Chapter Thirty-Six Tom
Chapter Thirty-Six
Tom
I’d fucked up.
When I first saw him at the restaurant, I’d lost it.
Actually, that wasn’t true. I’d neglected my faculties even earlier, when our shoulders brushed briefly, while I was heading toward the front of the line to chide Sully for cutting it.
Even then, the sizzling heat of goose bumps and delight took over me, a physical reaction I only had when I touched him.
I knew it was him simply through a brief touch of our shoulders through our clothes.
Then our eyes met, and I fucking lost it.
Enzo’s hair had been windswept, his lips puffy, his body corded in Greek god proportions, the planes of his features sun-kissed with grace and youth.
Seeing him in a sea of ordinary people reminded me how unbelievably morbidly beautiful he was.
Then those soft eyes lit up at the sight of me, and I remembered where we were and how fucked we’d both be if Sully, Zeke, and the two junior agents ever suspected he was more than just work for me.
I’d told Zeke and Sully that Enzo was a dead end.
If I acted chummy with him now, Sully would pick up the scent and might even do something destructive.
Like tell the Ferrante brothers to try to create friction.
I’d done what needed to be done to protect both of us. That included not even texting him back, from fear anyone at the table would ask me who the contact Butterfly was.
Now I was sitting outside his apartment, my back pressed against his door, waiting for him to come back from wherever he was.
I knew Enzo’s office hours weren’t exactly regular and limited to the daytime, but still couldn’t help but wonder what kept him out at ten at night. Had he gone to meet someone else? The very thought made my stomach churn.
I checked his Instagram. No new grid photos. But one story. I looked at it. Just a black background and some text.
Just leave me alone. I said it was over, and I meant it.
Well, that was one way to break things off.
Draping my elbows on my knees, I let my head fall between my shoulders.
Fucking idiot. What have I done?
I definitely could’ve handled it better.
The elevator pinged open, and I raised my head. Enzo stepped out, still clad in his enforcer clothes. He rolled his eyes at me. “I thought I made myself clear on my Instagram story.”
Ignoring the sledgehammer he’d slung straight into my chest, and the way it shattered everything inside it into pieces, I calmly rose to my feet. “Doesn’t Katya follow your account? Does she ever ask who all your posts and stories are dedicated to?”
He hitched a shoulder up. “She follows me, but I don’t think she cares.”
“This might change once you’re married.”
“That’s not for you to worry about, since we’re officially over.”
We’d been breaking up every other day since this thing started. And yet each time made my pulse stutter.
“I came here to apologize.”
“You called my family lowlifes.”
I stared at him with regret. Sully’s words about Enzo today were unforgivable, not to mention the way he’d pounced at him. But I’d enabled a lot of it, because I had made sure to treat Enzo as badly as I possibly could to distance myself from him.
Getting caught could get Enzo killed. And even if it wouldn’t, my entire operation with the informant, and all my other plans for the case, would go up in flames.
“You called me a punk kid.” He rubbed his nape, scowling at the floor.
I squeezed my eyes shut, surprised by the piercing agony and remorse that consumed me.
He stalked past me, punching the code to his lock and stepping inside. I followed him. He didn’t stop me. He shrugged his jacket off, going about his business like I wasn’t there. Even when he spoke, it was to himself, not to me.
“Your partner’s an asshole.”
“He’s an insecure piece of work with a tiny dick and a God complex,” I provided.
“And you know about his dick because…?”
“Communal urinals.” My sole and desperate attempt at comedy died violently and immaturely.
Enzo did not laugh.
“He threatened me with rape if I go to prison.”
“I’ve already filed a complaint,” I said sincerely, and fucking meant it. Sully had taken it five steps too far, and I couldn’t let it go on like that. Even if it wasn’t Enzo he threatened. This was a vile violation of his authority.
“You should leave.” He chewed on his inner cheek.
“I know. But that never stopped me before.”
“I don’t know why I’m doing this.” He grabbed a fistful of his hair, tugging roughly. “You keep humiliating me, keep treating me like trash, and I keep taking you back. Seeking you out. You’re the worst fucking drug I’ve ever tried. One hit got me hooked.”
“I’m sorry,” I said sincerely.
“If you’re sorry, why did you speak those words?”
“Because I couldn’t run the chance of them seeing what was written plainly on my face every time I looked at you.”
He was quiet for a moment.
“They’re observant people, Enzo. They read people for a living.”
“And what would they have seen on your face?” He studied me, pale honey irises narrowed beneath long lashes.
“That maybe I’m your drug, but you’re my life support.”
He closed his eyes and tossed his head back, then grabbed the back of his neck with a moan. I watched as his Adam’s apple rolled with a painful swallow. He opened his eyes.
“Let’s pretend this is true. You still could’ve texted me back.”
I shook my head. “Couldn’t chance it. Just knowing you’re in my vicinity is enough for me to fall apart.”
“Bullshit. You never fall apart,” he accused.
“Every moment, of every day, I’m worried you’ll change that.”
He drifted toward me, and I met him halfway. I could almost feel his lips on mine before he yanked himself away, tossing his fingers into his hair and tugging hard.
“No. You know what? I’m not doing that anymore.” He shoved at my chest. “Fuck you, Tom. Fuck. You.”
“Fine.”
“What?” He paused.
I grabbed his wrist desperately, tugging him to me. “I said fine. Fuck me. Let’s do it. Let’s go.”
“I’m not going to accept your pity fuck.” He scowled, yanking his wrist away.
“You think this is me pitying you?” I crowded him toward the bedroom, ready for a complete capitulation if it meant having one more time. “I’m telling you I want your dick in my ass, and this is your thank you?”
He shook his head. “Nah, I’m not going to fuck you because you feel like you need to pacify me. It’s not how I roll. I don’t use people like that.”
“I don’t want you to fuck me because I want to pacify you.” It wasn’t the entire truth, but some of it. “I want you to fuck me because I want you inside me so badly I can barely fucking breathe.”
Now, this? This was the entire truth.
His eyes flared, but he let me guide him through the hallway. “Are you for real right now?”
I stopped when the backs of his legs hit his bedframe, staring into his eyes. “What do you think?”
“I think you’ll say and do anything to get your way.”
“I’ve never tried it before, and if I’m ever going to try it—I want it to be you, Enzo.”
A broken groan tore through his throat when I covered his mouth with mine, grabbing his jaw with both hands and pulling him to me.
The kiss turned fierce and demanding in seconds, but this time, he was the one who took charge.
He fisted my hair, guiding me down to my knees with one hand while unzipping himself with the other.
“Really didn’t appreciate how you treated me today, Tomcat.”
His cock sprang from his pants, slapping me not so accidentally.
I scooped it into my mouth with the intention of sucking, but Enzo threaded his fingers tighter against my skull and started pumping, fucking my face with abandon.
I could taste his day on his skin. The unapologetic taste of an unshowered man.
The salt of his flesh filled my mouth, the muskiness of it drugging me.
It was like kissing the ocean, a euphoric sensation that gathered in the pit of my stomach like a tropical storm, hot and wet and uncontrollable.
I scraped my fingers along the trimmed curls of his pubic hair, shaking with excitement. It was the only coarse thing about him, and I loved it. Everything else was soft cashmere, a cloak of perfection wrapping hard, sinewy muscles and bronze skin.
“Yeah, baby. Lube me good.” He stroked my hair, his voice raspy and rough. “Because I’m going to fuck that cranky attitude out of you.”
I sucked every groan and pant out of him. My cock swelled in my pants, and I grabbed his root and seized control, first spitting all over it, then sucking just the crown, before gliding my tongue to the underside of his dick and angling it up with my fist as I lapped my tongue against his balls.
“Mmmmf, that’s right.” His grip on my hair tightened, and he removed my glasses, setting them on the nightstand. “Worship this punk kid’s nuts, SSA Rothwell.”
Any other man couldn’t get away with half the shit this one said to me.
However, my bullshit threshold was staggeringly high when it came to this man.
I was down bad, pathetically wrapped around his little finger.
The harder I tried to fight it, the more ridiculous I looked when I undid the damage I’d caused for myself.
I had a terrible feeling I would destroy the entire fucking world if he asked me to. And with his being a professional troublemaker, I didn’t put it past Enzo to ask.
The tip of my tongue touched the rim of his ass, and I dove deeper, stroking him up and down, when he decided he was too close to bust his load.
He let go of my hair and tugged me up, pressing a lenient kiss to my mouth.
There was forgiveness there, and it loosened a tight, anxious knot in my chest. We both tumbled down the bed, lips still fused together.
We removed each other’s clothes between guttural pants and dirty, hurried kisses.
With each item of clothing I removed from him, my mood lifted.
He was a damn drug, and I was a terrible, pathetic junkie who would find any excuse, any loophole, any argument not to go to rehab.
I didn’t want to get better.