Navigating back to the end of the thread, my fingers fly across the screen as I send a message as Ansel. Hopefully, I’ve captured his voice and nothing tips Neo off.
I hit send and power the device off, handing it back to Wylder. He places it in his drawer and locks it. “There, now you can let your boyfriend know Neo believes he’s safe.”
Believes.Wylder might not trust Ansel, but I do. Nothing bad is going to happen to my butterfly. Not while I have breath in my body.
I don’t argue with what Wylder calls Ansel. If I get my way, that’s the title he’ll have shortly. Yes, I might be moving fast, but apparently being kidnapped will do that for a guy. For me, at least.
“He’ll be pleased.”
“He better be. After this shit, he better be happy he’s alive.”
I don’t like that tone of voice, but I dismiss it. Because Wylder’s right. Ansel’s mistake in capturing me is going to put a strain on the family, on The Firm. Because I’m going to insist we find whoever threatened him and take them apart.
Piece by piece.
I’m back at Ansel’s side as he wakes up. “Afternoon, butterfly.”
He squints at me, hair disheveled, a crease on his cheek from the couch cushion.
“What time is it?”
“Lunchtime.” I gesture to the tray waiting on the coffee table. “Gotta get you fighting fit so you can tell me all your secrets.”
He eyes me warily as he sits up, the blanket pooling in his lap. “What secrets?”
I hand him a glass of water and wait until he drinks half. “Just little things, like what your favorite food is. Your ideal date. Who threatened you into kidnapping me and why. The small things.”
Ansel chokes on the water, his cheeks reddening. I gently pat him on the back and wait for him to compose himself.
“I can’t…” he rasps. “I’m not dragging you into my mess. I mean it, Cade.”
I grin widely, making him frown in confusion.
“What?”
“I just love the sound of my real name on your lips.” I lean forward to peck said lips. Then I kiss him deeper, because a peck just isn’t enough.
My tongue pushes into his mouth, sliding against his, my hand moving into his hair and tugging slightly. He groans, and so do I, my cock swelling between us. I want him to reach down and touch it, to press it between his lips and suck. But I don’t make him—won’t make him do anything he’s not ready for.
Instead, we just make out, his soft moans making me absolutely feral.
He must be feeling well with the way he’s mewling. He sounds like a cat in heat.
My hands slide down and lift him up, placing him on my lap, dragging his hips forward, and letting him grind against me.
Not really doctor’s orders, but so what? It’s what makes him feel good, and that can’t be bad, right?
But suddenly he pulls away, the two of us panting, lips glistening and swollen.
“You’re distracting me,” he whispers, dragging his hips up against my hard cock and making me bite my bottom lip.
“Mmm, well, you’re a major distraction. I can’t help myself.”
He glances at me shyly and then runs his finger across my lips.
“I can’t believe this is my life right now.”
“Believe it, butterfly.”
