Chapter 11

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Maddie

“I am.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I hear the hurt lacing my voice. I just let this man touch me in ways no one has before. What little I thought I knew about him has been colored and I don’t know how to see him.

“Maddie,” he whispers and then he leans in to kiss me. I feel it coming and turn my head to the side so his lips land on my cheek. This conversation would be so much easier if I weren’t still mostly naked and pressed against his bare chest. “Try to understand.”

“I don’t. Not at all.”

His other hand settles just above the curve of my ass, his hand spreading out in a possessive hold that steals my breath. “Your date took my cousin.”

The air whooshes from my lungs. Because. Yeah. “I…”

“Imagine if it was Lucia,” he says and my stomach twists into knots.

“I…”

“It was an oversight on my part. I was not thinking clearly, I had a head injury, but I never lied to you. I introduced you to my brothers. I took you to my home. Do I seem like a man trying to hide truths from you?”

My arm wraps around his neck then, my fingers gliding over his hairline as I bite my lip. “No.”

He gives me a squeeze, though I swear I feel tension move through his muscles like a wave, down his body. “All right then.”

I swallow down a lump. “Thank you for catching me.”

He drops his forehead to mine, our breath mingling. “I’d never let you fall, Maddie.”

No tension this time, I feel the truth of the words right down to my bones. I’m melting into him then. Part of me still worries that I shouldn’t, but he offered to let Lucia live here. He caught me when I could have hurt myself, he…

He made me feel things no one has ever made me feel before. His mouth finds mine, and this time I don’t turn away. He gives me a soft, warm kiss that lingers and teases. It’s full of promise and, dare I say, affection, and it’s more than I ever imagined a kiss could be.

I have this thought that I could just give myself over to this man and damn the consequences. Whatever price I pay later will be worth the pleasure now.

His hands trace my hips, giving me a light squeeze at my waist and then skim up my ribs, his thumbs caressing the sides of my breasts.

I love the feel of him. His skin, the long length of his body, his large strong hands. I could drown in his touch.

He slides his hands up to my shoulders, down my arms and then over my back. Dipping lower, his palms caress the back of my legs before cupping my ass and pulling my hips into the cradle of his.

His tongue tangles with mine as the kiss goes on and on. I’m breathless with want as I wind my fingers into his hair, my body so open to him, I’m practically begging for more.

That’s when his phone rings. Again.

He doesn’t stop, the kiss lingering, but I feel the change as he slowly retracts, his body less molded to mine.

All too soon, he picks up his head, one of his hands leaving my body to grab the phone again. “Hello?”

I force myself not to sigh.

“Hey,” a male voice responds.

I don’t get this many calls in a month. Then again, maybe that’s a me problem.

“Jack. Hang on one second, Maddie’s about to get in the shower.”

Was I? I’m pretty certain I was being kissed like no woman ever has before. But Roman’s forearm wraps under my behind, lifting me with one arm, as he carries me to the bathroom.

“I can call back,” I hear Jack say into the line. “It’s Maddie I actually need to speak with.”

“Why’s that?” Roman asks, stopping.

I cock my head too, curious why Jack would wish to speak with me. “I found this cat…”

I give a small cry. “Is the cat injured?”

Roman puts the phone on speaker.

“I don’t know. I think so. He was lethargic behind one of the tires of my car when I came out this morning.”

“Where is the cat now?”

“In my car. I didn’t know what else to do.”

I’m tapping Roman’s shoulder. “We’ll need cat food. A crate. A litter box.” I keep ticking off the list of supplies, my fingers drumming against his skin.

“Why would we need cat food and a litter box?” Roman asks sounding mildly frightened. “Jack can take the cat to the vet hospital. They’ll?—”

But I’m frowning as I tap him again. Having something to care for, that would make this situation so much…easier. Normal. It’s what I do. I take in wounded creatures and I heal them. Or I try. Give them the life they might not have had if I hadn’t intervened.

“Can I just examine the cat? Please?”

“I’ll be over in twenty,” Jack says before Roman can answer.

I hop down from his arm, and reach my hand for the door, only needing to feel for the knob twice. I’m getting the hang of this place already. “Can you show me which bottle is the shampoo and which is the conditioner?” I say, making my way into the bathroom. “And how to turn the shower on.”

“Of course,” he says, following behind me. “Or…I could just help you wash your hair.”

I turn back to him, wrinkling my nose. “I can wash my own hair.”

“I know,” he answers, pulling me close. “But wouldn’t it be more fun if I helped?”

Heat infuses my cheeks as our bodies crush together again. I have got to get some clothes on, because every time my skin slides against his, I forget all my reservations and worries.

Which is how Roman ends up in the shower, peeling my underwear off right along with his. I can’t believe it. I’m completely naked with a man.

And not just any man.

Roman is the most of everything. Masculine. Rich. Powerful. It’s intoxicating and dangerous, and as he soaps up every inch of my body, I know I want more of him. Just like I know I shouldn’t.

His lips find mine again and we’re back to those kisses. The ones that feel like hugs and sex all at the same time. Sweet and intimate and yet they make me breathless with want.

By the time he’s washing my hair, I’m ready to beg him to take my virginity. Who needs it anyway?

That’ s when the damn phone rings again. I know mine is currently missing. And his phone is my one connection to Lucia. But I’m ready to toss that thing out the nearest window.

My body is humming again, the need to orgasm pulsing through me, even though I came like a half an hour ago, and I just want Roman all to myself.

“I’m guessing Jack is here.”

“Twenty minutes goes by quickly,” I murmur against his lips. “In the shower.”

He chuckles, low and deep. Intimate.

And then he helps me out, wrapping me in the fluffiest towel I’ve ever felt. The only thing I have to wear is my dress from my date.

Roman helps me into it, zipping up the back. “We’ll get you more clothes today.”

How will he do that? Will he go back to my place?

The elevator door dings, and Roman leads me out into the living room.

“Shit,” I hear Jack curse a moment before the scamper of paws on the hardwood sounds through the apartment.

“Where’s the cat?” Roman asks, his hand tightening around mine. “Jack? Where is the cat?”

“Ah, behind the couch, I think.”

I give a small laugh. That is very much what a cat would do. Because I live where I work, I don’t have cats or dogs. Too much risk with all the small animals who are my patients. But I’d love to have both.

My grandmother had, or likely still has, me on a list for a Seeing Eye dog. But the wait is endlessly long, and I’ve never pushed because of what I do for work.

It’s another reminder of how I’ve not moved forward in any metric for a long time.

“What’s our kitty look like?”

“Black and white. Big. Fierce-looking eyes.”

“Maybe a male then. If he’s large.” Letting go of Roman’s hand, I move to the couch and bend down slowly, making sure I’m not going to bump anything. “Did he go behind or under?”

“Under,” Jack answers.

Dropping to my knees, I press my face to the floor. “Hi there,” I croon, only to be met with a hissing growl.

“Oh. I see,” I say to the cat. “You’re not sure you’re ready to be friends.”

Sitting up, I call to Roman. “Got any tuna?”

“I do.”

A minute later, I put a small chunk just under the couch. Quick as a flash, a tiny paw darts out and the tuna is gone.

With a small laugh, I give the cat another piece. Then I sit up again. “We’ll get the cat out from under here, but it might take a bit.”

Jack rumbles a sound of regret. “Sorry, Roman. Should I wait?”

Roman shakes his head with a sigh. “No. The cat will stay until we can get him out from under the couch.”

I hear Jack mutter. Is he relieved? Regretting rescuing the cat? I’m not. Giving the cat another chunk of tuna, I call over my shoulder to Jack. “What’s wrong with the cat again?”

Jack clears his throat. “Seemed lethargic. It was just hanging out next to my car.”

“Hmm. Cat isn’t lethargic now. Then again, this is a new, scary environment.”

Neither man answers as I push up. “I’ll get some water. We ought to set up a litter box after all, just to save your floors.”

“Litter box?” Roman asks. “How long is the cat going to be under my couch?”

I shake my head. “Might be a few days. He’ll come out when he thinks it’s safe, but it might take us some time to build up enough trust to get him to come out in our company.”

I hear Roman sigh. “I’ll pick up a few supplies while I get your clothes.”

“Thank you, Roman,” I breathe knowing that the cat will give me something to focus on. Dropping to my knees again, I softly call to the cat, who does not come out but has stopped hissing. “Before you go,” I speak softly, still down on the floor. “Can we pull out the bed to see if my phone is behind it? That’s the only place I can think of.”

“Maybe you left it in Vigo’s car when we drove here?” He asks, the tenor of his voice changing again. “Like you did on your date?”

“No. I know I had it in the bathroom,” I answer and then I make a few kissing noises at the kitty. “If I can get the cat out and find my phone I can send a few pics to Lucia.”

“Use mine,” he answers quickly. “It’s no trouble. Since Jack is here, I’m going to have him help me pick up clothes and supplies, but I’ll only be gone a few hours. You can call me on his phone if you need me.”

Then he walks toward the kitchen. “Let me leave you a plate of food before I go. You should eat.”

I nod my thanks, completely intent upon the cat. While Roman is gone, I can compile a list of logical questions that help me better understand him and this crazy situation. But for the moment, it does me good to focus on the furball under the sofa. Something that has nothing to do with anything.

Or so I assume.