Andi and Niro

by Gadziala, Jessica

  I'd sat there seething in pure fucking jealousy and nostalgia, flashing back to that night we'd moved her into her first apartment, to the way she jumped at every little noise the neighbors made, needing reassurance that she was safe there, asking me to sleep on the floor next to her instead of in the other room.

  It was the beginning of the end and I knew it at the time, so I had savored every moment of it, mostly staying awake all night, reminding myself of all the reasons I had to let her go.

  Because she needed to go to school.

  Because she deserved a normal fucking life full of animals and happiness and a man whose love didn't constantly put her life in danger.

  I couldn't give her that.

  And as I rushed up the stairs toward her apartment, I was starting to wonder if she even could have that while she was in town, if her connection to the club would forever put her in danger.

  "Andi!" I called, slamming my fist against her closed door, heart hammering against my ribcage. Panic had a vise-like grip on my system, chasing away anything even akin to rationality.

  Once upon a time, I would have had keys to her apartment, would have known her whereabouts.

  But there was no time to harp on that shit now.

  "Andi!" I yelled, wondering how strong the door was, if I could take it down.

  "She's usually gone by now," a voice said, making me turn, finding someone in her early twenties coming out of her apartment across the hall, dressed in sweats, clutching her laptop to her chest—the typical uniform of college students with early morning classes. "To work," she added when my face must have stayed blank.

  "Work. Right. Thanks," I said, already rushing down the stairs, racing right past my bike since it would be faster to get there on foot.

  Work.

  She'd gotten a job. I'd overheard a conversation about that as well. Then I'd needed to remind myself I had no right to be upset that I hadn't heard that information first hand.

  But she had a job now.

  And she wasn't home.

  So she had to be there.

  She had to.

  Because anything else was completely unfathomable.

  Sweet, innocent, kind Andi in the hands of some unknown cartel, terror gripping her system, no help on the way because no one even knew she was gone.

  It was an image I'd tortured myself with over the years when I had ideas of confessing my feelings for her to her. It was the fate I thought I was saving her from.

  And now, I'd pushed her away. I'd made it so she would never—fucking never—trust me again, and now she could possibly still be going through that exact situation I thought I was saving her from.

  Worse yet, it wasn't like if Hope or any of the others would have been snatched, girls who had taken to their self-defense classes, who carried various eye-gougers and pepper spray with them at all times. Andi had failed miserably at self-defense. She refused to carry any of the items her father, her uncles, and even I had tried to convince her to have on hand.

  She was defenseless.

  Cursing myself, I pushed myself harder as I made my way up the block. Coming from her apartment, I came up on the vet's office from the back parking lot, fully intending on charging right into the back door, calling for her as I went, creating a massive fucking scene.

  But even as I got into the lot, a familiar figure was emerging from the back door.

  Blonde.

  Pretty.

  Wearing scrubs.

  But not taken.

  There.

  Okay.

  "Andi!" I yelled, rushing forward, watching as her head shot up, surprise and unease crossing her face in a blink.

  "Niro, what are you doing here?" she asked, carefully folding her arms across her chest, her fingers reaching to grab the sleeve of her long-sleeve tee to drag it down over her forearm before looking up at me again.

  "There was a shooting last night," I explained, taking a few deep breaths, trying to bring calm to the chaos in my system right then.

  "Was there?" she asked, a strange squeaky sound slipping into her voice, but I figured she was just thinking about the victims, about their families. That heart of hers, it was always too big, always too breakable.

  "Yeah. Down by the convenience store."

  "Oh, that's awful," she said, the squeak gone, replaced with something colder, more closed off. Probably because I was the last person in the world she wanted to see right about then.

  "The news said there was a woman kidnapped," I explained, not wanting her to think I was completely out of my fucking mind. "Blonde. Pretty. Wearing scrubs."

  "That's awful. She must have been terrified," she added, face twisting a bit.

  "Yeah, and when we heard, we all just worried that maybe it was you."

  "I'm right here," she said, waving a hand down at her body. "Un-kidnapped." There was a strange edge to that even stranger turn of phrase, but I was too relieved to try to decipher it.

  "Thank God," I said because I couldn't muster the energy to be a dick right then, not with the wave of relief working its way through my body.

  "You could have..." she started before something behind me caught her attention, something that made her entire body go ramrod straight as her eyes widened, and went panicked.

  "What's the mat—" I started, moving to turn, only to have her hand shoot out, fingers grabbing my chin, drawing it back.

  Then, and I couldn't make this shit up if I tried, roughly, almost sloppily, sealing her lips to mine.

  Chapter Twelve

  Andi

  I felt like I was trudging through molasses as I moved through the office, checking out the schedule, greeting the staff, dodging questions about how tired I looked.

  And I was tired. Right down to my bones. It made my thoughts slow and my temper shorter.

  I had wicked bruises on my arm and across my stomach that ached when I moved or accidentally brushed over them.

  On top of all of that, I couldn't keep my mind from flashing with awful images. Of the night before. Of what could happen if I ever spoke of the night before to anyone.

  It was all just too much. It was way too much.

  Ten minutes before the first client, I decided to get some fresh air to clear my head, to try to chase away the lingering jittery fear still gripping my system.

  I'd barely been able to suck in a steadying breath when I'd heard him yelling my name, running toward me.

  Niro.

  There was a split second of joy.

  Before I remembered.

  The threat.

  The image of him with pieces of him missing.

  Just as the words about the shooting were coming out of his mouth, with the concern for me in his voice that I had missed so much, a sleek black car slid down the street alongside the parking lot, pulling to a stop.

  Nothing suspicious.

  Until he climbed out in all black with matching sunglasses but I could feel his gaze on me. And on Niro.

  I hadn't been paranoid about my suspicions over being followed.

  And it did not look good that Niro had come running, was standing here with me. Like I'd called him. Like I'd told him. Like he was rushing to my rescue. Like he was going to start problems for them for what they'd done.

  Then Niro's keen gaze must have read the panic on my face that I felt swirling through my body because he started to turn.

  I just... panicked.

  I did the only thing I could think of to get his attention back to me.

  I grabbed him.

  And I kissed him.

  It wasn't meant to be a real kiss.

  I just needed a distraction.

  I needed him not to look over his shoulder.

  His lips were a firm line under mine for one long, surprised moment. His body was as tense as mine felt.

  But then, suddenly, that tension snapped.

  Niro's hand went around the back of my neck, holding me to him as his lips parted, pressed the kiss deeper. His other hand w
ent around my lower back, pulling me up, holding me tightly against his body.

  As for my body, well, it had a mind of its own.

  I should have been watching the leader of the gang from the night before. I should have been making sure he wasn't reaching for a gun, wasn't approaching, wasn't going to slowly torture and murder us both.

  But my eyelids stayed stubbornly closed as my arms moved, wrapping around the back of his neck, crushing my chest to his as his tongue traced the seam of my lips, seeking entrance. A low, sighing sound escaped me as it did, toying with mine.

  This was the kiss I had expected from Niro.

  Hungry, yet sweet, almost careful, taking his time, giving me the soft side he seemed to reserve only for me.

  My fingers slipped upward, sinking into his short, soft hair, holding on as the kiss pressed deeper still, making my heartbeat flutter, making a painful pressure start on my lower stomach.

  Undeniable.

  Unmistakable.

  Desire.

  I wanted him.

  God, did I want him.

  It was such a pure, undiluted, almost raw sensation that I realized in the moment that it couldn't be as new as I wanted to believe, that it was something that had been there for a long while, likely buried under the ideas of friendship, of the taboo nature of it all.

  Memories flashed across my mind.

  Niro walking up to me from the ocean with a big shell in his hand, a big smile on his face, and the way my gaze had slid down his chest, following a trickle of water between his abdominal muscles until it disappeared under the low-slung waistband of his board shorts.

  Niro and I doing some grappling practice because I was struggling to best anyone in my self-defense classes, both of us sweating and grunting and rolling around until, finally, his body came over mine, hips to my hips, knees pinning my thighs, hands pinning my hands over my head, the way my stomach had twisted in that moment, the way my heartbeat had skittered.

  Later, the first time I let someone's hand wander places I'd never let them before, the way my eyes fluttered closed to try to escape into the sensation, and it was a flash of Niro's face in my mind.

  No.

  No.

  It wasn't possible that, all along, there had been feelings toward him that I hadn't noticed. I was all about my feelings. You could ask anyone who knew me. I wasn't shy about them in any way. I was comfortable in expressing them. Even the weird or embarrassing ones. Even the uncomfortable ones. I analyzed and understood them all.

  I didn't think I was capable of having a feeling that I didn't know was there, to acknowledge, analyze, drag my loved ones into talking about.

  But there was no denying it either, was there?

  There had been sizzles of attraction toward Niro well back into my teens when I truly came into my body, understanding intimately all its inner workings.

  I had simply pushed them down, refused their existence, and I had done such a good job that I didn't even recognize them for what they were.

  Niro's teeth gently nipped my lower lip, drawing a throaty moan out of me, something that made a low, sexy rumbling noise move through Niro, vibrating into my own body, as he took steps forward, pressing me back against the wall of my office building, his pelvis grinding into mine.

  His hardness pressed against my lower stomach, and a needy, primal part of me lifted my leg, shifted it out to the side of his hip, opening me up to him, feeling his need rub against where I wanted him the most.

  This time, when the moan escaped me, it wasn't low, wasn't quiet, as my fingers dug into the back of Niro's neck as he shifted his hips forward, grinding against me.

  "Andi..." he said against my lips, trying to move backward, trying to pull out of my grasp.

  My leg hooked around his lower back as my hands grabbed desperately at his shoulders.

  "No," I whimpered as his eyes opened to look at me. I'd never seen them like that. Deep, penetrating, heavy-lidded, needy. Every ounce of me responded. The need was almost violent in its insistence, ricocheting off every nerve ending. "Please don't stop," I whimpered, circling my hips against him, drawing out a low hissing noise.

  "Fuck," he growled, sealing his lips over mine again.

  He kept his hips stubbornly back, and for one long moment, the desperation was all I could think of.

  But then his hand moved between us, between my thighs, teasing over my clit through the layers of my clothes, his thumb working in slow, perfect circles that drove me up faster than I could have realized.

  "We shouldn't—" Niro said, pulling back again, gaze on me as my eyelids fluttered open.

  "Please," I whimpered, rolling my hips against him.

  Whatever control he'd been holding onto snapped in that moment, his hand slipping up, sliding under the waistband of my pants and panties. He let out a low, primal, growling noise as his finger traced up my slick cleft to find my clit once again.

  But this time, as he worked me, as he drove me up, his gaze was on mine, something that made it somehow even more intense, the need so acute it was damn near painful.

  "Niro," I whimpered, so overcome with some emotion I had no name for in the moment, but needing to express it, let him know I was feeling it.

  "It's okay," he shushed me, his other hand moving to frame my face, his thumb stroking out over my cheek as his other fingers slipped downward, slipped inside me.

  A low, grumbling moan escaped him as my walls tightened around him, making his forehead press to mine as his fingers started to thrust. Slowly, almost lazily at first, then building momentum, getting more demanding as his thumb started working my clit again.

  He drove me up patiently, yet quickly, making my walls tighten hard around him as I felt pushed to that precipice, leaving me teetering uncertainly there.

  "Niro, I..." I whimpered, gaze on his face.

  He pushed back from my forehead, eyes opening, holding mine.

  "Come," he said, so softly I barely heard him. "Come for me, baby," he added.

  And those words, those words from his lips, those words in his voice, they were all my body needed in that moment, sending me crashing down into an orgasm just as his lips sealed to mine again, muffling the cry of his name as the climax shot through my body, stealing the strength from my legs, the air from my legs, and every last thought from my mind.

  I came back down into a trembling body, so overcome with sensations that I didn't know how to process them.

  Taking a slow, deep breath, I pulled backward, watching Niro's eyes as they refocused.

  "I..." I started, brows drawing together, confusion and satisfaction and uncertainty swarming my mind and body, making any rational thoughts become nothing but a pipe dream.

  "I know," he said, nodding, fingers pulling out of me, out of my pants, his hand releasing my face. "I know," he said again, giving me a regretful nod, then turning and walking away.

  He didn't.

  He didn't know.

  I wasn't going to tell him to go, that this was a mistake, that I didn't want him.

  I wanted him.

  I wanted him in a way I wasn't sure I'd ever wanted someone before. It didn't feel like a desire. Hell, it didn't even feel like a choice at all.

  I needed to call after him, call him back, explain that to him. But when I tried to open my mouth to speak, nothing came out.

  And it was right about then that I saw movement out of the corner of my eye.

  The gang leader.

  I'd been so caught up in Niro, in what we were capable of creating together, that I'd completely forgotten why it had started in the first place.

  As a distraction.

  It sure worked, didn't it?

  Because even I'd forgotten he was there.

  But there he was, leaning against his car.

  Watching.

  The motion I caught was him reaching up to remove his sunglasses, tucking them inside his breast pocket. Seeing me looking, he pushed off his car, making his way across the street at a lo
ng-legged, casual pace, head cocked a little to the side.

  "Didn't strike me as an exhibitionist," he said by way of greeting, coming up close, towering over me.

  My poor body was forced to ping-pong from desire, to satisfaction, to confusion, and directly into fear all within a few moments. All on an overwrought, emotionally fragile, exhausted body and mind.

  I felt the sting of helpless tears at the backs of my eyes, blinking hard to keep them at bay, but feeling the trickle slip down my cheek regardless.

  "Eh, don't worry," he said, reaching up, wiping the tear off before it slipped off my jaw. "You keep distracting him with your pussy, lil' mama, and we won't have a problem. Just remember," he said, taking a step back, giving me a wicked grin, "I'm watching."

  "Doctor... oh," Meredith, one of the techs started as she burst out the door, making me jolt, trying to reach up to look like I was fixing my hair as I wipe my eye on my sleeve. "Sorry," she added, doing a slow inspection of the man standing there. "I didn't realize you had a guy," she added, beaming at me. "No wonder you look so tired."

  "Yeah, my bad," he said, giving her a smile that could charm the panties off of a saint. "Afraid I kept her up a little too late last night."

  "She works hard. She deserves some fun," Meredith claimed. "I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name."

  Neither had I.

  And the part of me that was raised by bikers and paramilitary people perked up for any bit of vital information that might prove useful in the future.

  "Go ahead and call me A," he suggested, giving her another smile that seemed to wipe her brain clear of any follow-up questions. "Catch you around, lil' mama," he said, giving me a wink, then swaggering away.

  "I think I'm pregnant," Meredith claimed. "You should have just told us you were up all night getting some. We would all understand. I mean, be completely and utterly green with envy, but understand," she went on. She was always a babbler. Usually, I loved it. Right that moment, I just wanted silence, some space to put my thoughts together. "You alright?"

  "I, ah, yeah, sorry. I think... I think I need a cup of coffee."

  "You don't drink coffee."