Page 2 of Chaos Claimed

Instead, he turned back to the stove, stirring the pasta, acting like he wasn’t severely damaged now. Just another bright, sunny day.

“You gonna hover, or you gonna help?” he asked. His voice came out even, like everything was normal. Like he was normal.

Santiago just grinned, resting a hip against the counter. “Nah. I like watching you work.”

Percy rolled his eyes, shoving down the way his stomach fluttered. The way he desperately wanted Santiago to hold him and chase away the nightmares like he always chased away Percy’s father.

“Well, I’m putting you to work anyway.” He pointed the wooden spoon at the pantry. “Grab some pasta, buddy. Can’t eat just sauce and garlic bread.” He pursed his lips. “I guess you can, and it would be a lot healthier without the extra carbs.”

“If I’m helping, I’m eating.” Santiago snorted. As he walked away, Percy checked out his backside. Nice glutes, like he’d been sculpted by gods. “What kind of pasta?” he asked, blissfully unaware Percy had just been cataloguing the curve of his ass.

Percy quickly glanced away before he was busted. He might appreciate Santiago’s body, but the guy was associated with that biker club. The same club he’d belonged to.

Push it away. If you don’t think about it, it never happened.

“You pick.” Percy opened the oven, checking on the garlic bread, but the rush of hot air caused him to let go of the handle, the oven door slamming shut.

“Did you burn yourself?” Santiago was at his side in seconds, his gaze flicking over Percy’s hands.

“No.” But Percy couldn’t move. Couldn't force himself to reach for the handle. Sweat trickled down his back, sliding along his spine. He was on the border where fear and attraction crashed together in a swirl of heat and longing.

Santiago set the box aside, moved into Percy’s line of sight—no touching—and gazed at him. “Deep breath in through your nose. Deep exhale out through your mouth.”

Percy wanted to say he was fine, that he didn’t need Santiago’s help, but found himself doing as he was told. He concentrated on the man’s hazel eyes, the sound of his deep, soothing voice, and his nicely trimmed facial hair. Would it agitate his sensitive skin as he kissed Santiago? Percy had never kissed anyone with a beard and mustache before.

“You with me?” Santiago asked, his voice never rising above a whisper. “You’re doing beautifully, cariño.”

Another deep breath in. Another deep breath out. Not because of the heat. His fingers itched to touch those swollen pecs, to squeeze his huge biceps. Percy resisted.

Santiago turned and checked on the garlic bread.

Percy stood there feeling useless. He watched as Santiago added the pasta to the boiling water, stirred the sauce, adding a touch more garlic to it.

“This tastes incredible.” Santiago lifted the spoon to Percy’s lips. “You did amazing.”

That snapped him out of it. “It’s my secret recipe.” He parted his lips and accepted the spoon full of sauce Santiago fed him.

“Secret.” His smile was soft, and made Percy ache inside.

“Prego.” It was just sauce from the store, not something made from scratch. But Santiago didn’t need to know that.

“You speak Italian?” One of his thick brows rose again, amusement sparkling in his eyes.

“Sí.” Percy smirked, knowing full well he’d answered in Spanish. He knew a few sentences he could dazzle Santiago with.

“¿Entonces ahora hablas español?” So now you speak Spanish?

“Tengo cinco dólares para gastar.” I have five dollars to spend.

Santiago’s mouth twitched, his lips quivering from fighting back a smile. His almost-laugh was contagious. Percy broke first, bursting out laughing. Seconds later, Santiago joined him, his deep booming laughter filling the room. It only made his green eyes sparkle even brighter.

How could Percy want someone so badly, but he so afraid of him at the same time?

“Let’s cook together,” Santiago said, his accent thicker today than it normally was.

“Compré una lata de frijoles.” I bought a can of beans. Percy lifted the wooden spoon, twirling it around, determined to shake off the shadows that were a constant now.

A sound drew Percy’s attention, causing him to glance up at the clock on the wall. Five o’clock. His mom was right on schedule.

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