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Staggered. Gentle. Warm. Proud. Affectionate. Content.
Happy.
All of that, not at war. It was resting in calm accord on every inch of his features.
After I called him one single endearment.
Wow.
He really liked me.
It was then I heard a pounding from far away, I knew it was his front door, and I was so ticked our moment was broken (this one and the ones before), I turned my head and glared at the door.
This before I let out a surprised mini shriek since I was suddenly flying through the air only to land on my ass.
Javi tossed the covers over my lap and angled out of bed, but he turned and leaned into a fist by my hip with his face in mine, whereupon he ordered, “Do not move. I’ll get rid of them and be back.”
I nodded, vigorously.
Him being back would be good.
Oh so good.
He stalked out in a manner I was a little worried about whoever was at the door, but mostly I was admiring the extraordinary curves of his ass highlighted by the material of his long sleep shorts.
Oh, and the sweeps and dents of the defined muscles of his bare shoulders and back.
He disappeared out the door.
I pulled the covers tighter to my lap and took a look around.
Considering I was mostly asleep last night, not to mention the lights had never been on, it was only then I noticed his bedroom was like the rest of his house that I’d seen.
A dark greenish-blue bedspread covering dark-gray sheets, and I counted four pillows at the head. There was a chocolate-brown suede headboard that was handsome. But the two nightstands and lamps, along with the single dresser across the room from the bed, looked battered, worn, and none of it matched. Even the lamps.
I knew, before NI&S, along with doing the Shadow Soldier stuff, he’d had a good job as a baggage handler at Sky Harbor Airport.
The thing that was becoming clear was, even so, it didn’t seem he’d allowed his life to start back then, because whatever that life was, he didn’t bring much of it with him to this space except some nightstands, a couple lamps and a dresser.
That life hadn’t started until now. When he got a job with Nightingale Investigation and Security, one that Jessie told me paid a lot better because her brother told her it did, and he’d been a baggage handler with Javi.
I didn’t know how old Javi was. My guess, he was around my age, which was thirty. Probably he was just a bit older.
And it was only recently, when he got hooked up with his new crew, that he believed.
Believed he could settle in.
Believed he could begin his life.
Until recently, I traveled light.
And I belatedly wondered, with that comment, before now, if he’d even settled at all.
Stuff was occurring to me. Uncomfortable stuff. Understandable stuff.
Stuff that might explain why a man like Javi said the things he’d said to me after he dragged me away from Oceans 44.
Explain it, not forgive it.