60. SIXTY
SIXTY
TWO DAYS LATER...
Gray refused to come home with me after we made up, so I waited.
Since Xavier and Grant made their shady deal with me, things at OAT have been business as usual.
Alex was thrilled. I’ve been using the last few days to remove my mom’s things from my dad’s house, with the help of law enforcement.
I haven’t spoken to him since he called me a faggot and I don’t plan on it.
Come Monday, all his dirt will be aired out.
But it’s my birthday.
Thirty years old, and for the first time in my life, I don’t know what I’m doing. I know what I’ve been asked to do, and I will look into using my license, but right now, I want Gray.
I want him with me.
It feels wrong to ask him to go to a hotel after everything, but I don’t think he’ll want to come to my house either. And for what I’m craving, I doubt my physician’s house is the best place for it.
Can I pick you up after work?
Gray’s first day was yesterday, and he was so exhausted he went back to Perry’s house and crashed.
I’m sure he’ll be equally as tired today, but I’m hoping he’ll let me take him out.
At the very least, see him for a few hours.
I drum my fingers on my desk while staring off.
He’s definitely busy, so that’s why I haven’t received a reply yet.
Just when I’m about to send another text, begging instead of asking, Alex finally shows up.
He asked if he could come in late, to which I, of course, said yes.
My assistant is…disheveled. His tie is crooked, and his usually perfect hair sticks up like fingers have been raking through it. And as he limp-walks deeper into my office, I catch an unusual smell on him. Salty. Like the ocean.
“What’s that smell?” I ask, fanning my nose.
He blushes and bristles. “I’ve…been forced into a new hobby.”
That has my attention, distracting me from begging my boyfriend to let me see him. “Forced? Aren’t hobbies voluntary?”
“You would think ,” he says, exasperated, and falls into one of the chairs. “I never asked for this. And I’m distraught. ”
I stare at my assistant. “What happened?”
“My neighbors moved out. And they left a fish tank. Outside. In the snow. WITH FISH IN IT!” His hands fly to his hair, and he yanks on it dramatically.
“The scandal.” I clutch my chest.
“So naturally, I was forced into action. Not only are the fish cannibals , but they’re in puke green water.
And it smells like a rotten corpse. I’ve been trying to do damage control and clean it, but no one told me you can’t put water on fish.
Turns out, you need fancy water with special salt .
So they are all dying, and the man at the store refused to help me.
He said, and I quote, ‘do a water change and install a heater’.
Google is unhelpful. I don’t even know what a nitrate is ! ”
I laugh. I laugh fucking hard. “You were forced into this, you say?”
“Forced! Who leaves a tank full of mutant fish in the snow? Fish you can’t just put water in a bowl for? I had a goldfish when I was six. It lived until college. My mom took care of it, but still! She didn’t put fancy salt in that bowl. He was happy as a clam.”
I cover my mouth, watching my assistant fall apart.
“I’m going to need a week off, some Xanax, and a marine biologist to save these fish.” And he drops his head to my desk, narrowly missing his glasses.
Shaking my head, I grab my phone, and all his drama is forgotten.
Sweetheart: Sure. What’s the plan, birthday boy?
I pull up outside Gray’s work just as he exits the warehouse.
I hurry to get out of my car to grab the door for him.
He’s wearing a low-slung pair of jeans, dark brown work boots, and a long-sleeved yellow shirt.
Sweat clings to the tips of his bleach-blonde hair, and he looks a little dirty.
I wet my lips, blatantly checking him out.
He sees me mentally stripping him and blushes.
“Happy birthday.”
“Thank you,” I nearly growl, grabbing his hips and kissing him hard.
He laughs against my mouth, squirms in my hold, and shoves at my chest. “I’m dirty.”
“Don’t care.” I kiss him again, peppering his lips and cheeks until he laughs again. I’ll never get tired of hearing it. “I missed you.”
“Well, you have me for the entire weekend.”
Our arrangement will kill me, but I understand why it has to be this way at least for a while. Gray is thriving. And I can tell he feels more confident with this sense of independence. Only he can tell me when he will be ready to take the next step, so for now, I’ll take what he gives me.
“How did the fish fiasco go?” he asks once we return to the car.
“I guess we’ll find out after the week. I thought Alex was joking, but he really is taking a week off. That tank must be a cesspool.”
Gray snorts. “I’m sure he’ll figure it out. He’s a very resourceful guy.”
“That he is,” I agree and take his hand, pulling it over the middle console and into my lap. “Are you sure it’s okay? To go back there?”
“I’m not so easily triggered. You should know that.” He gives me a pointed look.
I bring our joined hands to my lips and kiss his knuckles. “Just wanted to make sure, baby.”
While I drive us, he tells me about his day, reviewing his coworkers' names and things he likes about the job. Then he rants for the second half of the drive about how sore his legs are from all the squatting. Good thing he won’t be needing them for what I have planned.
I'm so pent up when we reach the summer house that I almost don’t let him take a shower.
All day, I’ve daydreamed about the last time we were intimate.
All. Day.
At first, I thought I was being insensitive. Lusting and wanting as bad as I have been, but I see it for what it is. Lust is an extension of my love for him. And it isn’t a bad thing to crave his body just as badly as everything else. Besides, there is no reason to hold back anymore.
We are a couple. Couples fuck.
I swung by Abel’s place before picking Gray up, chatting with my doctor and grabbing the things Gray requested I get for him—an overnight bag, essentially.
Yesterday, I went a little nuts and bought him fresh clothes and toiletries for when he stays with me.
Gray was a little peeved about it but quickly let it go when I explained he can’t save if he’s spending.
I will always want to take care of him, no matter how independent he becomes.
When he comes out of the shower, wearing nothing but a pair of grey sweatpants, I suck in a harsh breath. He looks good —too good. All lithe limbs and subtle muscles. That tattooed left arm and hand glisten with fresh moisture. I wet my lips, taking every inch of him in.
“We are having sex, aren’t we?” he asks. The tone and way he says it rip me out of my lust haze.
I cross the main bedroom space, take his hands, and say as sincerely as possible, “We don’t have to. That’s not what this is.”
“You’ve said that before.” He jokes, but it’s a weak attempt.
“What’s wrong? Am I moving too fast?”
Shaking his head, he places a palm on my chest and takes a breath. “No. I just—what if I’m bad at it, you know? And I’m tired from working and…”
Crooking my finger under his chin, I lift it so he’s looking at me. “We never have to do anything you don’t want to. And I can guarantee you won’t be bad at it, sweetheart.”
“I don’t want to disappoint you. It’s your fucking birthday and the last thing anyone wants on their birthday is lame sex.”
“You won’t disappoint me.”
He still looks unsure, so I kiss his lips softly. “Come on, let’s go watch a movie.”
I turn to leave, but he grabs my wrist. “Will you show me what to do? To make it feel good for you?”
My body shudders in anticipation. “I will. But it’ll also feel good for you.”
“Do I have to wear the toy?”
“Do you want to?”
He shakes his head. “Not today."
“Tell me what you need.”
Sucking his lip between his teeth, Gray looks at the bed, then back at me. “I just want it to be us. No toys. And…” He blushes. “I want to look at you first.”
A pleased rumble crawls out of my throat as I grab his hips. “You can look as long as you like.”
The cutest, shakiest breath leaves him as he glides his palms over my chest. “Get undressed.”