Page 33 of Deadly Little Sparrow

“Lucky for you, my apartment does include a shower,” I say as I usher him into the elevator and press the button for the top floor.

“With hot water?” he asks in a reverent whisper.

I glance down at him, cocking an eyebrow at the question. “Sure. Hot, cold, my pipes can do it all.”

He lets out a groan that’s so charged it wakes my cock up with a dizzying twitch. I lean in and press my nose against the crook of his neck, breathing in the familiar bergamot and leather scent that’s imprinted itself onto every part of me. He whimpers and tilts his head, giving me more access to the fluttering pulse point on the side of his throat and the slender stretch of his neck. I press soft, greedy kisses along his warm skin, paying special attention to the spots where bruises in the shape of Riff Raff’s fingers are already blooming. Every quiet sound he makes vibrates through my bones, until we reach my floor and the doors slide open.

I lead him inside, stopping just inside the door to stoop at his feet. He wobbles and braces his hands on my shoulders as I work the knots loose on the tattered laces of his dirty sneakers and slip them off. They’re completely at odds with the row of expensive shoes I line them up next to, but they manage to look right at home there anyway. Or maybe that’s just because I like the thought of my fiery little bird right here in my apartment, his things mixed up with mine.

I get to my feet and nudge my shoes off as well. They’re likely past saving at this point now that the blood has had hours to soak in, but I set them in line with the rest anyway to deal with later.

“You know, you don’t have to be so nice to me just because I got strangled by a tweaker,” Sparrow says, reaching up and ghosting his fingertips over his tender throat.

“I’ve been nice to you since the night we met. You’re the one who broke my nose,” I point out.

“Huh.” The sound is half amused, half surprised as he seems to turn my words over in his head for a few seconds. “You really have been nice to me this whole time. Even when I’ve been a pain in the ass. Why?”

I step closer, sliding my hands under his jacket and easing it off his shoulders. He lets me take it from him, waiting through my silence with curious eyes fixed on my face.

“You really want to know why?” I ask seriously, draping his jacket over my arm. He nods and I lean in to brush my lips against the shell of his ear. “It’s because I like you, Little Sparrow,” I whisper.

He chuckles. The sound is warm, rattling through me and settling into my bones the same way his moan in the elevator did. He sways closer to me, undoing the button on my jacket and then reaching under it to slide it off my shoulders the same way I did with his.

“I kind of like you too,” he confesses, and a grin tugs at my lips.

“Thank fuck for that. Otherwise the stalking and kidnapping would’ve been way out of line.”

He nods, biting back his own smile as I shrug out of my jacket.

“Speaking of stalking… how did you know where I was tonight?”

“Oh, come on now.” I tut. “A little mystery keeps the romance alive. Everyone knows that.”

Sparrow narrows his eyes at me. “Tell me,” he says, his tone tipping over into ball-tingling Dom territory.

I bring my face close to his, the tips of our noses bumping. His eyelids droop but stay open, a victorious smile already starting to spread over his lips.

“No,” I whisper, pressing a quick kiss to his lips and then ducking out of the way with restrained laughter.

He grumbles, and I’m pretty sure I catch the word ‘spanking’ mumbled under his breath as I hang our coats side by side in my hallway closet. My cock swells again at the thought. He can threaten me with a good time as much as he likes, it doesn’t mean I’ll tell him about the tracker.

“Come on.” I spin him around and point him toward my bedroom and the attached bath where I keep the meager first aid kit that doesn’t hold a candle to the one Enzo keeps on hand.

With all the excitement of the night, I completely forgot about the baby Moretti passed out drunk on my couch. His quiet snores reach my ears as we pass the living room, making Sparrow’s steps slow as he cranes his neck to get a look at who’s in there.

“Forgot to send your other boyfriend home before coming to my rescue?” he teases.

I snort. “That would be Elio Moretti, younger brother and second in command to Lorenzo.”

Sparrow’s eyes flicker to the trashcan I left next to the couch and the water on the table. “Drinking problem?”

I make a noise in the back of my throat. “I wouldn’t go that far. It all just weighs on him a little too much and he goes off the deep end for a minute every once in a while. Sometimes it’s just a one-night bender, other times it lasts a week or so. He always sorts himself out though.”

He nods in understanding and keeps walking, down my dim hallway with my hand on his lower back. The warmth of his skin calls to me, even with his t-shirt still in the way, absorbing too much of his heat before it can reach me.

I open the bedroom door and he sweeps his gaze over the space without comment, taking in the floor-to-ceiling windows and my massive bed in the center of the room, adorned with black silk sheets and a custom-made frame with restraint attachments. He might be the first man I’ve ever actually submitted to, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t fantasized about the idea for longer than I’d like to admit.

I flip on the bathroom light as we step inside. Unlike the bedroom, this room does get a reaction from Sparrow, but not because I paid extra for heated marble floors and the extra large soaking tub taking up the far wall. He lets out a laugh, sweeping his eyes over the grooming products scattered haphazardly over the sink and the damp towel draped over the half-wall ledge next to the toilet. He approaches the tube of toothpaste that’s oozing its contents onto the white countertop.

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