Page 19 of Hold Back
Kit didn’t move. If they were going to treat him like a kid, he would behave like one. The game had officially begun.
“Go get dressed,” Red ordered. “Breakfast will be ready in five.”
“I don’t want breakfast,” Kit protested but his belly rumbled. He stared down at it. “Traitor.”
There was the briefest of a smirk playing about Red’s lips as somehow he managed to sweep Kit off the counter and place him on the floor.
“Get dressed.” The second order came with a firm shove toward the door.
Kit grumbled under his breath all the way out of the kitchen. Trying to tempt Red with his fine body hadn’t worked. Now for round two.
Padraig joined him in the hallway. Kit gave him a cool look.
“I don’t need you to follow me.”
“Boss’s orders,” Padraig said, jerking his thumb toward the kitchen. “I told you, you’re not to be left alone.”
“This is my home,” Kit snarled. “You think I’m gonna be taken out by an old lady? What’s she gonna do? Clean me to death?”
“We have no idea where an attack will come from,” Red said from the doorway. “Hurry up or your breakfast will be cold.”
“You take me,” Kit demanded imperiously.
To his surprise, Red agreed. “Padraig, you can plate up the food. No reason for your food to be cold because this one is throwing a tantrum.”
Kit glowered at Red but they both ignored him.
“Sure thing.” Padraig vanished into the kitchen, leaving Kit alone with Red.
“I’m not throwing a tantrum.” He almost stomped his foot in frustration.
“Sure, you’re not,” Red agreed. “Upstairs. I want my breakfast even if you don’t.”
Kit shimmied up the stairs to his bedroom, making sure Red got an eyeful of his hip wiggle. He didn’t look back to see if Red was paying attention. He was sure Red was, even if he pretended otherwise.
Was he surprised Red followed him into the bedroom? No, not really. Would Padraig have followed? No, he doubted that too.
He looked over his shoulder. “You can wait outside.”
Red leaned against the door frame, waving his hand as if to say get on with it.
Kit flung the robe on the bed. Red had gotten a good look at the goods last night. There was no point being coy now. He tugged on briefs from the top drawer of his chest, then wriggled into a skin-tight cerise shirt and skinny jeans, displaying the ink on his arms, fantasy water scenes in vivid greens and blues. The shirt barely skimmed his waistband and Kit made sure he raised his arms over his shoulders to expose the red and turquoise cobra spread over his taut belly again.
The whole time, Red watched him with that same bland expression, but Kit knew it was fake. He’d seen the real Red last night in that fleeting darkening of his eyes. Never mind, Kit could wait him out. He knew how to play the game.
Back in the kitchen, Tony greeted him with a glower. “Geez, kid, this isn’t a nightclub.”
Kit looked down at his T-shirt and jeans, confused. “What sorta nightclubs do you go to? I wouldn’t be seen dead in something like this.”
Tony gave a disgusted grunt.
Red just waved Kit to the table and placed a plate of bacon, sausages, eggs, and toast in front of him, then fetched his own plate and slid into the chair next to him.
Kit looked at it in dismay. “That’s more than I eat in a week. I’ll need bigger jeans.”
“Eat what you can,” Red urged. “Breakfast is important.”
“I just want coffee.”
