Chapter 4
I pulled up at Kira's apartment complex. It was big enough that if I was spotted parked here or even seen going inside, there was no way anyone could know who I was visiting.
But I was still nervous.
This was about to breach the rules I'd lived by for years.
But there was something about him, his dark eyes, his smile…
There was something about him that had me sitting in my car, all nervous about going inside. Part of me was thinking this was reckless. He was too close to the guys at work, the gym, my real life. If it ended badly, or if he was careless with a look, a touch, a comment, he could expose me. He could out me.
I was waiting for the rational part of my brain to tell me to keep driving and forget about him.
But he was just as vulnerable as I was. He wasn't out at work either. He was keeping the same secret.
There was that something about him. Something I was drawn to the second I saw him. Maybe it was his black hair, his dark skin, his smile…
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The next thing I knew, I was walking across the street into his apartment building and knocking on door 7F.
"Ah, hang on," his voice called from somewhere inside.
Bouncing on my toes, I briefly asked myself what the fuck was I doing—when he opened the door.
And he was standing there.
Fuck.
Dark blue jeans, a white button down shirt—and bare feet.
"You're early," he said.
I looked at my watch. seven fifty-two PM. "You said eight?"
And when I looked at him, he was smiling. That steal-my-breath, make-my-dick-twitch kind of smile. I exhaled slowly, and he stood back, silently inviting me inside.
There were shoes at the door, and given he was barefoot, I took it he had a no shoe policy. I quickly pulled off my shoes and left them by the door, and when I looked up at him, he was still smiling.
His eyes glimmered. "I wasn't sure if you'd turn up."
I nodded. "Neither was I."
He grinned at me. I was nervous, and he could tell. I took a deep breath and looked into his apartment, looking
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for a distraction. It was nice, not huge, but light, tastefully decorated and clean—and something smelled fantastic.
"Something smells great," I told him.
"Something's gonna burn," he said, walking into the kitchen. "I hope you like paella."
My stomach growled, right on cue. "Um, yeah. I do, actually."
And when I followed him into the small kitchen, I could see the huge pan on the stove. "You cooked it?"
He stirred the pan and chuckled. "Sure did." He looked at me, and again, I was struck by how close we were… how alone we were.
"Want a beer or wine?" he asked. "Or there's soda or water. "He nodded pointedly toward the fridge, and I presumed I was to help myself.
There was an almost empty bottle of Sam's on the counter beside him, so I picked two from his fridge and handed him one. I figured the beer would relax me and give me something to do with my hands so my nerves didn't give me away.
He seemed to pick up on my nervousness—either
that, or I was just really obvious—because he started talking.
He talked about sports, his work, my work, and the guys at the gym as he dished up two plates of paella. By the
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time we were sitting at the table, I was much more at ease around him.
I still got lost when I looked at him. He took a mouthful of rice, and I was transfixed by the fork between his lips. He smiled as he chewed and swallowed. "Are you gonna eat it, or just watch me eat mine?" he asked, clearly amused.
Embarrassed, I shook my head and quickly shoved a forkful into my mouth. And oh my God, it was so fucking good.
I groaned.
He smiled.
"This is really good," I told him with a mouthful of food.
"You sound surprised," he laughed.
I swallowed and amended quickly, "Oh, no. I just meant this is better than a restaurant could do."
He smiled as he ate. "Family recipe."
"Spanish?" I'd wondered about his heritage, whether he was more Asian or European.
He nodded. "My dad's Spanish, my mom's
Japanese. I figured I'd play safe with paella instead of sashimi."
I think he was joking. It was kind of hard to tell, he smiled all the time. I smiled back at him. "I like sashimi,
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too," I told him as I scooped up another forkful of rice.
"But this is divine."
He smiled proudly. "I'm glad you like it."
We stared at each other then, and neither one of us spoke. I just looked at him. His dark, smiling eyes, his perfect eyes, his perfect lips…
His perfect, split, swollen lip.
"I'm sorry about your lip."
His hand automatically touched his mouth, and he smiled. "I'm not."
I raised my eyebrows in question, and he laughed.
"I got you to agree to dinner with me."
I chuckled and gave him a nod. "That you did."
He smiled again, picked up his beer bottle and clinked it to mine. "To split lips and dinner dates."
I couldn't help but smile as I tapped my bottle to his.
Kira smiled and started talking about how he got into fitness, how he'd traveled, and how he got started working at the gym. I found myself enthralled by his story, his voice, and the way his neck muscles moved under the collar of his shirt. Then I noticed, a little late, that he'd stopped talking.
I'd been caught staring again.
He lifted his eyebrows and smiled.
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Embarrassed, I huffed out a breath, and I could feel heat creep over my cheeks. Jesus. I shook my head and looked down to the table. Figuring I could use the distraction, I started to clean up.
"Leave it," he said.
"You cooked, I clean," I told him. "Fair's fair."
I put the dirty plates in the sink and turned the water on as I looked through the cupboard under the sink for the detergent. When I found it, I looked up, and he was watching me. He smiled at me, and without a word, picked up a dish towel, and started to dry.
He was right beside me. I could feel the heat of his body. I could smell his cologne, his deodorant, his scent. I tried to concentrate on what I was doing, but by the time I was done and wiped down the sink, I knew this was it.
I knew if he touched me or kissed me, I'd have crossed the work/personal life boundary with him. I'd be risking my comfortable, albeit closeted, life.
I could have quite easily thanked him for dinner and made an excuse to leave.
But I didn't want to.
When I looked at him, he gave me a shy smile…
God, those fucking lips.
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I turned back to the sink, trying to get myself together. His voice startled me. "If you want to leave, just say so."
I turned and looked at him. My heart was
hammering, my mouth was dry, and I had to swallow so I could speak. "I don't want to leave."
He stepped closer to me and reached his hand up to the side of my face. "I don't want you to go," he said quietly. And oh-so-fucking slowly, he leaned in and pressed his lips to mine.
I couldn't move.
I couldn't breathe.
His lips moved against mine, just a fraction, and then he pulled away.
There was hurt and confusion in his eyes. He
thought I didn't want this. "Don't you…?"
"Too much," I said without thinking. "I want this too much."
Then my hands were on his face, around his neck, and I kissed him.
Oh, fuck… how I kissed him.
My lips opened his, and my tongue invaded his
mouth. His lips, his tongue, his taste…
He groaned.
That sound… my God, that sound.
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Then his hands were on me and his arms were
around me. I could feel him, all of him. It felt so fucking good.
Desire.
His need, hard against mine.
Just when I thought I didn't want this to ever end, he pulled his mouth from mine.
I was so torn.
I wanted him to take me to bed. I wanted that with him.
But I wanted something more.
I wanted to get to know him, I wanted that with him. I knew it was far too soon to be thinking relationship, but I wanted something more with him. Once wouldn't ever be enough.
Like he understood, he smiled. "Whew," he exhaled with a laugh. "That… um… I thought for a minute I'd read the wrong signs. I thought at first when you didn't kiss me back…"
I chuckled, a little embarrassed at my reaction to him. "It's not very often I'm rendered catatonic by a kiss."
He laughed. "You certainly weren't catatonic the second time."
I blushed again. Jesus, what was it about this guy?
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He touched the side of my face with the pad of his thumb. "So the city's toughest cop isn't that tough after all,"
he said quietly. "In fact, he's quite shy." He leaned in and pressed his lips to my already heated cheek. "This blush gives you away."
I didn't answer. Well, I couldn't answer. The words wouldn't come.
"Normally, I'd um…" He shrugged. "Well, normally I'd just ask you if you wanted to fuck." My eyes widened at his blatant words, and he smiled. "But I don't want to."
Oh.
I felt the stab of disappointment twist in my gut.
"Oh, no," he said, alarmed. He wrapped his hand around my jaw and pulled my face toward his. "What I meant is that yes, I want that. I really want that." He pecked my lips with his. "But I want to get to know you, too."
Ohhhh.
I huffed out a breath, relieved. I nodded. "Me too."
He grinned, and kissed me soundly. Sweetly. When he pulled away, he took a step back, putting some distance between us. He chuckled and shook his head—he seemed as surprised by the attraction between us as I was.
"I have classes in the morning," he said. "But I'm free for lunch."
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He wanted to see me tomorrow. I smiled, but then I remembered… "I, uh, I can't risk being seen out with a guy.
I'm sorry."
"That's okay," he said genuinely. "You can bring lunch here. I'll be home by noon."
I couldn't help but smile. "Deal."
"Look, Matt," he said my name so softly. "I know you're worried about the guys finding out. But I promise you this," he looked at me so intently. "They won't hear it from me."
I didn't know what it was about him, but his eyes—I could see only honesty in them. I nodded, and before I was plagued by thoughts of it-won't-be-long-before-he's-sick-of-hiding, he asked me to give him my phone.
He laughed at my expression and rolled his eyes.
"Are all cops so suspicious?"
Well, yes. Mostly. But I handed him my cell phone regardless. He worked his thumb over the screen and showed me. He'd put in his number under the name Kira.
"Now I know you've got my number," he said. He pressed the call button, and the phone on the counter, his cell phone, rang. He grinned. "And now I've got yours."
"If anyone reads the name Kira," he went on to say,
"they'll just think it's one more female admirer."
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"Thank you, Kira," I said, and he smiled when I called him by his given name. Though I'm not exactly sure what I was thanking him for—dinner, for taking a chance on me, for being so understanding. Or all three. "You're being very… gracious."
He shook his head. "Like I said before, we're keeping the same secret."
I stared at him. I could see the rise and fall of his chest, but I was lost in his eyes. I touched the side of his face, and his lips curled upward.
The words were out before I could stop them. "You have such a beautiful smile." I kissed his smiling lips, just a quick peck, and then another.
"I should go," I told him. "If I don't go now, you'll be cooking me breakfast."
He chuckled, and his hand rested on my hip. "I wouldn't mind at all."
He smiled when I groaned. "Don't tempt me."
He laughed quietly, but his smile died and his eyes intensified. He murmured, "What is it about you?"
Then it was my turn to chuckle. "I was just thinking the same thing."
And somehow, with the self-control and willpower I didn't know I had, I kissed him once more and left.
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