Chapter 6
Notes:
Sorry this chapter is late. I tried to do my friend a solid by hiding inside a giant cake for his buddy’s bachelor party, but they ended up changing the plan.
Nobody gave ME the memo, so I waited around scrunched up inside a huge cake until my foot cramped.
It tasted good though. Strawberry and vanilla.
Milo
Rowan doesn’t trust me. Smart.
The wild way his eyes bounce around the room while he situates Iggy’s tank tells me as much, especially the way they keep landing on me. Guess that’s fair.
I don’t trust him either.
Also, though? Don’t think I don’t notice the blush that rises so easily to his pale cheeks and throat. Redheads, man.
“What are you looking at?” Rowan asks after the zillionth time HE has looked at me.
“Just wondering why you look like you think you’re about to get busted any second.”
“People tried to kill me tonight. Plural. How the hell else would I be?”
“To be fair, I didn’t try to kill you that hard.”
“Really? Good to know. Thanks a whole fucking lot. That is the opposite of helpful.”
“Nobody knows we’re here except Jalen and your pimp, who are up to their criminally affiliated necks in mutually assured destruction. They will not tell anybody.”
His shoulders drop a little. “I… This all feels so weird.”
“Yeah. It feels weird because it’s weird.
” I cross my arms over my chest, studying him.
Rowan’s a big guy. Rangy frame. Lean muscle.
Not chiseled or anything, but how realistic is a guy who missed his calling as a statue, anyway?
I can tell he takes care of himself. I can also see the way his entire being curls inward a little, the way he fidgets and keeps scanning the room when anyone can see he’s exhausted and needs to sit the hell down.
Which I care fuck all about. Obviously.
“Guess you’re right,” he mumbles. “I wish I knew why any of this is even happening. I don’t understand.”
“Neither do I, baby.” Yeah, I heard it. It keeps slipping out. I’ve given my tongue several talking-tos at this point.
I jerk my chin toward the cabin’s only bedroom. It’s a cozy little rustic home with a fireplace, a tiny eat-in kitchen, and a small living area. The sofa’s more of a love seat, and neither of us will fit.
“Look, we’re both wiped. Let’s get some rest.”
Right then, Rowan’s stomach lets out an angry noise. Like thunder threatening to break the sky open.
Well, now who looks like a dick? “Shit. You never ate, did you?” It comes out on an impatient sigh.
I’m used to working alone, after all. Having to deal with the needs of this man, I’m reevaluating my choices.
Maybe I should go ahead and kill him, before I make a dumb mistake like caring too much or getting attached to his damn iguana or whatever.
“When exactly would I have had time to do that? When I was stuck under a dead body? When you were telling me you wanted to kill me? When you were forcing me to pack at gunpoint while tapping your foot?”
Jeez. “No need to get spicy about it. And by the way, I didn’t want to kill you, I was telling you that was the job.
Here.” I dig into my pack and pull out a bag of homemade pretzels.
Took ages of begging to get the recipe, and I barely had time to make a batch before I got called out of town to do this job.
I’m hesitant to share, but I can’t have a hungry giant on my hands. “Eat something already.”
He takes the bag, still looking wary. His stomach lets out another thunderous growl, and he must be too hungry to argue further because he grabs one of the soft-baked twists a little too quickly and shoves almost a whole one into his mouth at once.
To my horror, about half of what goes in immediately gets spat back out. “Holy shit, these are awful.”
“What? No they’re fucking not. It’s Ethel’s recipe. I even sent her pictures to make sure I did them right.”
Rowan looks wary. “I don’t know who Ethel is, but she did you dirty. Who even is Ethel?” He keeps glancing around. Probably hoping to find a saner adult, but he’s out of luck.
She’s my late great-aunt’s “special friend,” but that’s none of his business. Especially since the asshole can’t appreciate my baked goods.
Heat burns through my belly, and not the pleasant kind. “You know what? Never mind.” I snatch the bag back out of his hands. “You don’t like them, I guess you’ll have to starve. Fuck you.”
Driven less by hunger than a desire to prove the dick wrong, I shove half a pretzel into my mouth. Feels like someone tried to pickle the inside of my mouth. Oh, fuck, this really is awful.
Pride demands I force myself to swallow the dry, salty lump. I nearly choke. “Swear to God, I’m going to cut off that bitch’s oxygen.”
Rowan snaps his gaze to mine. “What was that?”
“Nothing.” I dust the crumbs from my hand and chuck the rest of the pretzels into the trash. “All right. Fuck this. Time to get some sleep.” I point into the bedroom. There’s only one. Looks like a queen bed. “We’re going to have to share.”
Rowan’s cheeks flush crimson again. “Fine.”
Exactly. Fine. Everything’s fucking fine. “You go ahead; I need to grab something first.”
I find what I’m looking for in the zippered bottom of my pack and tuck it into my back pocket.
When I get into the bedroom he’s stretched out on top of the covers, one hand under his head. Lucky for me, the bed has one of those wrought iron canopy frames. Sturdy, with lots of places to attach stuff. Gives me a pretty good idea of what Rowan’s pimp gets up to when he’s here.
First, I’ll admit I play dirty. I trail my fingers over the arm he’s got pillowed under his head, eliciting a twitch, a smile, and a small giggle that I refuse to let land in my chest the way it wants to.
I trail over the blueish veins snaking down the inside of his arm, then wrap my fingers around his wrist. There’s a hint of a smile on his lips when he cracks his eyes open.
Until I snap the handcuff closed and secure the other end to the bed frame.
He shoots up. As far as he can until he meets resistance. “What the fuck?”
I straddle his waist. We’re both clothed, but I can feel him hardening under my ass. He’s also trembling. There’s fear in his eyes, even though the adrenaline seems to turn him on.
“Sure you didn’t let that guy tie you down earlier?”
Rowan lifts his chin. “Told you, I didn’t let him. It’s against the rules. Brennan was really clear on the rules.”
Ah. “But you liked it when he did.”
“Until he tried to fucking kill me.” He jerks his hand, flinching probably because of the raw marks from earlier. But then? Any anger or fear he might’ve tried to convey gets ruined by the low moan that slips out of his lips.
“And yet here you are moaning for me.” My tone is hard but I’m grinding my clothed ass on his hard cock. Might be fun to ride him like this, with him all tied down.
“Such a hot fucking whore,” I murmur.
He narrows his eyes. “Until you try to kill me too. Right?”
“I promised Jalen I wouldn’t.”
“That means nothing though, does it? You said you’re waiting to hear back from your handler or whatever. What happens if he doesn’t get back to you?”
“He will.” He’d better.
“What happens if he gets back to you and I’ve done some terrible thing that fits your code?”
“That depends. Have you done some horrible thing?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.” Something crosses his face. A memory, I bet. Whether he’s done anything to justify calling a hit, on some level he’s got something to atone for. Or he thinks he does.
“Nah.” I sit up. “If you had, you’d know. Trust me. There would be that one thing you’re absolutely terrified of anyone at all finding out. There’d be something you revisit only when you’re alone, late at night, with guilt in your heart. Unless you’re some kind of psychopath, anyway.”
“Well. I guess you’d know better than me. Being the expert on death and psychopaths and all.” His tone is a mix of snarky and cold, but those eyelids? They’re at half-mast and looking as bedroom-y as anything.
Folding forward, I press myself against him, front to front.
I trail my nose over his chest and throat, drinking in the scent of clean skin and something earthy from his bodywash.
When I get up to his chin, I flick my tongue across it for the joy of seeing his lips part and his own tongue slip out to seek mine.
I’m literally holding him captive, but he still wants to kiss me.
“I’m not psychic or anything,” I say against his open mouth. “Just have a lot of practice with how people suck.”
He licks his lips, and mine at the same time. “That’s all it takes? I’ve got experience with people sucking too.”
“No shit.” I’m not saying he wouldn’t have wound up in this business otherwise, but the statistical odds aren’t exactly in his favor.
Had a job at a legal brothel in Switzerland once. There was a woman there who was basically only coming in a few afternoons a week because she was bored and her husband worked a lot. She wanted to get laid. Hubby wasn’t doing the job. Why not make money? It can be that simple.
From what I’ve seen, though? It’s not like that here. Not usually.
I trace my tongue along Rowan’s lower lip. He opens more for me, groaning when I lick inside. When I pull back to get a look at his face, I see determination mixed with desire.
He doesn’t just want to fuck me. He thinks he has to.
“Jesus. You think if I fuck you then I won’t kill you. Is that it?”
“That’s not it.” His gaze cuts away.
“Liar.”
“I’m not lying.” Is that a sigh or a groan coming out of Rowan right now? A bit of both. “I don’t know. Am I hoping so? Of course I am. I don’t know you well enough to know what you’ll do.”
“Hedging your bets, then?”
His suddenly wet gaze pricks at my skin. “What would you do if you were me?”
The same thing. Exactly the same thing.
“Is that really all this is about? You’re willing to get your dick out for a guy who might put a bullet in your head?
” At this point, the chances of me fulfilling the contract are dwindling.
And the ragged breathing, the needy whine as he thrusts up against me?
Fuck, that’s too good. I shouldn’t like it this much, but I shouldn’t do a lot of the things I’ve done.
“I guess also…” He whines and grinds against me harder. “What we did before… Things with my ex got…stale.”
I follow the trail of my fingers through his sparse chest hair. “They got boring.”
“So fucking boring.” Another whine. Didn’t know such a big guy could make a sound so needy and high. “At first it was sexy and exciting. I loved how he was more experienced, but…”
“But?” I make a circle with my hips, teasing his hard dick with mine.
A quiet sigh. “He liked things the way he liked them. Never wanted to try different things.” Rowan shakes his head. Shaking the memory away.
“Different things like jerking your dick in the shower while calling you a whore?”
“Or fucking me hard. Pulling my hair… Hey.” He lets out a pained hiss when I tangle my fingers in his hair at his nape and tug.
Doesn’t ask me to quit though. “Look, there is one thing. Whatever you do to me, Iggy’s all I’ve got.
He needs heat, light, and darkness at night.
And h-he likes mealworms and crickets and vegetables and also sometimes as a treat I give him a blueberry but only occasionally because too many aren’t good for him. ”
Suddenly winded, I freeze mid-grind.
For fucks sake, he doesn’t still think I might kill him. He expects me to.
What in the hell am I supposed to do with that?
What? He’s just given up, and he’s moved on to making sure his damn pet is okay? That’s fucked. So is the fact that I’m melting a little, because, fuck, that’s selfless. Not too many people like that in my world.
Still, this is going places I’d rather it didn’t. I reach back to grab his dick over his pants, stroking roughly to make him moan. When he closes his eyes and lets his head fall back, I stop.
“W-why’d you stop?”
Because I need to leave before I do something we both regret. I slide off his lap and leave the bed. “Your body’s not a bargaining chip, Rowan. Neither is mine. You’re insulting us both with that shit.”
I only glance back once as I leave the room. Okay, twice.
It takes more effort than it should to stop myself from turning a third time.