Page 54 of Not All Himbos Wear Capes
“Hey, sweetheart,” I murmured against his soft blond hair. Butch was laying with his back against my chest, half suffocating me underneath his delicious muscles as we watched yet another superhero movie, but I didn’t give a fuck.
I would let this man crush my head with his thighs.
And I would thank him for it.
“Does working for Biggs give you access to the archives at the USN?” I kept my tone casual, even though Wolfgang’s revelation had been bouncing around my brain the past two days. It didn’t escape my notice that Butch tensed when I mentioned his boss, but he wouldn’t be slaving for that asshat much longer if this all went to plan.
“Uh, yeah. Why do you ask?” He tilted his head back to give me a sweet smile.
Fuck, I missed that smile.
I hesitated a moment, finding it more difficult than usual to lie. “I need to double-check international water law, so that I don’t end up pissing off the wrong country when I finally take my invention out for a test drive. The USN should have records of any treaties that were signed.”
Instead of simply smiling and nodding, Butch twisted around, giving me his full attention. “That is so interesting! I’ve only dealt with international airspace before. I wonder if it matches up? Anyway, I’ll look into it at work next week. It would be sofunto take you there on a tour!”
This man must be protected at all costs.
“You know, Butch,” I teased, sliding my hand over the bulge in his sweatpants, just to hear him moan. “I might need a research assistant someday—think I could tempt you away from Biggs?”
He dropped his gaze with a sigh, presumably to watch me torture him. “I could match your salaryandgive you special employee benefits…”
“I’ll just take the benefits, please,” he whispered, rubbing himself against my hand until a tasty wet spot appeared through the sweatpants.
As much as I wanted to make him come in his pants again, his comment sparked a concern. “You dospendthe money you make from Biggs, right?”
He stopped moving, his dazed expression meeting mine. “I mean, I buy things I need…”
“Oh, no, no,” I released him and sat up, waving a scolding finger in his face. “I mean things youdon’tneed—but deserve to enjoy, anyway.” When he simply stared at me in confusion, I elaborated. “Like the most expensive steak on the menu, or a trip to Ibiza, or decor for your apartment that doesn’t look like it came from Elvis’ final years at Graceland.”
Butch sat back on his heels. “I hate how my condo looks,” he admitted—almost guiltily. “It was my parents’ and I never knew if I was allowedtoredecorate.”
I forced back a smile. It was tempting to encourage him to gut the place, but he’d be moving in with me soon enough. “Okay, if youcoulddecorate your own place, what would you choose?”
His deer-in-the-headlights expression pulled at my heartstrings, but then he rallied. “Well.” He looked around my apartment. “It would probably look a lot like this. All the different shades of gray on the walls are soothing, and the leather and wood just feels… it feelshomey.And I really like the art…”
I followed his gaze to the two large canvases on the far wall, which looked—for all intents and purposes—like monochromatic abstract art.
Even though it’s more than that.
“What is it about the art that you like?” I shifted onto my knees and leaned forward, extremely invested in his answer.
He kept staring, mesmerized, his broad chest rapidly rising and falling. “The way the red paint sprays across the white canvas reminds me of…” His gaze flickered to mine. “Blood.”
Oh, sweetheart, you have no idea.
It actuallywasblood—my very first kill in the Suarez name—and seeing Butch look at it like it turned him on was making me feral.
“What if itwasblood?” I couldn’t help asking,needingto know if this man was truly as perfect as I thought he was.
Butch licked his lips. “I’d like it even more.”
That tingling sensation shot down my spine, and I had to clench my fists to calm my visceral reaction to his confession. I wanted to toss Butch onto his hands and knees and fuck him senseless while telling him every gory detail of that kill. I wanted him to come all over himself while admitting how hard that made him—how he wanted toseeme kill.
How he wanted to kill someone with me.
Stop it stopstopstopstop.
My dangerous thoughts were interrupted when something smacked against the window, causing Meowson to leap off the sill with a yowling hiss. By the time I turned my head to look, Butch was on his feet and standing between me and the threat. His stance combined with the way he was backlit in the morning light made him look like a superhero—which only encouraged my psychotic hard-on.
