Two Billionaire Brothers Hired Me and Warned Me About Each Other novel · Chapter 3 of 24

Chapter 3: The Kitchen Island

Leo waits in the kitchen with the door propped open; Siobhan kicks the stop away, shuts it herself and tells him what she wants, and Cas is waiting at the top of the stairs.

"I'm sorry to wake you," Leo said.

"You didn't."

"Good," Leo said. "Are you in bed?"

"I'm sitting on it. In a T-shirt. Holding a phone I'm not supposed to answer."

He laughed, low, and I liked the sound more than I wanted to.

"Come down to the kitchen," he said. "No one's up. I only want to talk."

"The back stairs are kept clear after nine."

"So I hear. Use them anyway."

I put on sleep shorts under the T-shirt, because I had rules too, and went down the forbidden stairs in my bare feet.

The kitchen was lit by the strip lights under the cabinets, a long amber glow across a steel island long enough to seat eight.

Leo sat on a stool at the end of it with two mugs, his cardigan open over a grey T-shirt.

The door to the passage stood open, held by a stack of cookbooks.

"Sit," he said. "It's chamomile. I drank first."

"You don't have to keep proving it."

"I like proving it. It's the only thing I'm sure I can prove."

I sat across the corner of the island from him and wrapped my hands around the mug.

"You asked a question yesterday," Leo said. "In front of both of us. Nobody has ever done that in this house."

"And you both told me not to ask the other one."

"We did." He turned his mug a quarter turn. "Give it a week. If you still want to ask, I'll answer you honestly."

"And Cas?"

"Cas will answer you in orders." He smiled a little. "It's a different sort of honest."

I looked at his hands on the mug and then at his face.

He had a quiet face, the kind that made people lean in.

I had spent six years reading men for danger, and I could read nothing in his.

That was the danger, and I knew it, and I leaned in anyway.

"I'm going to do something," I said. "I want you to let me."

"I'll let you do anything you like."

"Even that?"

"Siobhan." He didn't move. "I've never said a thing to you I couldn't back."

I got off the stool.

I walked to the door and kicked the cookbooks out from under the edge.

The heavy door swung shut with a thud that carried through the sleeping house.

The kitchen went smaller and warmer.

"Nobody closes the doors," Leo said softly.

"I do." I turned the lock. "I'll be the one who closes it. Anyone who wants it open can ask me."

He sat very still, and then his eyes dropped over me, slowly, from my bare feet to the hem of the T-shirt and up.

"Come here," he said.

I came.

I stopped between his knees, and he did not touch me yet.

"Tell me what to do," I said.

His eyebrows lifted. "You want orders?"

"I want yours. I want you to tell me and I want to do it, and if I say stop, you stop."

"Of course I stop," Leo said.

"Then tell me."

For a moment he only looked at me, his gaze softening even as his eyes darkened.

"Take the shorts off," he said.

He said it in the same quiet voice he had used for chamomile, and my knees nearly went.

I pushed the shorts down and stepped out of them.

"Good," Leo said. "Now sit up on the island, right here, and put your hands behind you."

The steel was cold on the backs of my thighs.

I leaned back on my palms with my legs hanging, in a T-shirt and nothing else, and he stood.

He was taller than I'd thought.

He slid his hands up the outsides of my legs to my knees and spread them, slowly, with no hurry in him at all.

"Look at that," he said, quiet. "You're already wet."

"I've been wet since the staff supper."

"Since the stairs, I think." His mouth curved. "You came to supper looking like someone had almost touched you."

"Is that a complaint?"

"It's an observation." His thumb brushed up the inside of my thigh. "Do you want my fingers?"

"Yes."

"Say it properly," he said.

"I want your fingers in me, Leo."

"There she is," he whispered, and slid two fingers into me.

He pushed them in deep and slow, and I made a sound I'd never made in a hotel.

"Quiet," Leo said gently. "Or I'll stop."

"You won't."

"No." He curled his fingers, and a flash of light went up my spine. "I won't. But I'd like you to try."

I bit my lip and held on to the island with both hands.

He worked me with his hand, unhurried, the heel of his palm hard against my clit.

Each stroke found a place I hadn't known I had.

"Eyes on me, Siobhan."

I opened my eyes.

He was watching my face, only my face, with his mouth a little open, and he was breathing as hard as I was.

"That's it," he murmured. "That's exactly it. Look at you."

"Leo."

"Do you want more?" he asked.

"Yes," I said.

"Then you'll come when I tell you. Not before."

My whole body shook with how badly I wanted to disobey him.

I held on.

He added a third finger and moved his thumb in tight circles.

The pressure climbed through my belly and thighs until I was pleading with it.

"Please," I said.

"Please what?"

"Please let me."

"Good girl," Leo said. "Now."

I came apart with a cry I couldn't swallow, my head back and my heels dug into the steel edge.

He kept his hand moving until it was over and I was shaking and spent.

Then he slid his fingers out slowly and held my hip steady with his other hand.

I looked down.

He was hard against his sweatpants, and he had not touched himself once.

I reached for him.

He caught my wrist, gently, and held it.

"Not tonight," Leo said.

"I want to."

"I know." He kissed my knuckles. "That was yours. I'd like the rest to be yours too, and tonight you're shaking."

I was.

He pulled my T-shirt down, found my shorts and held them while I stepped into them.

Then he unlocked the door himself and took his hand away from the knob.

"You can leave it shut," he said. "Or you can open it. That's yours too."

I propped it open with the cookbooks, and I stood looking at it.

It was the first time in my life I had wanted a door shut.

"Goodnight, Leo."

"Goodnight, Siobhan."

I climbed the forbidden stairs in the dark with my legs unsteady and my face on fire.

At the top, where the staff corridor began, a light was on.

Cas stood there in his shirtsleeves with his arms crossed, and the door behind him was wide open.

He had been waiting a while.

"The staff stairs are closed after nine," he said.

"I know."

"Report to the library at six, Miss Calloran."

His eyes went to the kitchen below us, where a light was still burning.

"You'll find the door open."

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