Chapter 7
Chapter
Seven
Fox
I’ve been staring at my phone all night. It’s been twenty-four hours since I saw her. That’s fine. I haven’t called a woman in a decade. I don’t know what to do and I feel like the rules have changed. Ten possible text message drafts are sitting in my Notes app.
I didn’t see her today, but I purposely got to work late.
I have a few accounts I need to work on, and then there are the “other” accounts that, if I don’t clean up, Alana’s friends will be mad at me.
It’s boring investment banking. About ninety percent of my accounts are legit small-business angel funding, but there are a few accounts that started doing shady shit.
It’s the Four Families crime syndicate. When I first started, they made it very clear my job was to keep them off the radar of law enforcement.
Funny, in the last five years, the numbers are more and more legit, like there’s been a shift in management and they’re trying to go clean. I don’t know. I just do as I’m told.
Kitten runs through my mind constantly. The spreadsheet column for withholdings is pink, and every time I go to update it, I think of her.
How she felt in my arms, the way my heart shattered as she sobbed on our first night. And God—her taste. What was I thinking? One year, I’m almost at thirty clients and not once have I made skin-to-skin contact. But a few minutes with her, and shit—all my values are out the window.
I shouldn’t see her again.
Twice is enough.
She’s safe and secure. She knows what she likes—that’s what matters. Besides, if she wants to go to the club, someone else can service her. Like Darren. He can do it. He can have his hands all over her. He doesn’t have the no-contact rule. It’s not like she’s going to know. Right?
Darren can get her off and she can scream his name into his ears. My heart clenches and crawls up my back. He can call her a good girl. My knuckles turn white and my breathing changes. He can peer into her big, beautiful eyes that make me hope for a future again.
“Ugh!” I bury my head under my pillow and scream. Once the scream ends, I pull the pillow off my face to see Bear standing in my bedroom door.
“Got anything you want to share with the class there, buddy?”
My thumb rubs against the ring on my left hand. “Should I text her?”
“Who? The woman you’ve been crushing on for months, and then saved. The same woman who openly asked to see you again. Her?” Bear rolls his eyes and puts his hands on the top of my door frame, leaning into my room. “Yes.”
“But she doesn’t want me, she wants Fox.”
“Dude, you are Fox. He’s just a cosplay of an adult without mental health issues.”
I hate how right he is. But no, Fox is cooler, kinder, and everything I wish I could be. He was a character I created after it happened. The mask was so no one would ask any questions. And now, I feel more comfortable as Fox than I do as myself.
“I went down on her.”
“Shitttttt.” Bear drags the word out. He knows my rules: don’t touch them, don’t feel them, and don’t taste them.
No skin-to-skin contact. Don’t get off. I put the no-touching rule in place because I didn’t want them to see how unaroused I am.
I can count on one hand how many times I needed to rub one out afterward.
Last night, once Kitten left, I took care of my erection at the club, and then thinking about seeing her again made me rock hard in the shower, so that delayed my schedule this morning too.
Bear leans forward, stretching his arms, rocking back and forth. “Well, it was a stupid rule.”
My thumb rubs against the ring. “Do you think it’s okay?”
He rolls back onto his feet and stands up straight. “I think you are allowed to be happy. And if she makes you happy, then I’m all for it.” He’s silent as he flicks off the lights. I like the darkness anyway.
I pop my meds on the nightstand and finally hit send.
Me: Hey, Kitten.
Ten drafts, that’s the best I came up with.
Kitten: Fox?
Me: Did you get home ok?
Kitten: Yeah, no issues.
Good. A quiet night is a safe one.
Me: Did the front desk send you a list?
Kitten: I’ve spent more time in incognito mode today than I have in the last three years. Lots of researching terms.
Me: Well don’t do it on your work computer.
Kitten: The last thing I need is HR questioning my browser history.
Kitten: Question
Probably about terms or positions.
Me: Go on
Kitten: The guys at the Alpha Dogggz podcast seem like they eat crayons—which flavor do you think is their favorite?
Me: Crayons don’t come in flavors…
Kitten: They do if you eat them.
I don’t know how to respond to her, so it's time to deflect.
Me: Do you have any questions about the checklist?
Kitten: Where’s your list?
Me: Huh?
Kitten: What happens if there’s something on my list that you don’t do?
Fuck. Why is she so concerned about me?
Me: No skin-to-skin contact. It’s pretty easy.
Kitten: But …
Me: I know. I broke the rules once. It won’t happen again.
Kitten: You’ll never touch me, kiss me, or fuck me.
Me: No.
God, that sounds so cold
Me: But you’ll still get off, promise.
The dots bounce on my screen, then vanish. Where did she go? Fuck. Did I lose her? Sweat beads at my hairline. She’s gone.
Me: Kitten, you there? — delete
Me: Are you ok? — delete
Me: Hello? — delete
Every time I try to come up with something to say, my brain hits a brick wall. It feels like ten lifetimes when her message comes through.
Kitten: Is it a germ thing, or is it me?
Me: Neither—just my personal rules.
Kitten: And your other clients are OK with it?
Me: Yes.
Tell her the truth.
Me: Last night was the only time I’ve even broken the rule.
Me: You’re dangerous, Kitten.
Kitten: Roar … I am mighty. Very dangerous roar.
She sends a GIF of a lion jumping into a box, flopping on its back, and roaring, with text that says, “Apex predator.” I want to make some sort of cutting remark, remind her not to be rude, but as my thumb rubs against my ring, I remember that once, long ago, I wasn’t so cynical and maybe she’s just joking.
She’s quiet for a few minutes.
Kitten: What should I wear?
Me: Whatever you want.
Me: It won’t be on long.
Kitten: ::Blush::
Me: But you look good in pink.
Fuck … why? Why am I telling her that? Stupid.
Kitten: Done … and thanks for noticing.
Kitten: See you in two nights?
Me: Yes. Don’t forget to submit your forms—can’t do anything unless we follow policies.
Kitten: White.
What does she mean white? I don’t understand. I grab a water bottle from my nightstand as I try to craft a response.
Kitten: That’s the Alpha Dogggz’ favorite crayon flavor … because they’re racist.
Water flies out of my mouth and all over my phone. She’s cute, sexy as hell, and funny.
It’s not a matter of when I will break the rules—it’s how quickly.