Ch. 32 – Rico
“ T hanks a lot, you little cockblocker,” Rico huffed, gripping the cat’s leash as Styles hopped down the stairs from Jax’s apartment and immediately veered off the concrete pathway. The cat sniffed at the grass and tugged at his harness. Rico followed him onto the lawn.
His body was on fire, his lips tingling from the taste of Jax. Little Rico, ever the optimist, strained against his jeans, still hoping for a release. Yeah, he was on his way to the worst case of blue balls in his life, but so worth it.
Jax was worth it.
The small, spotted kitten flopped over in the grass, rubbing his face in the dirt.
Rico smiled. That kiss had been otherworldly, the way Jax had opened to him, clung to him like she was drowning in emotion. It’d taken all his restraint to keep things slow and steady so he wouldn’t overwhelm her again.
And still, she’d shied from him. Something was holding her back. What was she afraid of? Why did she keep pulling away ?
Overhead, streetlamps along the path in the courtyard cast a soft, buttery glow against the night. Rico didn’t have those answers, but he did know one thing. He was willing to wait.
Most of the women in his past had been ready to get hot and heavy after the first date. A few hadn’t even bothered with the date, and he’d been all too game to follow their lead. Jax was different. She needed time and space, and Rico knew he’d give it to her. He’d give her whatever she needed.
A door to a first-floor apartment opened and a woman swathed in a bathrobe and slippers emerged with a white fluff ball under her arm. She dropped her dog into the grass, then proceeded to give Rico and Styles serious side-eye.
You’d think the woman had never seen an incredibly handsome man walking a cat before. Rico ignored her and allowed Styles to choose his own adventure. The kitten wandered around the grassy courtyard, leapt after a moth, chewed on the branch of a bush, and executed several more flops.
After fifteen minutes, Rico figured he’d done his duty. He picked the cat up under his arm, gave a dignified head nod to Bathrobe Lady, and climbed the stairs to Jax’s apartment. With every step, the temperature rose inside his body.
Maybe she’d be willing to try some more tongue tango, or perhaps she was ready for more. He opened the door, whipped out his best smile . . . and sighed.
Jax was fast asleep on the couch, her face resting on a decorative pillow, her arms curled into her chest. Rico unhooked the cat from the harness, then threw an accusatory look at Sancho in his carrying case .
“How could you have let this happen?” he hissed to the rat, who scampered up one of the platforms and stared at him. Rico shook his head. Were all the animals colluding against his penis tonight?
But when he looked at Jax again, his frustration evaporated. Without her shield of sarcasm held at the ready, her face looked innocent and sweet. Waves of dark, chestnut hair framed her face, and her long lashes quivered with her steady breaths. A wave of tenderness rose and crested in Rico’s heart, and it scared the absolute shit out of him.
He’d been fond of the previous women in his life. He’d appreciated their personalities, enjoyed their banter, and lusted over their bodies. But he’d never felt like this. Protective and aching with want at the same time.
What was this girl doing to him?
Rico didn’t have that answer, either.
So, he did the only thing he could. He gently lifted Jax into his arms. She sighed, and her eyes flickered open. She saw him and smiled.
“Hi,” she whispered.
“Hi,” Rico answered, but her eyes had already closed. She nestled closer to his chest. His heart wanted to weep.
It was then that he realized he didn’t know which room was hers. He walked her to the first bedroom and stuck his head in. A blizzard of colorful clothing lay strewn across the floor and the walls held an army of posters featuring half-naked men. So, that room was a hard no.
The second room was neat and sparse. No posters hung on the wall, but when he looked up, he saw a galaxy of glow-in-the-dark stars stuck to the ceiling.
“So you were the one who put those on the ceiling out there,” he said, chuckling. Gently, he pulled back a worn quilt and the sheets and laid Jax on the bed. She snuffled and turned on her side. Her hand reached out, stroked past his arm, and gripped the sheets, pulling them over her body.
“I was gonna take off your shoe for you, but okay,” he said. “Lady’s choice.”
The bed smelled lightly of honeysuckle. The same fragrance he’d breathed in from Jax’s hair when he’d carried her up the stairs and kissed her neck earlier. He looked around the room, pausing as he caught a glimpse of her closet.
Rico knew he shouldn’t snoop, but one of the gliding doors was pushed back. He couldn’t help himself. He peered inside.
“So you do own clothes with colors,” he said, delighted. “Why don’t you wear them, Jax?” As his eyes adjusted to the dim room, he also noticed trophies piled in the back corner of the closet, almost hidden by pairs of boots and tennis shoes.
He looked back at Jax. “You must have been pretty good at tennis. So, why did you quit?”
Another question, another mystery he wouldn’t solve tonight. He turned back to the bed, leaned over, and brushed a lock of hair off Jax’s face. God, she was beautiful, no matter how hard she tried to hide it. Rico laid a protective kiss on her temple. Then he pulled the comforter up and over her shoulders.
The kitten leapt on the bed, quiet as a ninja. He made his way over Jax’s legs, and quickly settled himself into the curve of her stomach.
Lucky cat.
“You watch over her tonight, okay?” Rico said to the cat. Styles looked up at him with wide, serious eyes. It almost seemed as if he understood.
Rico retreated from Jax’s room and picked up Sancho’s carrying case. As he headed out the door of the apartment, he lifted the case and shook his head.
“Talking to a cat,” he mused to Sancho. “I must be out of my mind.”