Clinch (The Underground Book 2) (14 page)

Her mother might hate what she was doing, but her grandfather would be proud. She knew he was smiling down at her from heaven every day. And that propelled her to continue on her path any time she had even one doubt.

Leo opened the various containers of Chinese and scurried around grabbing utensils and plates. He pointed at a chair and nodded. “Sit.”

Katie giggled. “You’re going to wait on me too?”

He frowned as he kicked the fridge closed and returned with a beer for himself and a diet soda for her. The forced expression on his face didn’t match the realization that this woman,
his
woman, stocked his favorite kind of beer. She might not realize she was his yet, but she would.

Now he just needed to sweet-talk her into letting him stay the night, and the next night and the next. It was going to be a balancing act trying to play it off as no big deal. He didn’t want her to know he thought she might be in danger. At least not yet. He’d put that off as long as possible to avoid freaking her out. And he also didn’t want to scare the hell out of her by insinuating they were a serious item yet.

She wasn’t the type of woman to sleep around, so he wasn’t worried about that, but he was concerned about making her feel rushed or pressured to make what they had together a real thing. Verbally.

“It’s not some written rule that you should do all the cooking and I should reap all the delicious benefits,” he said as he handed her the soda and pulled out a chair for himself.

She grinned. “Is this your idea of cooking, then?”

He shrugged. “Yeah. Okay. Sure. I’m not so good in the kitchen, but I can open little boxes of Chinese like a pro.”

Katie peeked into the various containers and sighed. “That smells so good.”

“Yeah, I asked your receptionist what your favorites were.” He batted his lashes, feigning chagrin. “I’m not going to claim to have simply guessed on my own.”

While they both filled their plates, he watched her every move, memorizing her habits, her tiny quirks, and loving every single one. Was that a sign he was whipped? If it was, he would take it. There was no sense denying how he felt about her anymore, at least not to his friends.

The way she bit the corner of her lower lip while she worked the tab through the slot on one of the boxes… The way she lifted the container and shoveled the steaming broccoli beef onto her plate without using a serving spoon… Even the way she opened her napkin and set it in her lap…

He couldn’t resist commenting. “Your mom let you tip the containers and shovel the food out like that at home?” he teased.

She rolled her eyes. “God no. She’d have a coronary.” She pointed her fork at him, a spear of broccoli on the tip. “And if you ever tell her, I’ll tell everyone in my family you drink your beer straight from the bottle. Their eyes would bug out of their heads, and you’d be banned from my life forever.”

He smiled, but he knew there was some truth to her statement. What wasn’t funny was if and when he ever met her parents, he knew it would be an uphill battle he was not likely to win. He needed to ensure Katie was his in every possible way before that day. If he didn’t, he would run the risk of losing her when faced with the disapproval of her parents.

There was every fear no amount of time could prevent that from occurring, especially considering all the stories he’d heard about her ex-boyfriend Marshall-the-pig, whom her parents apparently adored. Did they have any idea what an asshole that guy was or how poorly he treated their daughter? The man had no respect for her.

Leo wasn’t sure he would be able to keep from punching the guy in the nose if he ever had the chance. After all, the asshole left Katie alone at a speakeasy while he went to collect his precious earnings.

Ever since that night, Leo had kept one eye open at every fight, wondering if Marshall frequented the underground circuit often or if it had been a one-time deal.

Somehow Leo doubted the jerk had only been to the one fight, considering how Katie described his reaction to every punch and kick thrown. Even if it had been his first fight, the man had the sort of personality that suggested he would return often and with more money. It was all about the rush.

Leo had never understood the gambling adrenaline. The thrill of fighting made his heart race and sent him bouncing on his toes, but betting on him? He didn’t get that. All he understood was the higher those rich assholes bet, the more money he made. And that was all that mattered when each win made the difference between paying the month’s rent or winding up on the street.

Leo fought a smile as he watched Katie eat. She might think she was a rebel dishing up the food with her own fork and contaminating the containers with the same utensil, but the rest of her manners were ingrained. She didn’t even know they existed. She sat upright, elbows off the table, napkin in her lap—except when she was dabbing her lips. She held her fork just so and set it prongs down on the plate between bites. The woman never once spoke with her mouth full.

When they finished, Leo stood to clear the table. “You shower. Take your time. I’ll clean up the mess.”

She stared at him and then smiled. “If you spoil me, I might not let you go.”

He winked. “That’s my plan.”

Giggling, she padded from the room. He knew she always liked to shower in the evening after working all day. He couldn’t blame her. Lord knew what sort of germs she picked up during the day.

The second the water was on, he pulled his phone from his pocket and tapped the screen several times.

His contact with the FBI picked up on the second ring. “Leo.”

“Hey, I don’t have much time, but I have a better idea what that crazy blood work consisted of.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, it would seem Mikhail and Dmitry have strange antibodies in their blood as if they had an assortment of rare or extinct childhood illnesses.”

“Shit.”

“My sentiments exactly.” Leo shuddered. The idea of his own strange blood results made his skin crawl, but he didn’t mention that Katie had also tested his blood.

“I’ll make a note of it. Could be nothing. Who knows what sort of immunizations they received in Russia? And I’ve got some people looking into that doctor you told me about, Ted Christianson. He works at a lab downtown. We haven’t gotten through to him yet. Hopefully we can make contact Monday morning. Place is as secure as the CDC.”

“I’m sure. He deals in infectious diseases.”

“What I want to know is what the hell Mikhail and Dmitry have going on in their systems and if Anton Yenin had something to do with it.”

“About that. I’m going to go out on a limb here and suggest all six of us would have the same wonky blood work.”

“You know this firsthand?”

“Yeah.” So much for keeping himself out of this.

“Fuck.”

“My thoughts exactly. Listen, gotta go. I’m with the doctor now. And you can find me here indefinitely in an emergency. She lives above her clinic.”

“You sleeping with her?”

“None of your business.” It wasn’t as if the FBI could possibly presume to tell him he couldn’t enter a relationship. That was his business. Was it wise? Not at all. But he would make his own choices in that area.

“Well if you are, then you better stay on her, because I don’t like this. Yenin catches wind someone means something to you, and he’s got a bone to pick with you…”

“I’m clear on that. Later.” Leo winced as he ended the call, tossed the phone on the table, and scurried around the kitchen putting the Chinese takeout in the fridge. What the fuck was he doing playing house with Katie Schwan? His presence was endangering her life. He never should have gotten so laid back about Yenin since coming to Chicago. It was stupid of him to assume the Russian Mafia wasn’t still on his heels—and now Katie’s.

Fuck. What a disaster.

He took several breaths, trying to calm himself.

He loaded the dishwasher, wiped the table, and was opening a second beer when Katie emerged from the bathroom.

“Wow, you clean up nicely,” she joked, her gaze darting around the kitchen, not his body.

He shrugged and sauntered toward her.

She had that damn enticing towel wrapped around her middle again. Her hair was piled on top of her head in a clip. Dry. She gripped the towel to her chest as he approached.

One look at her, and he knew walking away had never been an option. He was too weak when it came to Katie. Perhaps he was a stupid ass, but he was a stupid ass who had fallen hard for a sexy doctor.

She cocked her head to one side. “About that massage…”

“It’s next on my list of things to lure you into my web.” He nodded toward the bedroom. “Lie on your belly. I’ll make you moan.”

Her face flushed. He loved that about her. Even after the numerous orgasms she’d had at his hand, her cheeks still reddened at the mere mention of sex.

Leo took her by the shoulders and spun her around when she didn’t move. He tapped her ass next. “Bed. Now.”

She leaped forward at his pat, gasping. “Don’t start thinking you can spank me every day, big man. I’m not that kind of girl.”

“We’ll see.”

She turned around when she reached the bed and tried to glare at him. The emphasis didn’t reach her eyes, though. “Leo…”

“Baby, I do what works. I told you that last night…and again this morning. I like control. And turning it over to me makes you horny. If you could deny that, we wouldn’t be standing here. But your pussy is so wet right now you can hardly stand up.” He inched closer to her with every word until he stood right in her space, leaving only the slightest bit of distance between them.

He lifted her chin with his fingers. “Admit your pussy is about to drip down your thighs, or I’ll check for myself.”

Her eyes widened, and she blushed a third darker shade of red. When her mouth opened, she didn’t speak. Instead she moaned. “How do you do that?” she muttered as she turned around to face the bed, tugged the comforter down, and climbed onto the sheet on her belly.

“It’s who you are, babe. It’s a personality. You aren’t alone,” he said as he watched her fight to keep the towel securely wrapped around her body. “Lots of women, and men for that matter, enjoy turning over their free will to another. Especially women in positions of power. Like you.”

He left her on the bed and headed back to the front room to grab his overnight bag and haul it into her bedroom. Intentionally, he dropped it with a thud, announcing his intentions with the heavy thump of the contents.

And then he continued, “You spend all day in charge of everyone. It’s not strange you enjoy turning that control over to another at the end of the day. It’s relaxing.”

“I don’t feel relaxed,” she muttered into the pillow. “I feel stressed. It’s not normal.”

“It’s not that unusual, babe. People just don’t discuss it in public. I can assure you there are people in all walks of life from poor to rich who practice some form of D/s. But they don’t always talk about it.”

He reached down to unzip his bag and drew out a bottle of massage oil. His cock stiffened with the thought of rubbing his warm hands over her body until it hummed.

“You’re going to have to remove the towel, you know.” He squirted the oil on his palm and rubbed both hands together. “Unwrap it and leave it under your body so I don’t get oil on the sheets.” He knew he changed his voice, deepened it. It was intentional. His authoritative voice, the one he intended to use when he wanted her to compliantly obey him.

She hesitated only a second, comical considering how many times he’d seen her naked in the last twenty-four hours. She finally opened the towel and lifted onto her hands and knees to arrange it beneath her before lying back down on her belly.

He watched, his attention focused on her breasts hanging in front of her, swaying with her movement until she pressed them against the mattress out of sight.

She had no idea how exquisite she was.

Instead of climbing up to straddle her, he grabbed the edge of the towel with his fingertips and hauled her closer to the side of the bed, careful not to get the oil on her sheets.

And then he set his hands on her back and flattened his palms on her smooth skin. To stare at her, one would think she was a porcelain statue. But touching her brought her to life. Her muscles were so tight. He made his way up her spine and then wrapped his fingers around her shoulders and worked the oil into the knots in her neck.

She moaned into the pillow. “Where’d you learn to do that? You could work professionally. With your sex appeal, women would pay hundreds of dollars for you to work their muscles.”

“Mmmm. Well, I have no training. I’m just used to being on the receiving end. It’s one of the perks of being a fighter. Abram keeps us set up with an appointment every other week. I’ve simply learned from experience.”

“Must be nice.”

He chuckled. “They allow all sorts of people to get massages, you know. Doctors aren’t excluded.”

“Never have the time. Plus it always makes me uncomfortable to get naked for a stranger to paw me.”

“You’re in luck then. I’m not a stranger, and I’ll be happy to paw you as often as you desire.”

“You’re spoiling me. First dinner. Then clean up. Now a massage. I’ll never let you leave.”

Excellent
. That was the plan.

He worked his way down her arm and then set it over her head to do the same to her other arm. Even her fingers.

The small sounds she made kept his cock hard until he gritted his teeth against the need to take her.

When he moved down her body to her feet, he worked oil into each one and then up her calves and thighs. He pulled one leg out from the other and lifted it to stretch the muscle and dig his palms into the tightness.

She grew more pliable as she relaxed.

He worked the muscles of her butt last, paying close attention to the knots that made her tense when he pressed on them. “Relax, babe.”

“I’ve never been more relaxed,” she muttered.

Finally, after about half an hour of rubbing her backside, he tapped her hip. “Flip over for me.”

She turned her head and smiled. “I’m not falling for that.”