19. Caleb
NINETEEN
Caleb
I didn’t move when he finished speaking, which should have told me everything I needed to know. Any normal reaction to what Novak had just laid out should have been distance, space, something resembling self-preservation, but instead, I stayed where I was.
I should have been overwhelmed, and maybe part of me was, but it wasn’t fear that stuck; it was clarity, because Novak had unpeeled a few layers, and somehow that made him easier to stand in front of, not harder.
“What is your decision?” It was as if he’d already decided he’d take whatever I gave him and adjust.
“I’m trying to catch up,” I said, dragging a hand through my hair, because my brain was still looping over convents and conditioning and the fact he’d been nine, fucking nine , and somehow the thing that kept cutting through all of it wasn’t the violence, it was him standing here now choosing me.
“You’re not scared,” he observed.
I let out a short breath. “I should be.”
“But you’re not.”
I met his eyes. “No.”
I’d seen obsession before, up close, lived in it from the outside, and it wasn’t chaos the way people thought it was—it was focus, it was certainty, it was knowing where you stood in someone’s world and never having to question it, and that made more sense to me than anything softer ever had.
Killian had it with Jamie, that quiet, unshakeable gravity that bent everything around it, and Lyric had it with Rio in a way that looked effortless until you realized how absolute it was, and Enzo…
Enzo would burn the world down for Robbie without hesitation, and nobody questioned it because it was just the truth.
This was that.
Novak and me.
Just stripped down to something sharper.
“The ultimatum is all in or you stalking me,” I said, because there wasn’t any point pretending otherwise.
“Yes.”
I huffed out a laugh that didn’t feel like humor so much as disbelief catching up. “Jesus.”
I should have said I needed time, or space, or anything that sounded sane, but instead I closed the gap he’d put back between us, because distance suddenly felt wrong.
“I don’t get it,” I admitted, , because that part was true, “but I can’t seem to get enough of you either.”
His fingers curled around the back of my neck. “Is it okay to touch you like this?” he asked.
“God, yes.”
“Do you want to talk about it more?”
“No more talking,” I said.
He tugged me close and kissed me. It wasn’t careful, but it wasn’t out of control either; his lips firm against mine, his grip steady, and I could feel how much he was holding back even now.
I kissed him back without thinking about it, because thinking was the problem, and led to questions I didn’t have answers for yet.
I understood him and me.
This .
His other hand came to my jaw, tilting my head to deepen the kiss, and I let him, let myself lean into it, because there was something addictive about the way he focused on me.
It should have been too much, but it wasn’t.
My forehead rested against his. “I should probably run.”
“Yes.”
I huffed out a breath that almost turned into a laugh. “I’m not going to.”
“I know.” Of course he did.
It didn’t hit all at once. No lightning bolt, no clean moment where everything lined up and made sense. It crept in under the noise, under the arguments and the logic I kept throwing at it, until there wasn’t a version of this I could explain away anymore.
Because this—whatever this was—it wasn’t just attraction, and it wasn’t just curiosity. It wasn’t even the pull of something dangerous, though God knew Novak had that in spades.
It was him.
The way he focused was absolute and unrelenting. The way he chose and then didn’t waver because he’d already decided I was his.
That should have been the part that sent me running.
Instead, it was the part I couldn’t walk away from.
And that was when it hit me somewhere deep enough that I couldn’t shake it loose no matter how hard I tried.
I’m in love with Leon Novak.
A man who didn’t do soft, didn’t do halfway, didn’t do anything without intent. A man who would burn the world down if it meant keeping me safe—and wouldn’t hesitate while he did it.
And knowing that meant I had to decide what the hell I was going to do about it.
“You’re not the only one who’s a problem,” I said quietly.
His head tilted, interest sharpening. “Explain.”
“I’ve seen what this looks like,” I said. “Killian, Lyric, Enzo… It’s not normal, but it works, because it’s absolute, and I get that.” I swallowed, because saying it out loud made it real. “And I think I’m a little obsessed with you, too.”
His grip tightened, his focus narrowed even further. “Define ‘a little,’” he said.
I leaned in, and our lips brushed again. “Enough that I’m still here.”
He kissed me again, slower this time but deeper, and I let it happen, let myself get sucked into it, because whatever this was, however it ended, I already knew I wasn’t walking away.
“Wait,” I said, leaning past him to start the next set of reports, uploading the camera footage to Lyric’s brand-new, less homicidal AI, watching until the progress ticked over to one percent. “We have ninety-nine percent.”
I straightened, aware of him behind me, of the space he occupied, of the way this had changed without me noticing.
I wasn’t managing him, wasn’t containing anything, wasn’t doing the job I’d told myself this was.
I wanted him, plain and simple, and more than that, I was choosing him without any of the usual checks or second-guessing, no internal argument, no attempt to step back and reassess.
I turned back, pushed him against the wall, and dropped to my knees, because after everything he’d said, there was no point pretending I was in control of this anymore.
I didn’t expect him to cook, but Novak tugged me upstairs, with the download at seventy-five percent, because yes, we’d gotten off that fast, set water on to boil, took out a box of mac and cheese from the cupboard, and lined up cookies on a plate with the same precision he used for everything else.
The domesticity was so at odds with everything he’d told me that I found myself watching instead of interrupting, tracking his hands as he measured, stirred, drained, added the powdered cheese and milk, tasted, adjusted, then plated it and set it in front of me with coffee.
I couldn’t stop looking at him, at the control in every movement, the same control I’d felt in his hands on my cock after the blowjob.
I’m in love with you, Leon Novak.
I can’t imagine a life without you in it.
“Eat,” he said.
“You cook,” I said, because I needed to say something that wasn’t about the way my body was still keyed up from him, and he nodded once.
“It’s efficient to know how,” he replied, and then, after a beat that felt deliberate, “You need fuel,” and the way he said it made it sound less like food and more like maintenance.
I ate while he leaned against the counter, coffee in hand, eyes on me the entire time, and it should have been uncomfortable, but it wasn’t, it was charged, and when I reached for a cookie he was already there, pushing the plate closer, his fingers brushing mine for a second too long to be accidental, sending a sharp flicker of awareness through me.
“You always do this?” I asked, nodding at the setup, and he shrugged.
“I’ll do what makes you happy,” he said, and then, quieter, his gaze locking on mine, “You’re my life, Caleb.” Then he washed his hands. “I’ll do a perimeter check.”
“I’ll be down doing... stuff.” I waved at the stairs toward the small room with my computers.
He nodded and left.
As soon as I was back in at my screen, I called Doc. He picked up on the third ring.
“Everything okay?” he cut straight to the chase.
“You free to talk?” I asked, leaning back in my chair, eyes still on the monitors. “Not about the case…”
“I can be,” he said easily. “What’s going on?”
I exhaled slowly, dragging a hand over my mouth. “It’s Novak.”
A pause. “Okay?”
I watched a line of code scroll past and didn’t register a single character.
“I don’t understand what’s going on here,” I blurted.
“I’ve been trying to figure out where it shifted from…
whatever it was at the start into what it is now, and there isn’t a clean point.
No trigger. No obvious escalation. It just—” I broke off, frustrated. “It’s just there.”
On the other end of the line, Doc sighed. “Are you going to tell me what ‘ it’ is,” Doc asked.
I closed my eyes briefly, because saying it out loud felt like committing to it in a way I couldn’t take back. “I think I’m in love with him,” I said. “And that’s fucking stupid right? I mean he’ll never… he can’t…” Great, now I couldn’t even talk in full sentences.
Silence.
Clearly, I’d broken Doc.
“I don’t get it,” I went on quickly, words coming faster now that I’d started.
“I know exactly what he is. I’ve seen it up close.
The way he operates, the way he decides something, and just…
locks onto it. There are no gray areas with him, no hesitation.
That should be a dealbreaker. It should have been a dealbreaker the second I realized he wasn’t going to back off. ”
“But you didn’t want him to,” Doc said.
I let out a short breath that might have been a laugh.
“No,” I admitted. “That’s the problem. I should have wanted distance.
Instead, I started noticing everything else.
The way he pays attention. The way he doesn’t lie, not to me, and bought me all this candy and cookies because he knows I like chocolate donuts.
” I shook my head, even though Doc couldn’t see it.
“I kept telling myself it was just how he functions. That it doesn’t mean anything. ”
“But you think it does,” Doc said.
“Do you think it does?”
He chuckled again. “Does it matter what I think?”
“No,” I said quietly. “It doesn’t. I just needed to talk to someone.”