Chapter Sixteen
Caitlin
“This is stupid,” I grumbled, ripping the third shirt off and tossing it onto my bed.
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d fussed so much about an outfit.
Then again, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been interested in a man, either. So I was giving myself a little grace about being silly and girlish over my outfit.
It was cloudy with a chance of never-ending rain, so anything super cute was out, but I eventually settled on a brown corduroy skirt, a lightweight sweater printed with little pumpkins, and a pair of low boots for the ultimate fall outfit that didn’t look like I was trying too hard.
I pulled my hair up into a ponytail secured with a claw clip—since using an elastic proved difficult if not outright impossible with the stupid cast—grabbed my bag and an umbrella, and made my way out the door with a giddy, skittering feeling rushing through my veins.
The sky opened up just before I reached the ground level, so I paused outside my building to flick open my umbrella and stepped out onto the wet sidewalk.
I was only a few feet away from my building when I saw a familiar face.
Or, well, he would have been familiar if he wasn’t so bruised, bloody, and swollen.
The guy from the pizza place on the corner.
The one who gave me the creeps.
Well, it looked like he finally gave the wrong person the ick.
His black-eye-ringed gaze flicked up to me, and I watched his eyes widen before he turned and ran away from me.
Huh.
Weird.
I stopped to grab myself a pumpkin spice latte and Gav a boring old drip, forcing me to have to use my casted arm and my boobs as a shelf to carry the tray so I could still hold the umbrella.
I was over the cast already.
I was half-tempted to follow up with an orthopedic doctor to ask if I could maybe switch to a brace. Or one of those 3D-printed casts.
Someone took mercy on me at Gav’s apartment building, helping me with the door then holding the tray of coffees while I wrapped up my umbrella.
When Gav opened the door, his gaze flicked over me in a way that had my belly wobbling.
“You look like a magazine spread for a fall fashion line.”
“I’m choosing to take that as a compliment.”
“It was meant as one,” he said, taking the tray from me as I moved into his apartment.
“Oh, memories,” I said, smirking as I stared at his dining room chair.
“I know, right? I’m almost a little nostalgic for the handcuffs,” he said as he grabbed and took a sip of the wrong coffee before I could stop him.
Which I counted as a win because I got to watch the look of horror cross his face as he forced himself to swallow.
“The fuck is that?” he grumbled as I moved toward him.
“Pumpkin spice latte,” I told him. “You have a little whipped cream,” I said, reaching up to wipe it from the corner of his lips.
I froze as his gaze cut to mine, the heat so intense there that I felt scorched.
I brought my finger to my own mouth, tasting the whipped cream, but mostly enjoying the way his eyes went heavy-lidded at the gesture.
The second my finger was out of my mouth, his hand grabbed the back of my neck, yanking me hard enough to make me tumble into his chest.
I would have paused to really appreciate the desperation and how good he felt against me, but then his face was lowering, and his lips were crashing into mine, and everything else fell away. But the heat, but the pressure, but the feel of his lips slanting over mine again and again.
I felt myself moving, then slamming back against the kitchen counter.
Gav broke the kiss just long enough to grab me behind my legs, lifting me up and depositing me on the counter. He pressed into my knees, then stepped into the space as my legs spread for him.
His lips claimed mine again—harder, hungrier.
My arms wrapped around him as his hands grabbed my hips, shifting me, angling me, then pressing his pelvis against mine, his cock hard against the confines of his slacks.
I moaned against his mouth as pleasure started between my legs and shot up my spine, every nerve ending honed in on the sensation as he rocked his hips and ground against me.
His tongue took advantage of my parted lips, moving inside to stroke mine.
My legs locked around his lower back, holding him more firmly against me as I writhed.
We’d just found the pressure and rhythm I liked when there was a sharp knock at the door.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Gav grumbled as he broke the kiss and pressed his forehead to mine.
A disappointed little whimper escaped me as he pulled back, his eyes full of regret, but there was another knock that had him sighing, then taking a few deep breaths before making his way over to the door.
I didn’t quite trust my legs to hold me, but remembered to at least press them closed again before Gav pulled open the door.
“Got word you were back in—” a voice started, then stopped, as the man spotted me.
It was the same one from the time before. The big guy with the warm eyes.
Spotting me sitting there, his lips twitched, then lost the fight with the smile, making a dimple press in at his cheek, forming a long line that almost looked like a scar.
“Shouldn’t he be chained to the chair?” he asked, nodding his head toward his brother.
“He’s,” I paused, cleared my throat of the thickness of my desire, and tried again. “He’s cooperating so far, so he’s allowed to be free.”
“Well, you just let me know if you need someone to wrestle him into the chair for you,” he said, still smiling. “Leondro,” he said, offering me his hand. “But everyone calls me Leo.”
“Caitlin.”
“But everyone calls her Nugget,” Gav supplied, shooting me a smirk.
“Hey, don’t go spreading that around. I’ve been trying to shake that nickname since I was a teenager.”
“Well, Nugget,” Leo said, “aside from handcuffing men to chairs, what do you do?”
“Leo,” Gav grumbled, his voice holding some kind of warning, but I didn’t really understand why.
“I do grant work for a non-profit.” If I still had a job after this ‘extended sick leave’ I’d been taking since the day I decided to hold Gav hostage. But that was a problem for another day.
“That sounds—”
“Tedious?” I supplied. “Monotonous? Bureaucratic? Pick your adjective. They’re all right. But it’s also rewarding in its own way.”
“Which charity—”
“Leo,” Gav barked.
“I work for a disability advocacy group,” I said, shooting Gav a confused look. “We are currently pressuring colleges to be more handicap accessible.”
“Wow. Noble cause.”
“Yeah, it’s nice to know that something good comes out of the work at the end of the day.”
“Leo, what are you doing here?” Gav asked.
“Just checking in on my shut-in brother who was just out of town for days. Make sure you’re not going through some sort of existential crisis.”
I knew that brothers teased each other, but there was no stopping the surge of protectiveness I felt toward the man who’d been nothing but kind to me.
“Gav was a great road-trip buddy. He even relocated a spider for me at a campground bathhouse.” Gav shot me a soft look at the same time his brother sent me a curious one. “And he only lectured me about fifteen times about the lack of fruits and vegetables in my diet.”
“And protein,” Gav said. “And fiber.”
“Though I think I’m halfway into making him love pumpkin spice lattes.”
“Not a fucking chance,” Gav said, shaking his head. “We were about to head over to see Zeno,” he told Leo.
Something passed between the two men—decades of closeness making speech unnecessary. But I had a feeling it was about my father, about his connection to their organization.
“Well, I won’t keep you guys then. Caitlin, doll, it was nice seeing you again,” Leo said before making his way to the door. “I’ll call you later,” he told his brother.
I hopped down off the counter, feeling like the magic of the moment was gone, even if my body felt achy and needy still.
“Ready to head out?” Gav asked, grabbing his cell and keys.
Despite the rain, we decided to walk the dozen or so blocks to Zeno’s apartment, both of us sipping our coffee and staying dry under the umbrella Gav held for us.
“Guess who I saw today?” I asked, getting a grunt out of Gav. “That pizza guy I told you about. He looked like he’d been in a nasty fight. Then, when he saw me, he turned and ran. How weird is that?”
“Imagine that,” Gav said, hiding the twitch of his lips behind his coffee cup.
No.
No, things like that didn’t happen in real life, right?
A woman didn’t tell a random guy about an awkward encounter they had only to have him exact vengeance on your part.
That was the stuff of romance novels and suspense movies.
In real life, when you told a guy about that kind of situation, they asked you questions about how you might have led the guy on and suggested maybe you were being paranoid.
I knew.
Because that was what the guy I’d been seeing at the time had said to me.
We didn’t last through the rest of that week. Because, while I didn’t necessarily expect a man to protect me, I wanted one who valued my level of comfort and didn’t try to make me believe I could have done something wrong in a situation that involved harassment.
“He lives above a nightclub?” I asked when we made it to the building.
“Zeno is a night owl. And when he’s working, he can block just about anything out.”
“My nerves would be shot,” I admitted. “The couple above me fighting is enough to get my anxiety rolling some days.”
We hoofed it up the steps to Zeno’s place. Where Gav spent two minutes slamming on the door and calling his brother on the phone.
“Did he not know we were coming?”
“He knew. He probably just forgot. He struggles with executive functions. Especially if work is busy for him. Which it usually is.”
“I feel bad adding on then, if—”
The door flew open.
And then there was Zeno Costa.
There was a family resemblance with all these men. They were all tall, dark-haired, with similar bone structure. But the siblings I’d met so far were also incredibly unique unto themselves.