Ruthless Creatures (Queens & Monsters, #1)(31)
I groan, resting a hand on my forehead. “This is too much for me. My idea of kink is leaving the lights on during missionary position.”
“Ugh. I know. It’s tragic.”
“I’ve gotta go. My meeting starts in a few minutes.”
“Happy hour tonight? I’ll be at La Cantina with Stavros and his buddies at five. You should bring Kage. See how that bull mastiff gets along with the other dogs.”
I’m about to decline, but it’s actually a good idea.
I’ve never seen Kage interact with anyone but Chris, and that wasn’t exactly under ideal circumstances. I can probably find out a lot about him by seeing him around other people. How he acts, what he says…
What he doesn’t say.
“Okay. I’ll ask him. I’ll text you if we’re coming.”
“Awesome. Can’t wait to see you, babe. And your luscious man. Don’t hate me if I wear something slutty.”
“I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.”
As soon as we hang up, I dial Kage’s number.
Not that I’d admit it to him, but I know it by heart.
I’ve spent an embarrassing amount of time staring at that business card he gave me with his phone number scrawled on the back. On the flip side is the contact information for a bespoke suit maker in Manhattan.
Kage would slay in a suit. I hope I never see him in one, because whatever willpower I have around the man would crumble instantly.
A handsome man in a well-fitted suit is my Kryptonite.
The line rings only once before it’s picked up. No one says anything, so I say hesitantly, “Hello? Kage? It’s Natalie.”
He says, “You called.”
His voice is gruff. He sounds pleased and surprised.
And here I thought I was a foregone conclusion.
“I did. I am. Hello.”
I should just shove my turkey sandwich into my mouth now so I don’t say something stupid. I can feel it coming on. He makes my brain turn to mush, like overcooked risotto.
“Hello yourself. I was just thinking about you.”
Heart, calm down. Get control of yourself. Jesus, you’re pathetic. “Oh?” I say, trying for a nonchalant tone.
“Yes. My dick is rock-hard.”
Aaand here comes the heat in my cheeks. Wonderful. I’ll be going into my meeting looking like I was just tossed over a table and shagged to within an inch of my life.
“May I ask you a favor?”
“Anything.”
“Would it be possible for you to dial it down a few thousand notches?”
“It?”
“Your blistering machismo. It really messes with my equilibrium. I honestly don’t know how to properly respond to the use of the word ‘dick’ within five seconds of the start of a conversation. Especially when it’s accompanied by ‘rock hard.’ I must’ve missed that day in etiquette class.”
There’s a pause, then he laughs. The sound is deep, rich, and altogether wonderful.
“You’re funny.”
“Is that a yes?”
“It’s a yes. Apologies. You just make me…”
“I know the feeling.”
“You don’t know what I was going to say.”
“Keyed up? Unsettled? Off balance? Confused?”
Another pause. “You did know what I was going to say.”
“I’m good that way.”
“With mind reading?”
“With naming emotions. It’s from all the therapy I’ve had.”
I stop and close my eyes, shaking my head at my own idiocy. I never had this problem with any of the men I’ve known, but around Kage, I can’t be trusted to open my mouth. Dumb things fly out in every direction.
“Did it help?”
He sounds interested, so I answer honestly. “Not really. I still felt like shit, I just had better adjectives to describe it.”
I hear some rustling on the other end of the line, like he’s moving around. Then he exhales. “I’m sorry you’ve had such a rough time.”
“Oh god. Please don’t feel sorry for me. I hate pity more than anything else in the world.”
“It’s not pity. It’s empathy.”
“I’m not sure they’re so different.”
“They are. One is condescending. The other is understanding what someone’s going through because you’ve been there. And you wouldn’t wish that kind of suffering on anyone else. And you wish you could make it better.”
His voice drops. “I wish I could make it better for you.”
Emotion wells in my chest, rising up to form a lump in my throat. After swallowing a few times, I say quietly, “In that case, thank you.”
After a moment when I don’t say anything else, he murmurs, “If it’s all right, I’d like to kiss you when I see you next.”
“I thought I was supposed to be making the first move.”
“You did. You called me. The ball’s in my court now. What do you say?”
I like it that he’s asking permission. He doesn’t seem like he’s a man who asks permission for anything.
“I say…probably. But I can’t guarantee it. My feelings around you are pretty unpredictable. I could want to kiss you one minute and push you into traffic the next. We’ll have to play it by ear.”