m not your whipping boy, Saint.
You can’t take your anger at whatever has you pissed off out on me. ”
Before he can answer, the buzzer from the front door rings out loudly in the silent room. I straighten up, turning away to answer the door. It’s Saint’s next client, and I watch as Saint turns on his easy-going persona and acts as if nothing just happened.
“What about this one?” Kip turns his laptop around to show me a picture of a flat that’s available. “It’s in a central location. You’d be able to walk to the studio, and it’s not too expensive.”
I look and Kip clicks on the photo reel; the place looks perfect. It’s small but has everything I need and has just been refurbished. “It looks great, but I bet it’s gone by now.”
“Call the agent, arrange to look at it,” Robin says. He’s not thrilled with me leaving, but only because he loves to spoil and pamper his family, and apparently, that’s what I am now.
“Oh, never mind. It’s unfurnished, I can’t afford to buy that too.” I sigh as my shoulders slump. It’s going to take me months to save for furniture. I thought most would come with at least a bed and a sofa. That’s all I need. I’m not a materialistic person; I’ve never had the chance to own much.
“Don’t let that be an issue. We can help with that. We’ve done this before for all our boys,” Kip says as he looks at the details of the flat and pulls out his phone. “It won’t be new stuff. The boys give it back when they’ve been able to replace it.”
“But—” Before I can lodge a complaint that started with not being one of their kids, Kip speaks to whoever he’d called. I listen in horror as he takes over and gets more details on the flat.
“Excellent, Steve, we’ll meet you there shortly.” He ends the call and grins at me. “You’re right, there’s been plenty of interest, but he’s holding off until we can get a look at it. So come on. Chop-chop, no time like the present.”
“What? How? I’m not sure, Kip. It’s still the top end of my budget.” What is it about this family that they just take over and make all the decisions? Now I know where Saint gets it from.
Robin gives my shoulder a squeeze and rolls his eyes. “We may as well do as he says. He’s got it in his head now.”
“Or maybe he just wants me out of your home. I’ve probably overstayed my welcome by about six weeks.” Which is just a little under how long I’ve been here. By the crease between his eyes as he frowns, Robin doesn’t like that.
Kip says, “You said you wanted your own space, Noah, and that’s perfectly normal. As for us, you’re welcome to stay as long as you want.”
“Did you speak to Saint about what we talked about?” Robin asks, and here I was hoping he’d forgotten about that uncomfortable conversation.
“Um, sort of. It was kind of awkward.” My cheeks burn with the heat of embarrassment. “Nothing came of it.”
“Stubborn boy. I’ll have to have a word with him.” He tuts and shakes his head as fear rushes through me.
“Please don’t, he’s been in such a bad mood with me. He’s hardly spoken to me since Thursday when he…” My words fade away at the memory of him pressing me into the wall and taking over my mouth.
“When he what? What has that bloody boy done now,” Robin snaps, his expression changing. “I could throttle him sometimes. Typical Dom, always putting the world on their shoulders, as if no one else can make a decision.”
“I heard he was at Bound on Wednesday night with Master Karl, Tate, and Roman. Apparently, Saint was punishing Tate,” Knox says as he walks in, catching the tail end of the conversation.
I baulk and feel the blood draining from my face. The glare Robin shoots Knox should have him quaking in his boots, but he just shrugs. “Why are you looking at me like that? It’s true. Roman got it easy, Karl punished him. Tate was the one on his knees, choking on Saint.”
My mouth drops open at the open way he talks about sex with his dads, and it’s really kinky sex too.
“That’s enough, Knox. You shouldn’t be talking about it. You know the rules.”
He shrugs again, totally unfazed by the rebuke.
Kip looks at me with his car keys in his hand. “Come on, Steve’s going to meet us there.”
“Where are you going?” Knox asks.
“We’re going to look at a flat for me.” I am happy to have the topic change.
“Ooh, cool. Can I come too?” Knox’s enthusiasm has mine building a little. I don’t want the images of Saint with the man who keeps showing off in front of me.
The place is perfect. The rooms are a decent size, even the bathroom.
The living area is an L-shape with the kitchen at the back.
It’s only a fifteen-minute walk to work, and there are plenty of amenities around me.
I want it, it’s just what I need too. A space away from my surrogate family.
I love Robin and Kip to bits, but it’s time for me to live on my own.
I’ve never had a place to myself. The places in Leeds I stayed in were full of people, the rooms always chock-a-block with people I didn’t even know.
It was transient. I knew it was time for me to move on when I ended up being one of the longest residents there. It wasn’t hard to walk away.
“What do you think, Noah? Is it what you’ve been looking for?” Steve, the estate agent, asks as he moves away from Kip.
“It is.” I smile as Robin gives me a side hug. I look at him. “Were you serious about the furniture?”
“Absolutely. Knox was the last to use it, and it’s all in good condition. We can sort it out when we get back home.”
My eyes roam around the space again. Its plain white walls will soon be covered in my artwork, brightening up the place. The sun comes through a large window taking up most of the main living room wall. I’ll have plenty of light to work. “I’d like to take it, please, Steve.”
“Excellent. I’ll take some details now, but can you come into the office Monday? We can finalise the contract there. It’s fixed for the first six months, then it’s a month’s notice when you come to leave.”
I give him the information he needs and then give it one more walk through.
Yes, I think to myself. This is exactly what I need.