Model Bodyguard (Haven Investigations Book 2) Read online

  “You guys are lucky I’ve had cats before,” I told them.

  “You just got a tattoo of a cat,” Ollie pointed out. “You like cats.” The little black ball of fluff inched his way up into Ollie’s lap, big eyes blinking up at him. Ollie stroked him and scratched behind his ears. The cat began to purr. “Oh my God, Kade. Do you hear him? He’s so cute. And he’s sitting on me. Does that mean he likes me?”

  “He’s about nine months old. The Humane Society gave him a temporary name, but you can change it. Give him something permanent,” Tyler told us. “Cats are said to have a calming influence. They help people with PTSD, depression, anxiety, and a whole slew of other mental illnesses.”

  “You got us a cat to help us relieve stress?” I asked them, incredulous.

  “We thought maybe you guys could start with the cat, and in a few months you can maybe babysit for us,” B said quietly.

  Ollie’s eyes went huge. “Babysit?”

  B smiled. “We’re pregnant.”

  “You’re pregnant?” he repeated, as though trying to get his head to wrap around the thought. He stood up and gently placed the cat on the floor. “Like with a baby? A real baby?”

  “Of course a real baby!” Britney gave him a horrified look. “What did you think I’d have, kittens?”

  “You did give us a cat,” he pointed out.

  She scowled at him, but he opened his arms and she threw herself into his embrace. “OMG! You’re pregnant. I’m gonna be an uncle. Sorta, whatever.” Ollie hugged her and soothed a hand down her back. They both rocked back and forth in a little dance they did whenever they were both really happy.

  “Congrats.” I reached out to shake Will’s hand, but he dragged me into a hug in his usual bone-crushing grip. “I know you guys have been trying for a while.” He thumped me on the back a few times and let me go. I knew about cats. I didn’t know much about pregnant women. “So you got us a cat to prepare for a baby?”

  Will rolled his eyes. “B thought Ollie could use company when you’re out chasing crazies. We figure you’re not ready for kids on your end yet, but a cat.” He shrugged. “They’re pretty independent. Just some food, clean litter, and cuddles. All things Ollie needs too. One more thing to come home to.”

  “Did you just say I need clean litter?” Ollie asked, finally letting go of B.

  Will winked at him. “I gotta get back to work.” He waved to Tomas and Tyler. “You guys promised to bring B home for me.”

  “Will do,” Ty promised.

  I was surprised at their civility. But maybe that was the baby bringing that on. Bold new world and all that. “Um, wow,” I said as Britney stared at me until I opened my arms to give her a careful hug. “How far along are you? I guess Tomas and Ty already knew?”

  “She told me,” Tomas admitted. “She was trying to keep it all secret from Ollie until she was sure and had the right time and all that, but I just had to tell Ty because it’s so exciting. It’s like wow, baby! There’s going to be a baby. I love babies.”

  Ty shook his head. “And my boyfriend likes to talk.”

  “Just under three months in. We were waiting for all the tests to come back clean. We wanted to be sure,” B told me.

  I let go of B long enough to let Ollie join our hug.

  “A baby,” he whispered.

  She nodded. “So you gotta take good care of this cat for me.”

  “That makes no sense,” Ollie said. “A cat is nothing like a baby.”

  “Not true. They depend on us for food and comfort.” B ran her hands through Ollie’s hair. “And I like the idea of you having something else here when Kade isn’t. Not for protection, but comfort. Will wanted to get you a dog.”

  “Dogs are a lot of work. I don’t think either of us would have enough time to care for a dog properly right now.” Not with our current caseload, and Ollie finally getting back into designing. I let them go and bent down to give the cat a chance to sniff me. “So what do you want to name him, Ollie? Maybe we should call him Oliver2.”

  Ollie snorted. “Don’t be ridiculous. Oliver is a horrible name. Even for a cat.”

  “I like your name,” I told him. The cat eyed me warily but came closer so I could scratch under his chin. He closed his eyes in happiness and thumped his little tail like it was a mallet pounding the floor instead of a tiny rope of fluff.

  “We could call him the Cheshire cat. After your tattoo.” Ollie suggested.

  “We’re all a little mad here,” Tyler said. “I’m mad, he’s mad, you’re mad.”

  I shook my head. “He doesn’t seem like a crazy cat. He’s pretty docile.” Enough to let me pick him up and hold him. Okay he had me too. Dammit.

  “How about you guys think on it. We’re going to take B home. Let you get the cat settled,” Ty said.

  B and Ollie parted finally, both of them with their eyes shining with tears. At least these were tears of joy. “I’ll call you tomorrow afternoon. Give you the details, show you the scans.” She looked at me and the cat in my arms. “You have a new kid to take care of yourself.”

  There was another round of hugs, and finally we walked everyone out. The cat was now perched on my shoulder like some sort of black parrot.

  “I’ve never seen a cat do that before,” Ollie pointed at the cat.

  “He’s a tree cat,” I told him.

  He narrowed his eyes at me. “What? Is that a real thing?”

  “Two kinds of cats, bush cats and tree cats. This one likes to be up high. So tree cat. We’ll need to get him a cat tower or two.” I made work of setting out the litter box in the downstairs half bath. We’d probably need one on the upper floors somewhere too. The cat balanced on my shoulder the entire time, little claws digging in, just not very deep. “We should call him Parrot.”

  “That’s a silly name for a cat.” Ollie followed me around. Watching me fill up the food and water bowls and put them in the kitchen near the patio door, but out of the way so it wouldn’t get bumped. His hands were flexing at his sides with a need to touch.

  I almost snorted, copying Ollie’s reaction, in realization. Ollie was a sensualist. He loved to touch. Our friends had gotten us a cat. A very small, very fluffy, and very soft cat. I leaned forward, urging the cat to move onto Ollie’s shoulder. The cat immediately wrapped itself around his neck like a scarf. Ollie froze, eyes going wide as saucers. I laughed. “He likes you.”

  The clock read quarter to ten. Where had the day gone? And damn I was tired. I pulled Ollie close enough to slide my lips over his. “How about we call it an early night?”

  He blinked at me and pointed to the cat. “What about him?”

  I let Ollie go so I could lock the doors and set the alarm. I wouldn’t be able to arm it for movement anymore, just for the breach of the doors and windows. “He has a whole house to explore.”

  The cat jumped down as we headed for the stairs. Ollie watched him for a few seconds.

  “We’ll keep him inside. Anywhere but the garage should be okay. I’ll pick up a few more litter boxes tomorrow. Maybe a cat tree or something for him to climb on.”

  “We’re really keeping him?”

  “You don’t want to?”

  He was quiet for a minute. Probably going through all the arguments he’d ever had with Nathan about pets. “I don’t know anything about caring for a cat,” he finally said.

  “Good thing I do. Plus you’re kind of smart, so I think you’ll be okay.” I winked at him.

  “Kind of smart?” He sounded incredulous. “First I use litter, now I’m only kind of smart?”

  I laughed and tugged him to follow me. Upstairs in his room, Ollie stripped, throwing things on the floor, which I promptly picked up and sorted into piles. Tomas took things to the dry cleaners for us once a week. Most everything else I washed because I liked having a set schedule to things, and Ollie only did the laundry when he ran out of things to wear, which was almost never.

  He left on only a pair of royal blue lace undies whic
h hugged his perfect ass, outlining the bottom of his succulent globes. The lace showed surprisingly little in front. They were made for men, meant to cup and support rather than the free-form bounce of the boxers or even regular briefs. I’d never owned lace underwear. The fabric was soft, not scratchy as I’d have expected, almost silky. Usually I wore a jock. The less fabric against my damaged hip, the better, but I couldn’t do commando, too much flapping in the breeze, and denim against my cock just bothered me. Maybe Ollie could find a lace jock for me to try. As long as it was soft I was open to it.

  I cupped his ass with my hands, unable to resist any longer, and pulled him close so I could rub my groin against his. He sighed into my lips, his cock hardening with just that little stimulation. His undies would become restrictive if he kept them on. “You are so fucking beautiful,” I told him.

  “Hmm,” he hummed and wrapped his arms around my neck pulling me close. His lips opened for a kiss, and I delivered, diving in to taste him.

  He flinched and pulled back. “Yuck.”

  “Crap. I forgot I ate meat.” I let him go. “Be right back.” There was a slight scratching at the door. “Let the cat in,” I told him as I went into his bathroom and found my toothbrush. A moment later I was foaming up and the cat appeared on the counter next to me. “Hi,” I told it with a grumble. He stared into the water for a minute, and even raised a paw toward my toothbrush. “Don’t think about it, buster.”

  I bent to spit into the sink, and the cat landed on my back, digging his claws in deep. “Shit. Ow.” The cat then jumped to the top edge of the door, making the door thump hard against the wall but somehow keeping his balance on the tiny edge.

  Ollie entered the room with his Taser in hand, ready for some kind of attack. He’d have to get used to the cat. He looked from me to the cat, back to me and then the cat. “What’s he doing? Should I help him down?” He put the Taser down and reached for the cat, but the cat backed away and instead chose to rub his head against the top of the door and swipe at Ollie.

  “So the cute and cuddly was all an act?” I asked the cat. I shook my head, then swirled around some mouthwash to ensure I got all the offending meat taste out of my mouth. Ollie still stood in the doorway looking a little panicked. “Did you leave your bedroom door open a little?”

  He nodded.

  “We’ll put a cat door in it or something so you don’t have to leave it open all the time.” I dried my hands. Picked up his Taser and walked past him into the bedroom.

  “But what about….” He waved his hand at the cat.

  “He got up there. He can get down just fine. It’s what cats do best. Get into high places.”

  “Are you sure?”

  I peeled the gauze off my arm. Should have done it hours ago, but I’d been too distracted. I needed to put lotion on the tat. “He can jump to the countertop. He’ll be fine. I promise. Can you grab me some lotion? Something without aloe.” Aloe could fade the color of a tattoo.

  He blinked at me a moment longer, standing in the bathroom doorway with the cat waving a paw at his head, before finally disappearing inside for a minute, then coming out with the lotion I normally used. He handed it to me. I sat down on the bed and rubbed the lotion into the tat. Tomorrow my whole arm would probably begin to feel it. It didn’t hurt really. More like a really mild sunburn, sort of tight, and slightly sore. Then would come the itching. I hated that part the most.

  I finished my arm and looked up to realize he was still standing there staring at me, expression lost but needy. Not sex really. Though I could have turned it to that, but I think what he really needed was just to be shown he was mine, not Jacob’s. “Baby?”

  He shook himself. “Sorry. I guess I’m more tired than I thought I’d be.”

  Emotionally tired. Almost numb if I had to garner a guess. I didn’t point out neither of us had gotten much sleep the prior night, just pulled him into my lap. “How about you relax and I give you a massage?”

  “You probably need one more than me. Your limp was bad coming up the stairs so your hip must hurt a lot. Let me take care of it.” He reached for my jeans, but I grabbed his hands and pulled them away so I could get up and shimmy out of the pants. I stripped off the shirt and left the jock. Ollie just stared at my groin for a minute, a frown on his face. I wasn’t hard. It wouldn’t take much to get me hard, but we’d had plenty of sex in the past twenty-four hours. Sometimes I think Ollie still believed that sex equated to love, when it didn’t. Probably too many past lovers who thought just that. Hell, the whole world was filled with people who thought love and sex were the same. I wanted him for more than sex. I loved every bit of him. Even the tiny parts he tried to hide from me.

  “Lie down on your stomach,” I told him.

  He frowned at me, but did as I asked, stretching out on the bed. His body was long and lean, carved of elegant muscle and golden skin, sort of like a dancer. I loved the taste of him, the feel of his peach-fuzz flesh pressed to my war-battered body. He wasn’t particularly wide in the shoulder, nor did he have the typical V that a lot of twinks worked for. His stomach and hips were flat, with the bones no longer jutting out. I could still outline them with my fingertips if I needed to, and he could probably gain another ten or so pounds. But he was healthy. Luminescent. Mine.

  His back was supple and smooth to the curve of his luscious ass, which was really the only curve to him. Some guys had no ass. Just flat planes leading to strong legs. Ollie never modeled underwear, but he could. I dreamed of his ass. Not just because I got to fuck him, but because I loved to hold it in my hands, lift the weight of him, and feel the swell of his bottom against my thighs, hip, or cock. I could suck one of his luscious cheeks into my mouth. Lick the firm globe until he squirmed with pleasure. Ollie loved ass play. He loved my mouth on him. I could make him come just by rimming him. He was obsessively clean, and waxed hairless, which made his skin super sensitive.

  I’d done the Brazilian thing once a few months back. Thought it couldn’t be that big a deal since Ollie did it all the time and never complained. However, I’d screamed like they were killing me. In concept I guess I understood the hot wax and ripping hair part, but in practice it was torture. Probably better than waterboarding. And afterward I’d felt so weird. Naked, even in clothes.

  Ollie had been weirded out too, though I knew he wouldn’t admit it. He did ask me not to wax again. He liked all my body hair, even the stray strands that grew on only one side of my chest. It was totally fine with me because I couldn’t imagine going through the process ever again. I’m pretty sure my leg had hurt less right after the bomb than having hair ripped off my balls.

  I kissed a light trail down his spine. He shuddered, goose bumps forming along his skin. I grinned, climbed on the bed, straddling his hips, and rested my weight on my calves over his legs. I squirted some of the lotion onto his back, bringing him into the moment. He shivered and let out a small “eep” sound. I leaned forward and began to rub the cold lotion into his skin, starting with his shoulders, warming him and the fluid as I worked it in.

  “Cold,” he whispered.

  “I’ll warm you up,” I told him and blew a warm breath across the oiled flesh. He was tense. Really tight. It’d been months since he’d wound himself into a ball of coiled muscles. This had to be all from Jacob’s arrival back in his life. He had some really shitty people in his past. Not that I didn’t, but at least mine hadn’t started showing up. “I’m right here, baby. Not going anywhere. It’s just you and me.” And the stupid cat, who I could still hear rubbing himself along the top of the door.

  Slowly Ollie began to ease, tension pouring out of him like a stopper pulled out of a wine bottle. He closed his eyes, letting his head sink into the pillow where it rested against his cheek, and just breathed. He wasn’t quite asleep by the time I got to his hips and that sweet ass of his, but it was close. A few small touches and I could have ignited his passion, turned his relaxation into sex, hungry and fierce, but I decided he needed to be fi
nished in another way.

  His thighs were strong and silky just like the rest of him. I dug my fingers into the meat of his muscles, pulling little noises from him that were mostly pleasure, and a little bit pain. The more time he spent in heels, the more his legs hurt. Not like mine of course, but I knew the muscles well enough to work each one until he was putty in my hands.

  I kissed the back of each knee and moved on to his calves, and his feet beyond, going easy on his arches as he was very ticklish and sensitive when it came to his feet. Dig into the wrong muscle and he’d go rigid with pain. Right now he was jelly. Grumbling, half-asleep jelly, but his contented purrs were exactly what I’d been wanting.

  “Love you,” he mumbled, eyes only open a slit to stare at me.

  “I love you too,” I told him, set the lotion aside and turned off the light before curling around him and pulling the blanket over both of us. Him nestled in my arms was exactly what we both needed.

  “No sex?” he asked, sounding somewhat disappointed.

  “Tomorrow,” I promised. “We both need rest.” I picked up his phone and put it on my side of the bed. No more 3:00 a.m. calls from a demanding ex-lover.

  “K,” he mumbled, his breath already deep and even as he teetered on the edge of sleep.

  There was a scrape and a loud thump. The cat sauntered out of the bathroom. I sighed, since he’d made me jump. Ollie hadn’t moved. “Told you he could get down on his own.”

  He laughed softly. “We should call him Newton. What goes up must come down.”

  I grinned, kissed his cheek, and nodded. “Newton it is, then.”

  Chapter Six

  THE MORNING had me up by just after five and out the door less than an hour later. Ollie was still fast asleep with Newt curled up beside him on his pillow. I kissed Ollie’s cheek, and the cat put a possessive paw on Ollie’s head just before I turned and sneaked out of the room.

  “He’s mine, cat. I was here first,” I informed our new pet. Newt nestled his nose into the crown of Ollie’s head, ignoring me. “Dissed by a cat.”