Page 44 of Caged Bliss

“Claudia.” He’s looking at me, just the outline of his face and one muscular arm visible in the gap between the curtain and the wall. “Stay in here.”

I open my mouth to say something defensive and snarky about how he’s a grown man and can clean himself, but the look he’s giving me makes me shut my mouth. It’s not exactly vulnerable, but there’s a need in his eye, and I sigh and sit down on the toilet. He nods and goes back to washing.

“Do you do this often?” I ask him.

“Which part? Shower? At least once a month.”

“No, asshole, I mean nearly get yourself killed.”

“Also at least once a month.”

I lean my face into my hands. “This is going to be a problem.”

“Which part? Is me showering at your place really that distracting?”

“No, I mean, you showing up whenever you want.”

“I don’t think that’s an issue.” He laughs quietly. “God, you have the girliest shit. I’m going to smell like fucking lilac.”

“I’m a girl, so yeah, that sounds right.” I get to my feet, annoyed. “If you’re just going to complain?—”

“Stay,” he says, looking at me. And fuck, water’s dripping from his gorgeous lips and along his cheekbones, and I sit my ass back down.

“Should you be nervous? About the dead guy?”

“That’ll be fine,” he says as water splatters on the floor. I picture him washing his hair, his muscular back working as his big hands lather his head. “I got rid of the gun before coming here and there aren’t cameras in that alley.”

“What about the other guy? The Roc guy?”

“He won’t turn me in. The second he did, half the city would want him dead. Don’t worry, it’ll be fine.”

“I’m not even sure why I’m asking. I mean, you’re a Bianco. You can probably buy a judge.”

He laughs as the water stops. “Tried that once. Didn’t work.” The curtain pulls back and I catch a glimpse of a toned and gorgeous body, soaking wet, his abs ripped, his thighs massive, his soft cock long and thick?—

And then I’m ducking away. “Oh, shit, warn me next time.”

“Don’t act like you’ve never seen a naked man before.” I hear him wrap the towel around himself as I get the hell out of there, head ringing with the vision of his sexy naked body, all wet and warm and gorgeous.

While he gets dressed, I make some tea and prepare the medical supplies. He comes out wearing my sweats, which are comically small on him, but at least they’re better than nothing—though I’m extremely aware of the outline of his big dick.

“Stop staring,” he says with a knowing smirk. “I feel objectified already.”

“Sit down, idiot, and let me wrap your arm.”

He obeys. I get to work, being as careful as I can. “Can I ask you something?”

“I just admitted to murdering someone to you, so yeah, you can ask me a question. I think there’s some trust between us now.”

“Why’d you come here? Instead of somewhere else?”

That seems to silence him. Angelo avoids my eye as I finish up with his arm, making sure it’s tight, and murmuring about still needing stitches in the morning.

“I wanted to see you,” he says after a while.

I stand there looking at him, my hand covering his hand. His fingers lace into mine, and he holds my gaze, his eyes glittering with lust and need, and a shiver runs down my spine as he tightens his grip on my hand. I think of his naked, wet body, of the outline of his big dick, of sleeping with him in the pitch-black darkness of the private room, and I can feel the shape of something strange beginning to form between us. Not a relationship, but not friends either. Not fuck buddies, and not really business associates. Something else, a category I don’t have a definition for yet, and it scares me. It freaks me out how much I like having him here, but also how afraid of him I am.

The kettle shrieks. I jump and he’s smiling at me like he thinks I’m ridiculous. I pour two cups of Earl Grey and we retreat to my couch where I sit with my feet in his lap, my heels practically right on the shaft of his cock. He rubs my toes absently while we drink.

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