by L. A. Witt
“Keep—” He raised an eyebrow. “You’re joking.”
“I wish. Basically, if I want to keep my job, I’ve got to keep you happy.”
I’d never seen Rick’s eyes that wide. He opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. As if he wanted to say something but couldn’t.
Now it was his turn to start pacing. He made it all the way across the room and halfway back before he spat, “I can’t even fit this all into my head.”
“Tell me about it.”
“I’m having a meeting with Dion and Lila first thing in the morning.” He shook his head. “No way in hell are we working with a company that treats their employees like that.”
Panic surged through me. “Rick, please. Don’t. If you pull your business from the firm, there’s going to be a hundred people out of jobs.”
He stared at me. “I can’t keep pouring that kind of money into a place that’s essentially blackmailing their own employees.”
And how could I tell him to do exactly that? But if he didn’t… If he pulled his account… If Mitchell & Forsythe lost that kind of money…
“Tell me what you want to do.” He touched my face. “I’ll follow your lead.”
I squeezed my eyes shut. “No pressure, right?”
“Well, we have the weekend to figure it out.”
“Do you think that’s enough?” I met his gaze again. “Because I’ve been trying to unravel this all week and…”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” He caressed my cheek. “You’ve been letting this eat you alive, on your own?”
“What could I do? I didn’t want to put this on you, because I knew it would…” All the air left my lungs. “I knew it would make things weird.’
Rick avoided my eyes. “What does this mean for us, then? Because it’s obviously affecting us.”
“I…” Panic and God knew what other emotions tangled behind my ribs. “I have no idea.”
“Neither do I.” But then he came toward me and slid his hands over my hips. “We don’t have to decide anything tonight. We have time to think things over. No one has to know we’ve had this conversation.”
But you know. And I know.
He touched my face. “I’m not going to give them the satisfaction of fucking this up.”
“Neither am I.” I wrapped my arms around him. “To be honest, the only thing I’m sure of right now is what I want.”
He swallowed. “Which is?”
“You.”
We locked eyes. He held his breath. I held mine.
And finally, I grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him to me, and his kiss shook all the apprehension out of my body. The bullshit still existed, but for tonight, it was banished. He needed me, I needed him, and nothing else mattered.
Without a word—hell, without breaking the kiss more than we had to—we started pulling off clothes. Step by step, we inched toward his bed. Piece by piece, we stripped away the layers between us.
Wrapped up in each other and not a single stitch of clothing, we sank into bed together. My God. This I could handle. Just two naked bodies, two turned-on men, and some lube and condoms within reach.
We wound up one our sides, kissing and stroking each other. Apparently I could still get it up.
Why wouldn’t I? I was with Rick. In bed. Naked. Turned on. Of course I could—
Right. That.
I forced those thoughts out of my head and fucked harder into Rick’s hand. “I want to fuck you.”
“Please do,” he breathed. “Please…”
The soft plea gave me goose bumps.
“Get on—” I hesitated. “On your back.”
Rick eyed me, but then he did what he was told, and I was genuinely surprised he’d obeyed. It was like I couldn’t even hear the authority in my own voice anymore. I wasn’t a Dom tonight. I was a submissive taking orders from an invisible Dom and carrying them out on another submissive.
But this wasn’t about being a Dom or a sub. Not tonight. After all, I didn’t have to be a Dom all the time—I’d had a spectacular sex life with Karen, and she wasn’t into kink at all—so I should’ve been able to function now, but I couldn’t. Having the Dom rug yanked out from under my feet had thrown me completely off on every level. Every touch meant something. Or it should’ve been something that it wasn’t.
I told myself I didn’t care who was on top, but every option had subtext and meanings and implications that threatened to kill the mood. I could be on top, but then who was I kidding?
Especially since, no matter which way we spun it, I wasn’t in control in here. Neither was Rick. Mitchell was in control. The fucking firm was in control.
Rick broke the kiss, and the instant he met my eyes, I knew it was over. I couldn’t read his gaze to save my life, couldn’t tell if I was seeing pity or annoyance or straight-up confusion, but it wasn’t a look I wanted to see in a lover’s eyes when I was already second-guessing my every move. When I was questioning my own motivation for being this close to him.
I lifted myself off him. Blowing out a breath, I shook my head and sat up. “I can’t… I can’t do this.”
He pushed himself up onto his elbow. “What?”
“I’m sorry.” I rubbed both hands over my face and then dropped them into my lap. “I can’t.”
He touched my arm, and it took all I had not to recoil from him. “Is this about—”
“You know what it’s about.”
Our eyes met. He grimaced and lowered his gaze.
“I’m so sorry.” I raked my fingers through my hair. “I just…can’t shake…”
“I know. You’ve been a million miles away all night.”
I winced. “I’m sorry.” Why did every apology sound even more useless than the last? “I have no idea what to do about this.”
“Neither do I.” He moved his hand to the side of my neck, and when our eyes met, he said, “We don’t have to do this if you’re not in the mood.”
The shitty thing was, I wanted to be in the mood. Desperately. There was nothing in the world I wanted more in that moment than to tie Rick six ways from Sunday, fuck him into the ground and make him come so hard he cried. But I may as well have left my libido in the conference room with my bosses while they’d laid down that ultimatum, and no matter how much I wanted to, I couldn’t make myself want this.
And I couldn’t fake it, and even if I could, there was no way in hell I would with him. I refused to give him any less than the real thing.
He pushed himself up and kissed me. “Let’s go get something to eat, maybe have a glass of wine and just watch TV for a while. Sleep on it tonight. We can talk more in the morning.”
I nodded, drawing him in for another kiss. “I could go for another Golden Girls marathon tonight.”
That brought a smile to his lips, if not his eyes. “Yeah. Me too.” He took my hand. “Let’s go downstairs. I’ll order some pizza, and while we wait, we can find a bottle of wine to go with it.”
I smiled as much as I could. “Sounds great.”
It did sound great. So why did I still feel like shit?
* * * * *
Every night I’d spent here, I’d been thankful that Rick had opted for a smaller bed. Tonight, I wished he’d indulged in a gigantic one. Maybe one with enough room for the two of us and this unrelenting silence that had wedged itself between us. If we were going to sleep this far apart, we might as well not feel each other’s body heat. But what was a miserable night without feeling the presence of someone I wished I could be holding but was too afraid to touch?
We’d barely said two words the rest of the night. The wine had only depressed me, and it must’ve had the same effect on him, since he was pretty sedate after dinner. Golden Girls couldn’t get a laugh out of either of us. Finally, we’d given in and gone to bed, and nothing in the world cut as deep as being this close to him and this far from him at the same time.
Fuck. This was stupid. We hadn’t fought. One of us hadn’t wronged the oth
er. But the air throbbed with the kind of tension that followed a screaming match. A metaphorical toothache that had shown up, taken residence and refused to be ignored.
I didn’t toss or turn all night because I didn’t want him to know how restless I was. He didn’t move either, but he sure as fuck wasn’t asleep. Knowing him this well was a double-edged sword—I knew his breathing patterns. I knew when he was asleep, when he was staring at the ceiling, when frustration had him hanging by a thread. Sometimes he drifted off, and sometimes I did too, but when I’d come around again, he’d be awake, and only a few minutes had passed according to the bedside clock. This was going to be one long night.
Maybe the shock just needed to wear off. I’d dropped the bomb on him tonight. It needed to sink in for him. I needed to make sense of it myself.
But deep down, I was sure this elephant had set up shop in every room we’d ever be in together, and it wasn’t leaving until we found a way around the ultimatum.
I racked my brain all night but came up empty. Every potential solution promised to make things worse than they already were. I had nothing.
At six, Rick’s alarm brought curses from both of us. He was already awake, and so was I. Neither of us spoke. We showered separately. Brushed our teeth in silence. Dressed in silence. Walked downstairs in silence.
And then we stood in silence in his kitchen, drinking coffee and staring at the floor. Well, I stared at the floor. I didn’t know where he was looking, and couldn’t bring myself to find out. Instead, I focused on getting some caffeine into my system and not nodding off where I stood.
He spoke first. “So what happens now?”
“Which part?” I lifted my gaze. “My job or…”
We locked eyes. Or us?
He shifted his weight. “Let’s start there.”
“I’m not really sure, to be honest. Part of me wants to walk in there, tell them to shove it up their asses and leave. But then what?” I set my coffee cup down and pushed it away. “It’d be liberating for a minute, but I’d be screwing myself. I wouldn’t even qualify for unemployment at that point.”
“Have you considered a lawyer?”
“Absolutely. But what will that even accomplish? A lawsuit could take months or even years. I still have to eat and pay for my kids to go to school. Not to mention attorney fees.”
“Let me pay for—”
“No.” I put up a hand. “Out of the question.”
“Jon, you shouldn’t have to go in and work in that environment.” He put his own coffee cup down. “These people are literally telling you to fuck me or lose your job.”
I winced. “I know.”
“I don’t want to face them either. They’re—”
“If you pull your contracts, everyone there is fucked.”
Rick pursed his lips. “But what about you? I can’t give money to people who treat you that way.”
I sighed. “I don’t know. I just…don’t fucking know.”
He watched me silently for a moment. “Let’s be honest about this, though. Now that we both know, it’s hard to ignore.”
“Yeah.” I kneaded the back of my neck. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it at all.”
Another silent moment went by, and all the while, his gaze was fixed on my fingers. Any other time, I’d have fully expected him to offer to rub my neck and shoulders for me, but he didn’t. I didn’t have to ask why.
All at once, he released a long breath, and his shoulders dropped. “Let’s…” He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know if I can do this, to be honest.”
I wanted nothing more than to beg him to reconsider, but all I could do was push out a breath and slump against the counter. “I don’t know if I can either.”
Silence fell. It dropped itself between us, pushed us further and further apart with each passing second.
“So what do we do? About…this?” I asked after a while, and regretted it as soon as I did.
“Don’t ask questions,” my father had warned me when I was a kid, “unless you know you want the answers.”
Rick met my gaze. Immediately, my heart sank. Like so many times before, the answer was there in his eyes, clear as day, and I knew the words before he spoke them: “Maybe we should take some time. Figure out where to go from here.”
“So…a break.”
“I guess?” He shook his head. “I don’t know. I can’t really see any other way.” His eyebrows knitted together.
Yeah. There was another way. It couldn’t have been more obvious if it was written on the wall in flashing red neon.
But I couldn’t just walk away from my job. Get another job, tell the partners to go fuck themselves—it was a lot easier on paper than it was in practice. Standing here in a kitchen that had probably cost more than my entire house, I was all too aware that replacing my income would be a drop in Rick’s bucket. And I cringed, mentally begging him not to make that offer.
Don’t go there. Please, please, don’t go there.
You could pay every bill I have a hundred times over, and I’d never be able to look you in the eye again.
If you really know me, you won’t go there.
A solid minute passed, and he finally lowered his gaze, staring at the marble tiles beneath our feet. “So I guess that’s it.”
“I guess it is.” My stomach turned to lead. I couldn’t decide if it was better or worse that he hadn’t gone there. Did he know me well enough not to suggest bailing me out financially? Or was he beyond considering solutions and had just resigned himself to this?
I cleared my throat. “I should go. I’ll, um, get my stuff from upstairs.”
Rick nodded, but he didn’t speak.
I went upstairs. He didn’t follow. While I gathered everything that had taken up residence here—a razor, a toothbrush, a couple of changes of clothes—and stuffed them in my overnight bag, he didn’t come into the bedroom. Packed and ready, I went back downstairs to the foyer.
In the foyer, I rocked from my heels to the balls of my feet. Did I go to the kitchen and say good-bye? Did I wait for him to come in here to do the same? Or did I walk out and hope he understood I just didn’t want to force either of us through more painful conversation?
Maybe I was a coward, but I took the last option. With my heart in my throat, I adjusted my bag on my shoulder and opened the front door.
For the first time since we’d been seeing each other, I walked out of Rick’s place without a promise of what we’d do next time, without a long kiss to back up that promise, and without looking back.
This wasn’t a split. Was it? There’d been no screaming or saying things we’d wish we could take back. No one had declared that this was over and we could never be in the same room—my workplace notwithstanding—again. I still had feelings for him, and had no reason to believe he didn’t still have feelings for me.
But I was leaving, and he wasn’t stopping me.
This didn’t feel erasable. This felt like “a break” the same way moving out fourteen years ago had felt like a “trial separation”—nothing had been set in stone yet, nothing signed or finalized, but there’d been an unspoken certainty that there was no going back.
As I drove away, refusing to even glance at Rick’s tree-shrouded house in the rearview, I didn’t feel anything. I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to feel, but numb didn’t seem right.
The motherfuckers had won. They didn’t like one of their lowly modelers dating their top client, and even though they had too much business savvy and not enough power to stop that relationship, they’d zeroed in on its Achilles heel. Whether they’d understood or not how effective it would be, they’d figured out how to wipe their stink all over our relationship until it became unpalatable. Until Rick and I couldn’t touch or even look at each other without smelling the mood-killing presence of Mitchell & Forsythe.
At a stop sign, I leaned back against my seat and closed my eyes.
So it was over. This was how it ende
d.
And it was cold, cold comfort that I still had a job, because I had to go to that job today. Show my face, do my work, be ready to take orders from the people who’d found their way into my relationship and casually burned it to the ground. There was no way out of it. No way around it.
The only thing I could do right now was go home, get ready for work and do everything I could to keep myself out of the unemployment line.
I opened my eyes and kept driving.
Chapter Thirty-Two
This whole thing was going to eat me alive.
Thank God Rick wasn’t in the office today, but I still couldn’t breathe. Not with that ultimatum wrapped around my throat, and the pressure from on high pushing down on my shoulders. If my bosses found out Rick and I had split up, I was screwed. And every time I saw one of them, even if they were just passing by the Zone’s windows, the resentment threatened to boil up into unrestrained fury. Splitting up with Rick was starting to become a moot point, because I was going to get fired for bludgeoning one of the partners with a keyboard.
My concentration was shot. Every time I’d talk myself into a simple task, it wouldn’t be long at all before I was staring blankly, not even sure what I’d meant to do or why, only that my mind kept going back to this morning. And yesterday. And back to this morning.
It was impossible to count the number of times in my career when I’d stared down a model or tried to make sense of a blueprint, all the while convinced I wasn’t going to make it through the day, or the hour, or to the end of this project. Distraction. Exhaustion. Frustration. It happened. And every time, I’d powered through.
But this time, there was nothing inside my skull except a bullshit ultimatum and a breakup that hurt way too much for something that didn’t end with screaming and things that shouldn’t have been said.
I pushed the blueprint aside. It wasn’t happening today. It just…wasn’t.
Without speaking to anyone, I walked out of the NSFW Zone. Upstairs, I tapped on Marie’s door with my knuckle.
“Come in.”
I stepped into her office and shut the door behind me. “You have a minute?”