Movement behind him caught my eye. I tensed until I realized it was a small gray cat with white paws.
“Meow,” the creature said as it twined around Lane’s legs. Lane smiled up at me as he bent and scratched the cat’s ears.
“The brief didn’t mention you had a cat.”
“This is Mittens.” He scooped the cat up in his arms. “Mittens, meet Giorgio.”
I started to say hi, then stopped myself. “Where was Mittens the other night?”
He smirked. “So you do remember?”
“Of course I fucking remember, but I didn’t see a cat that night.”
“She was hiding. She doesn’t like noise or chaos.”
There had certainly been plenty of noise. He’d made such gorgeous sounds as I’d fucked him. I wanted to hear them again. What would he do if I shooed the cat away and told him to get on his knees right there in his studio? He looked up, and our eyes locked. I was sure he knew what I was thinking, and that he’d do whatever I ordered him to—get on his knees or give me his ass—as long as it was sexual and didn’t have to do with keeping him safe.
“Have you arranged for someone to watch Mittens while you’re gone?”
Lane frowned and shook his head. “I’m not leaving her here.”
“So you’re boarding her somewhere?”
“No, she’s coming with us.”
I shook my head. “That’s not an option.”
“I’m not leaving her. If I would be in danger here, that means she would be too.”
“Hendon is not after your cat.”
“If he wants to punish me for ignoring him, he might hurt her.”
Lane had a point. “Find someone who will keep her for you. Maybe your mother?”
“No. My mother doesn’t do pets.”
I could easily see that. “What about your vet? Do they board?”
“I’m not having her stay in a kennel for days. How long will we be gone?”
I sighed. “I don’t know exactly. A couple of weeks?”
He huffed. “No way is she staying in a cage that long. She’s coming with us.”
“My focus has to be on protecting you. I don’t need a distraction.”
“I’m not asking you to take care of Mittens. I’ll take care of her.”
Things were already sliding out of my control. That was one reason we didn’t take jobs like this. “If something happens and we need to get out of there fast, we can’t have a cat with us.”
“I thought we were going to the cabin because it was safe?”
“Safer. Nowhere is ever completely safe.”
He blew out a breath. “Fine. I’ll ask my neighbor if she can keep Mittens.”
“Do that, then keep packing. I’m going to step out onto the balcony and talk to my boss.”
“Are you going to tattle on me and tell him I’m difficult and ask for someone else to come in your place?”
I fought back my anger. “Wouldn’t that be easier for both of us?”
“Easier, maybe, but not as fun.”
“Lane, I—”
He held up his hand. “I get it. Hands off. I’m the client now, not a hot boy at the club in need of rescue.”
“I didn’t go home with you that night because I thought you needed to be rescued. I don’t—”
“You totally got off on it. Don’t try to tell me you didn’t. And it’s okay. I like that you did.”
How did he know that? “If I got off on rescuing people, I’d have a hell of a lot of complaints about how unprofessional I am. Do you know how many complaints I’ve had?”
He raised his brows and continued to look at me like he could see right through me. How the fuck did he have me on the defensive?
“None. That’s how many.”
“But after you’ve helped someone, when the job is finished, you need a good hard fuck, don’t you? Isn’t that what you were doing with me?”
“Enough!”
His eyes widened, then he smiled. “Now that’s the voice I like.”
I pointed toward his bedroom. “Go. Pack. Now.”
“Come on, Mittens.” He tickled the cat under her chin. “Let’s do what the big, mean man says.”
“Wait. I need a key so I can lock the door while I check out the building.”
Lane reached into his pocket and pulled one out. “Here you go.”
“Thank you, now—”
“I’ll be a good boy while you’re gone.”
He flounced off, and I squeezed my hands into fists. After a few attempts at calming breaths, I headed down to the street and pulled out my phone to call X. I still didn’t know what I was going to say.
6
Lane
The door banged shut behind Giorgio, and I heard the lock turn before his feet pounded down the stairs. He was pissed off, but all I could do was smile.
I shouldn’t be so eager to get to him. He was right. I was his client, and the right thing—the professional thing—would be for him to keep his hands off me, but there was no way I could spend days or weeks alone with him knowing how incredible his body felt against mine, how perfectly his dick stretched my ass, how good he tasted, and not touch him.