Chapter Nineteen
Wes
I’m trying to pack my things as evening falls outside my temporary room at the Premiere. It’s slow going, partly because I don’t know where I’ll end up yet.
A bone-deep exhaustion weighs me down. Still, I haven’t been able to sleep. Or eat. On the table there’s a half-finished bowl of miso soup and some rice that the chef downstairs was kind enough to make for me, but even that tasted like ash.
At first, I ignore the knock at the door. There’s nobody here I want to talk to. But I keep expecting law enforcement to have questions for me about what happened, so maybe that’s finally them.
When I swing open the door, I wish I hadn’t. “Gina.”
Next time check the peep hole first, idiot.
She gives me a familiar look of worry before bustling inside. She’s got her purse and a cooler bag slung over her shoulder. Heading home for the night, then.
“Max said you called out sick for the rest of the week. I wanted to be sure you were okay.”
My brain’s been on a delay since this morning. Her words take a moment to catch up with me. “What?”
“God. You don’t have a fever do you?” She puts the back of her hand to my cheek. My forehead. Something she’s done a thousand times over the years and now my nerve endings can’t handle her soft touch.
I flinch away. “Gina, what are you doing here?”
“Max said you were sick. I was worried.” The weird thing is, she looks sincere. Her eyes are wide and watery, her brow furrowed. She hasn’t looked concerned about me that way in a long while. I don’t know why she is now.
Unless she thinks sick means the cancer came back. Even so, my health is no longer her problem.
“I’m not sick. I was fucking kidnapped.”
She rears back, gripping her cooler bag for dear life. I might as well have slapped her. “What?”
“On my way back from looking at an apartment.” The one that wasn’t actually available. “Someone hit me, and—” I won’t get into Troy and Adam with her. “—a couple of other guys from behind in the employee lot.”
“Oh my God. Are you okay?”
“Is that a real question? I got fucking kidnapped.” You wouldn’t believe it, but I used to walk on eggshells around her. I really did.
She shakes her head. “Max didn’t say. He, uh, mostly wanted to know when you’d be back at work.”
I breathe out hard through my nostrils, as if I can expel all the weariness and confusion in one forceful breath.
“Look, I don’t have the energy to argue with you, but in case you weren’t aware, your boyfriend is kind of a dick.
I feel like a truck hit me. I don’t even know where I’m going to be living in a few days.
I need some time, Gina. Away from work, and no offense, but away from you. ”
She bites her lip, tears threatening to spill over. I don’t know if I’ve still got drugs in my system or I’m just at my wit’s end, but why is she crying when she’s not the one who could have died?
“Right. I guess I deserve that. Just, uhm… Will you let me know if there’s anything I can do?”
“Probably not.” No, I did not mean to say that aloud. For someone whose job it is to speak diplomatically to all manner of entitled assholes, I’m doing a real shit job of it right now.
Dammit. Pretty soon I need this woman to sign off on our divorce agreement. Pissing her off won’t work in my favor.
Still. Funny how after everything that’s happened, the wrath of my angry ex doesn’t hold the weight that it used to.
All at once, the mental roller coaster starts again.
First, it’s anticipation. Climbing high, remembering how oddly arousing it was to have Adam and Troy touch me in that charged environment.
The tingle and buzz of the pills in my system.
The wonder and newness of it all. The free fall of coming harder than I have in my entire life.
The horror of Adam collapsing and needing to go to the hospital.
“Gina.”
She’s still staring at me. Oddly, curiously, as if I’m a stranger. Maybe I am. I can’t say I’ve wanted to look at myself in the mirror much since we were rescued. When I do, I feel like I can see every moment of the past few days on my skin. Every lick, every mark, every bruise.
The person looking back at me isn’t someone I’ve met before.
“Yeah. Sorry. You’re right.” She turns to go but then stops again with her hand on the doorknob. “It’s weird, isn’t it? We spent so many years looking after each other…”
A tension in my chest I hadn’t been fully aware of seems to loosen. “I know. But I’m not your responsibility anymore.”
“Still. I am around if you need a friend.”
I nod, but reaching out to her is the last thing I intend to do. Gina’s sad smile as she leaves tells me she already knows.
Once she’s gone, I head to the bathroom for a glass of water, again studiously ignoring my reflection. I’ll have to face it eventually. Just…not now.
I’ve barely filled my water glass when there’s another knock at the door. “I told you I’m fine,” I say as I pull it open.
But it isn’t Gina on the other side of the door. It’s Troy.
“Expecting someone else?” He wiggles his eyebrows playfully, in spite of his obvious exhaustion.
The sight of him standing in front of me makes my breath catch. “I really need to start checking the peephole.”
The truth is, I’m glad he’s here. Even though nothing about us makes sense and the smart thing would be to close the door.
Instead, I lean against the doorframe. Fatigue covers me like a weighted blanket, as if my body finally feels ready to wind down. “What brings you by?”
He rubs his forehead. “Adam’s perky nurse kicked me out. He needs his rest. I went home, but it’s weird being there by myself.”
“Perhaps if you’d explained to them that you’re medically unable to be farther than ten feet apart without losing oxygen, they’d have let you stay.”
He shakes a finger at me. “You joke, but it’s kind of pathetically fucking true. We’ve been looking out for each other for so long I don’t really know who I am when I’m flying solo.”
There are a lot of things I could be feeling right now. Sympathy. Maybe disgust at that level of codependency. But that burning sensation in my sternum? If I didn’t know better, I’d think it was jealousy. Or envy.
Troy leans to the side, mirroring my lean against the doorframe. “Also, it seemed like we should talk. Without a bunch of our nosy friends around. What you did when you stood up and volunteered, that was…” He trails off with a shake of his head.
“Stupid.”
His expression is naked and raw when he says, “Stupidly fucking brave.”
That’s… Wow.
There’s something I don’t think I’ve ever been called. A warm sensation washes over me, and I find myself stepping backward into the room.
“You want to come in?”
He considers me for a moment, as if he’s not sure if the invitation is sincere. To be honest, I’m not sure what I’m doing here. All I know is that I’ve been pacing the floor in this room until I’m dizzy, unable to make sense of the jumble of thoughts in my head.
The list of people I can relate to right now is extremely short, and one of them happens to be standing right in front of me. The slight swelling on his jaw and the shadowy bruising around his eye do nothing to diminish how glad I am to see him.
Troy steps inside. Closes the door. Leans back against it with his arms crossed over his chest. I’m waiting, quiet and still, except for the thunder booming in my chest.
Then, with a blur of movement, everything’s in fast-forward.
It’s me who moves first, I think, rushing blindly until I realize I’m in the middle of my hotel room with my arms wrapped around an off-the-clock sex worker, a man who fucked me so hard I’ve felt empty ever since, and I’m clinging to him with the desperation of a man dangling over a chasm.
I’ve been slipping since I walked back into this hotel. He’s my rope.
His kiss is bruising, almost punishing. If it hurts him, I can’t tell. “I could fucking kill you,” he murmurs between kisses. “You could have gotten yourself killed. That guy could have wanted one of his goons to fuck you, and not us.”
“I know. I know.” All those possible disastrous outcomes have passed through my head. “I couldn’t let Nadia?—”
Troy’s shaking hands come to either side of my face. “I know, Kitten.”
God, that name. That stupid goddamn pet name made me want to punch him in the face the first time I heard it, but now its tenderness is making my eyes burn.
Troy’s teeth sink into my bottom lip. The tang of blood hits me, but then his tongue is sliding into my mouth to sweep it away.
“Sorry,” he whispers.
“I’m not. I’m not sorry about any of it.” It must be true, because I haven’t been able to speak a single word of bullshit since I got back.
“What can I do? What do you want?” he asks.
“I don’t know. I’m too tired to even think right now.”
To my surprise, Troy steps back, still with his hands on either side of my face. For the first time, he gives me a smile that looks genuine. “There’s my answer, then.”
Next thing I know, he’s pushing me toward the bed. He’s grasping greedily at my belt buckle, tugging at the button of my slacks, and I’m surprised to find myself doing the same with him. We flop together in a heap on the mattress, with our hands still grabbing and clothes flying everywhere.
It’s not the same buzzy fever dream as before, but I’m caught in this strange place between awake and asleep where everything feels floaty and surreal.
“Lay back, babe. Let me make you feel good.”
While he kisses his way down my body, I sink into the mattress. I moan when he wraps his hand around my cock. The usual embarrassment hits, but it’s dimmer and duller than before.
Mostly, it’s fascination. This hand with rough, sure fingers and large knuckles. Troy’s bright eyes and wicked smile. How good it all feels.
“Lemme ask you something, Kitten. What’s with you seeming so embarrassed about your own dick?”
My face burns. Slapping my hand over my own eyes doesn’t help. “Ugh. It’s stupid. Toward the end, things between my ex and me got pretty toxic. We both felt trapped. She, uh, made it pretty clear I’d let her down. In every way possible.”
Understanding dawns. “Kitten.” He’s studying me, his gaze sliding back and forth between my face and my erection in his hands, with lust in his hooded eyes. “Let me tell you a story.”
“Right now?” I look pointedly at his hand on my cock.
“No better time.” He stills his hand and looks me in the eye. It’s a little awkward, lying here like this, but the longer we do it the less strange it feels.
“Fine. Tell me your story.”
“So, shortly after Adam and I landed in Belle Argo, we got hooked up with Brennan, who in turn hooked us up with a client who was in town for a week on business. Aussie guy. Big. Taller than you. The man had a battering ram where his dick belonged.”
“Why are you telling me this while we’re naked?”
“Even taking him nice and slow, I could hardly sit down for a week. My point, Kitten, is that bigger isn’t always better.
Your dick is just fine. Trust me, if I didn’t like it, I wouldn’t be here.
Aside from Adam, you’re the one person I don’t have to pretend with.
I’m here because I choose to be. Because I want you. ”
In this moment, the reminder of what he does for a living isn’t the bucket of cold water I’d have thought it would be. Right now, it’s so good to simply feel connected again. Why does touching him feel more meaningful than anything I experienced with my wife?
It’s a problem for later.
Shoving away the doubts and insecurities, I reach down to grasp him as well. He’s longer than me, but thinner, with a strange swath of scar tissue on the side. Curious, I slide my thumb over the spot.
“Circumcision went a little sideways,” he murmurs.
Nodding my understanding, I resist the urge to ask how he can be so confident in his nudity in spite of it.
Do I mind it? Does it change the way he made me feel? The way he’s making me feel now?
I’m here because I choose to be.
No. I feel right for the first time in days. Months. Ages. So maybe he’s right. Maybe a dick’s appearance doesn’t matter.
He captures my mouth with his again, and I’m done for.
I’m whining into him, gasping for breath as I fuck into his hand.
Our hands and mouths on each other are fast and dirty, every kiss and lick and rough swipe stirring my blood.
Troy has this magic way of finding the exact spots that make me moan, and I can’t even care about why.
Lightning shoots through my veins when his fingers find my hole, pressing gently. In spite of the ache, I’m suddenly buzzing, right on the verge, and unable to hold back.
My back bows with the force of my release. My mouth stretches open so wide there’s a twinge in my still-bruised jaw. When he spills into my hand moments later, I relish the sticky heat on my fingers.
It’s tangible proof that I’ve pleased him. When I grab a tissue to clean off, I almost regret wiping him away.
Troy collapses on the bed, facing me, looking heavy-lidded and wrung out. I did this to him. Me.
I’m here because I choose to be.
His glassy, tired gaze and the shallow breaths puffing from between his lips must match my own. I run my hand over his chest as it rises and falls.
“Holy shit, Kitten. Not bad for your first time doing hand stuff.”
“You really mean that?” I regret the vulnerability in the question as soon as I ask.
For a rare moment, Troy’s face softens. “I’m getting the sense that you haven’t had a whole lot of people say nice things to you.”
“Says the man who accused me of being a homophobe and then insisted on jerking me off to prove I wasn’t.”
“No.” He kisses the center of my chest, and I find my fingers tangling in his hair. “I jerked you off when you said you had a problem with PJ being controlling with Fallon. I was challenging your assumptions.”
“Ah. Makes total sense now.” Sort of. I don’t know. I’m too damn tired. There are so many other things I want to say, but my eyelids weigh a ton, and my brain is slowly grinding to a halt.
“I think we both need some rest, Kitten.”
“Mmm.”
I’m half aware of Troy pulling tissues from the bedside dispenser to clean off. He reaches for the soft blanket I stole from the linen closet at what used to be my house and throws it over us both.
He doesn’t ask if he can stay, and I don’t offer. It’s just something that happens. After all the recent upheaval, this man wrapping himself around me is the only thing that makes sense.
I’m here because I choose to be.
As his breathing evens out, I realize I’m choosing him too. For maybe the first time in my life, I’m choosing someone for myself. Both of them, since I know they’re a package deal.
I barely register my fingers curling into the hair at his nape as I drift off.