Page 37 of What’s Left of Us (What Left #3)
“H-how?”
Alastair doesn’t stand, or even straighten in the chair as we stare at him. His coy smile remains in place as he studies us, and I feel Vinny move to stand beside me but I can’t tear my eyes away from the man sitting in our office.
“Oh, a little mafia protegé decided I’m more useful alive than dead.”
I’m not really sure what that means, and I don’t care.
I sprint over to him, throwing myself into his body, and he grunts as I wrap as much of myself as I can around him.
His grip is strong when he envelopes me, his breath dancing across my bare shoulders.
It’s like the last month of hell melts away as I hold onto him, the ache in my chest easing.
Hands reach around my back, gripping his shoulders, and I feel Alastair tip his head and then another head touching the back of mine. Vinny holds us both as Alastair hugs me, and I can’t understand how this is real.
I saw him die. I saw the bullets disappear into his jumpsuit and the patches of red that bloomed after the wounds. The light in his eyes died, and he stopped seeing me. He saw something else in that hospital, something I don’t understand. I thought we buried him.
Then Alastair leans back from our hug, forcing Vinny to lean away too, and his lips claim mine. Vinny steps in closer, practically crushing me between the two of them, and I tighten my arms around Alastair’s neck, desperate for more.
His kisses are feverish, needy, and I match the intensity. They are strong kisses, just like the way his tongue slides over mine before seeking entrance and diving into my mouth. I moan against him, and he inhales sharply beneath me.
Leaning away, he nips my lips and makes me rock against him. I need more, but my head is dizzy between lust and confusion. I echo the question from before, because his answer was more confusing than helpful. “How?”
Alastair’s eyes meet mine, raising his brows as he stares up at me. “Do you really want to get into it all right now?”
I shake my head, mentally cursing my curiosity, and drag my hands from his neck down his chest. My fingertips dance down his chest as I try to take all of him in while he’s sitting here in our club.
He hisses in pain, and I rip my hands away. Fuck.
Vinny reaches over me at the same time I go for the buttons on Alastair’s shirt, my mind going into overdrive as I remember exactly what happened to make me think he was dead. Tearing the shirt open, I gasp. “Oh. Oh. ”
My voice is pitiful compared to the marks on his chest. I knew he got shot, twice, but seeing the damage for myself is another matter.
I glance up, meeting his gaze before reaching out towards the wounds. He grabs my hand, settling it over one, and I can’t make myself look away from his eyes as I trace the mark with my thumb.
It’s circular, the skin around it rough and patchy. Swallowing, I glance away from him to study it. As I look Vinny’s hand snakes beneath mine, touching the wound closer to his sternum. Mine is closer to his right shoulder, and I carefully trace the uneven circle.
Two bullets. Two wounds. Two more things that nearly took him away from me again.
My eyes dance lower on his torso, and I have the time to notice things I couldn’t focus on last time we were together.
The cabin is burned in my mind as a pivotal moment in my life, but everything happened so fast I didn’t get to ask him questions or study him the way that I wanted to.
Now I notice there’s small black tattoos in different spots on his torso; nothing huge but enough to draw the eye but interesting enough that I want to know their origin.
To me they are designs with no meaning, but every decision Alastair’s ever made he made with purpose.
Nothing is more prominent however than the two bullet wounds.
Alastair reaches up, brushing my cheek. I hadn’t realized I was crying.
“Don’t cry for my scars, Jo,” he tells me, gripping my chin, “when I gave you yours.”
I whimper, unsure what to say. Do I slap him for the reminder or kiss him because I’m so very damn glad he’s alive? I just shake my head, unable to tear my eyes from his despite how watery my vision is. “I don’t blame you anymore.”
Alastair grimaces, and I don’t know what that means until he releases my chin and rubs subtly at the marks on his chest. My eyes widen and I scramble back off of him before he can say anything, bumping into my husband.
It’s the first time I look away from Alastair, and when my eyes catch Vinny’s, I can see the same amount of surprise mirrored there. He had no idea about this either, and that makes me feel slightly better. At least he wasn’t hiding something this big from me.
Vinny turns back to Alastair first, his voice more level-headed than mine was. “You’re still hurting. Why did you come here?”
He shrugs, still rubbing the same spot. Despite the pain I can see etched in his face, his eyes move from my face down my body, and the way his eyes move across me tells me exactly what he’s doing; instead of thinking of all the ways he could fuck me, he’s looking at the scars.
He’s sitting here struggling with the pain of being shot and he’s worried about my injuries from over fifteen years ago.
“Emeric,” Alastair finally says after a moment. “He helped me get set up at your house.”
Shock races through me. Seeing him here is surprising all by itself, but he’s already been to our house. “You went there before us?”
Alastair clears his throat, glancing away. “I’ve only been here for a couple hours - Denver, I mean. It’s busy, kind of like parts of Florida. Traffic is bizarre in the mountains.”
I fight back a smile, trying to keep up with everything he’s telling. Denver traffic is god awful in my opinion, but I didn’t have to deal with driving very often in Florida. I’m used to fighting with the lack of flow on I25. “You just got here? Where were you?”
He hesitates, glancing towards Vinny, and my back straightens. He mentioned the mafia…
“Does this have to do with Massimo?” I ask, the worst possible scenarios dancing through my head if he’s involved.
“No,” Vinny says before Alastair can. “Xeno is at odds with our Papa. I don’t think he would waste the resources bringing Alastair all the way out here. Xeno said there would be a gift here I would love.”
We look back at Alastair, who offers a sheepish smile. “Guess that’s me.”
My gaze softens, and something in my heart heals as I look at him, his eyes full of life as he stares back at me. The details aren’t important, not when I’ve learned how it feels to experience life without him. It’s different than knowing he’s in prison, alive but not really living.
He stands, but it takes a moment and Vinny ends up helping him up. It’s only when he’s upright and reaching for it that I even notice the cane.
Oh.
Alastair gives me a half smile, and my heart aches. “Don’t look so sad. The septic arthritis caused permanent damage. Better damaged than dead, right?”
Vinny snorts, and my eyes widen before I reach out and gently shrug him. “This isn’t funny. ”
He smiles, those bi-colored eyes drawing me in. I should let him get off his feet, or sit or go home or something -
My mind stops racing when he bends to kiss me again, and I melt into him. I definitely should be protesting more, trying to talk to him when I have so many questions, but my hands grip his instead and lean further into the embrace.
Vinny is behind me then, peppering my neck with kisses too, and it’s like that’s all we need to stop holding back. Alastair’s arm snakes around my waist, slamming me into him, and Vinny stays close until there’s no space left between us.
As he kisses me, I work the shirt off of him. Vinny’s helping me with mine, his hands dragging the hem of my shirt up. I lean away from Alastair’s lips just long enough for him to tear it over my head, and I pivot to catch my husband's lips next.
This feels familiar, like coming home to the place I belong. But with the absence of Sterling it makes me long for my Agent, too.
Vinny nips my lips, and I focus again. “Stay with us right here, darling.”
Alastair’s hands slide down my sides, and someone undoes my bra. It’s hard to focus on who has their hands where on me with Vinny kissing me again and Alastair’s lips skating over mine.
My mind scatters when Alastair moves to bite my neck, making me gasp, and the loose shorts I wore on the plane are yanked down my legs.
“Knees, Killer,” Alastair moans behind me as I kick away the clothes. I don’t even question the command, spinning until I’m in front of the two of them before I kneel.
Vinny always looks tall when I’m like this, but it’s been so long since I kneeled for Alastair too. When I sink down, I’m met with two big bodies that I’ve missed seeing before me.
My husband brushes back my hair, staring at me as Alastair watches. Now, it’s kind of like learning each other all over again, and I go for Alastair’s belt first. Vinny doesn’t mind, tightening his grip on my hair.
I undo his button and zipper with ease, pushing his belt out of the way. If I close my eyes it’s like no time has passed, and we’re just us again. As I tug him out and wrap my fingers around his length he groans and stumbles back a step, gripping the desk.
I chuckle to myself, glancing up through my lashes. “You can always tell me if it’s too much.”
His gaze darkens, and then my lips are around him and his head falls back so I can’t see his eyes anymore. Twirling my tongue around his head makes his hips move gently against me, and I smile to myself before taking him deep in my throat.
There’s the sound of another belt, and I sigh contentedly before pulling back from Alastair as he moans.
He’s sensitive, and I wonder what it would be like to not sleep with someone you love for years and years before coming back to them.
His sensitivity makes a thrill shoot through me, because after all this time I can still do amazing things to him.