Chapter 10 #4
He grabbed his coat, and I let him lead the way out the door. Blood rushed in my ears, same as after a goal or a win, when my legs were burning and my head was empty of all the usual noise.
Clean exit. Don’t hand them anything.
Hallway. Elevator with a little camera mounted in the corner. Stellan and I watched each other from opposite sides, mirrors throwing our reflections back at us.
“Hey,” I said, quiet, as we started descending.
He exhaled through his nose, eyes unfocused for half a beat before they cleared. “Jesus,” he said. “That—” He broke off, like a part of him still needed to catch up.
“You did good,” I told him.
His gaze snapped back to mine, shoulders going loose. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” The elevator glided to a smooth halt that I felt in my bones, like something in me had shifted right along with the relief that rolled off him. We exited straight into underground parking, side by side as we walked back to my car.
Stellan’s voice dipped low in the empty space. “You were very… captain-y in there.”
“They don’t get to scare you and then act surprised when I take it personally.”
Too fucking true.
He slowed for a step, then caught up again, his mouth parted slightly as he watched me with something strangely intense tucked just behind his eyes.
He blinked and it was gone, made room for a smile that dimpled one of his cheeks.
A quick glance around before he looked back at me. “That’s kind of a turn-on, actually.”
Warmth touched the back of my neck. I slid into the driver’s seat, Stellan slipping in on the other side. “Sexy like predictability?” I asked him.
“Sexier,” he said.
Again, I stopped myself from reaching for him. Soon, though. Soon.
“So,” he said into that thought, head tipping back against the seat, eyes warm in the shadowed interior of my car. “I think we won this round. Right?”
I thought about the way Leland’s voice had lost its polish, about old pictures that were useless to them now. About Stellan sitting up in his chair, voice sure as he told them he was done with their bullshit.
“We did,” I said. “Hell, we won the fucking war.”
I expected him to laugh at my wording. Instead, he inhaled deeply, his chest rising with it, before another smile crossed his face. “Let’s get out of here.”
“Let’s,” I said, and started the engine.
We rolled out into early evening and the velvet glow of city lights against the dark. Halfway down the first block, I reached over and set my hand on Stellan’s thigh.
Casual. Practically invisible.
His head turned, an intake of breath like he was about to say something light and easy. Then he didn’t. Just covered his hand with mine.
I kept driving.
“They’re assholes,” Reid said after we’d walked him through the condensed version. “But they’re not stupid. Smart enough to know when they’re outclassed, so credit where it’s due.”
He was perched on my couch, one ankle crossed over his knee and a glass of red in hand, lit up with that particular kind of satisfaction he got when he’d helped deliver justice.
“That sounds like them,” Naomi said. She’d kicked off her heels and tucked both feet under herself in an armchair, lipstick slightly faded, while Stellan sprawled at the other end of the couch from Reid, work shirt unbuttoned over a plain white T-shirt.
An hour later, my place. Music low, the city burning soft and gold beyond the windows, another bottle of wine open for the other three.
Reid and Naomi had somehow beaten us back here—too bad when I’d spent half the drive wanting to press Stellan up against the entrance wall and kiss him stupid the second we got inside. Never should have given Reid a key.
I poured sparkling water for myself.
“From still to sparkling?” Stellan asked me. “At this rate, you’ll be doing salt-rimmed margaritas in a nightclub by next Wednesday.”
Reid scoffed. “Please, he’d never. Too much sodium.” He waved a hand. “Anyway, sounds like they folded. No dignity involved, because that would suggest a spine. But they folded.”
“Felt like it.” Stellan’s mouth curved into something small and private, eyes a little tired from the week, but easier than when I’d found him on his bed three days ago.
Naomi set her glass down. “And, hey. If they somehow still decide to twitch, we’ve got options.”
“Oh, yeah.” Reid sounded almost delighted. “A beautiful list of names. Pretty, social people who think access is a natural right.”
“Been there,” Naomi said. “Thought that.”
“You’re not like them,” Stellan told her, and for a second, something flashed between them.
“Neither are you,” she said, much softer.
The room quieted, just briefly, before Reid dropped an acidic “Touching,” even as his eyes lost a hint of their sharpness.
“You’re a dick,” Naomi told him.
“Thank you,” he said. “Very much yes.”
“It wasn’t a compliment.”
“Felt adjacent.”
Stellan huffed a laugh. “I’m not sure getting you two into one room was a good idea.”
“It would be if we had popcorn,” I said, and he shot me a quick, warm look, then tipped his head back against the couch cushion as if he truly could relax.
Good. I was done watching him wound that tight.
“All right,” Reid said some minutes later, checking his phone. “Some of us have lives outside this apartment.”
Naomi rose with a stretch, smoothing down the front of her dress. “Speak for yourself. I’m heading home to exfoliate in a nice, warm bath.”
“Thank you for sharing,” Reid told her, but something in his tone made me think he wasn’t as indifferent as he liked to pretend. Hmm.
Naomi kissed Stellan’s cheek, then wiggled two fingers at me.
Reid followed her out, and then, suddenly, it was just Stellan and me.
The apartment settled around us, a low, beat-heavy song murmuring from the speakers, city lights outside, and wine glasses abandoned on the couch table.
Stellan moved to gather them, and I caught his wrist.
“I asked you to bring a change of clothes.”
His mouth softened, then tugged up on one side. “You did.”
“And did you?” I asked.
“What do you think?”
“I think you did.” I reached past him for the light switch, and the room dropped into darkness. My eyes needed a second before they adjusted to Seattle’s skyline glow and both of us breathing, my fingers still tight around his wrist.
“Wow,” Stellan said, sounding like he was trying not to laugh. “Subtle.”
“Not trying to be.”
I kissed him before he could come up with a response. No easing into it, no hesitation. I backed him toward the window, hands already under his tee, his skin warm, the lingering taste of wine on his tongue. His back hit the glass with a soft thud, and he pushed back against me.
Teeth, tongue. I ducked my head, his pulse jumping under my mouth. When I turned him around and shoved down his pants, grabbed for lube and a condom, his body opened under my slickened fingers like he’d been waiting, too.
First thrust. More. Fast and urgent, his breath fogging the window in little bursts while the city spread out below us.
I held his hips and fucked him in short, hard strokes, both his palms flat against the glass.
Gorgeous like this, his cheek turned, breath slightly ragged, skin hot under my hands.
I kept one spread over his stomach and felt his muscles tighten when I found the angle that made him lose his breath.
He came with my name in his mouth like it meant something. I fell moments later, my heartbeat somewhere in my throat, my forehead pressed between his shoulder blades.
Breath. Beats. Distant twinkle of city lights and traffic.
I kissed the back of his neck, open-mouthed and slow now. Stayed right where I was with my pulse easing into something light as rain, a distant thought catching in a corner of my mind. Trust, maybe. Slow at first, then suddenly everywhere.
“Shower?” I asked. “Then bed.”
“Yeah.” He turned his head for an easy brush of our lips. “That sounds good.”