that he was cared for, that he was wanted. But I knew that was crazy.
And if my heart was softening toward Javi, my cock was doing exactly the opposite. While I didn’t study much fine art when getting my graphic art degree, I had an appreciation for lines—and Javi was all lines, from the cut of his collarbones to the sharp jut of his hips, accentuated by low-slung jeans and a worn-thin t-shirt.
His body was lean and strong, made fierce and proud by the ink that covered almost every inch of exposed skin. I wondered what he had on his stomach. What design was decorating the tanned skin of his back. My heart started racing.
“G-G-Giuliana is l-lucky to have a d-dad l-like you.” He winced, and again I wanted to shake him and tell him I didn’t care about the stutter.
“I feel lucky to have her. And lucky you came home when you did. I was losing my mind. I didn’t expect you to be home for another few hours. You usually get home around eleven or twelve,” I said, then realized how much I sounded like a stalker. His eyebrow arched and I laughed, thin and unconvincing. “I’m usually feeding or rocking Giuliana around then, and the rocker is by the window that faces your house.”
It was true, but my cheeks burned, because there was more to it, and I was pretty sure we both knew that. Because I also enjoyed seeing Javi get home, somehow feeling better knowing that he was close by, even when we barely knew each other.
I’m in so much trouble, I thought, and it was the goddamn truth.
Javi’s shoulders pulled even tighter than they’d been. His foot tapped in rapid, staccato beats against the floor, and he looked everywhere but me. Something wasn’t quite right, and it seemed like it was more than him just being embarrassed about his stutter, or uncomfortable about my obvious attraction to him.
“Hey, did something happen? Is that why you got home early?” I asked, suddenly worried that he had been fired or worse, and I felt like an ass for not having realized earlier, just commandeering his time with my own mess.
When my words sunk in, it wasn’t just his face that fell—it was as if his whole body sank in on itself, and a tremble started in his hands that seemed to spread like wildfire to the rest of him. My heart lurched, and I almost wished I hadn’t said anything.
“I had a b-b-b-bad encounter with a c-client,” he said, so soft and tight that I had to lean in to hear him. “The b-b-b-bastard—”
Javi got so frustrated with himself he punched the couch, a swift jab that I could feel the power of through the cushions. Then he was signing as he spoke, and I realized that his stutter must be why he was so fluent in ASL. “He t-t-tried to f-f-f-fuck m-me. In the b-b-bathroom at work.”
I didn’t doubt that Javi had been able to protect himself, but something inside of me raged that he’d had to protect himself. And at work, no less. That someone had thought they could take from him without his permission, this man who’d already been through so much. I’d only heard a fraction of his story tonight, I was sure, but it was enough to know he’d had it rough growing up and didn’t need more bad memories added to that.
“Are you okay? Did you know him? What happened to him?” Javi shook his head hard, like he was trying to shake off the encounter, so I quickly added, “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”
He inhaled deeply and held it. When he released the breath, he squared his shoulders. “It’s okay. I d-didn’t know him. B...b-but he grabbed me and wouldn’t let me go, s-s-so I punched him. Reagan k-kicked him out and let me g-go home.”
Oh, God, how I wanted to sweep in and make everything okay for him somehow—but I couldn’t. We weren’t...well, we didn’t have that kind of friendship, at least not yet. I had no idea how I could make any of this better for him.
And after all that had happened to him, he’d come to my rescue tonight. That kind of generosity was rare, and I snuck another glance at him. His brows were pressed tight and he was chewing on his lip, looking truly vulnerable for the first time. He was so, so beautiful. Without thinking, I