Chapter Ten
Today, Nolan was staying late at work, and Meg wasn’t giving him the side-eye.
James was coming over after work to help resolve this whole hate campaign issue.
If Nolan could find proof that Carter and Euphoria were behind it, he’d have a clearer idea of what they were up against. As it stood, he’d gotten comfortable using the block feature—except he’d let the dogpile of them stack up today since James would be investigating.
“You’re jittery,” Sloan commented from his computer. “That ‘cause your boyfriend is coming in?”
Nolan’s stomach tightened at the tease. The crew didn’t know any better. They just knew Nolan had a fierce crush, especially Sloan. He peeked at the office door, but no one was there. “He’s off the table,” Nolan said. “I tried after we played together at Ouroboros.”
“Oh, shit, man,” Sloan said. “I’m sorry. Is he insane though? You’re the catch of the century.”
“Thanks, babe,” Nolan said softly. “Can’t seem to shut off the interest, but it’ll fade…
has to, right?” Even though the thought of it fading made his stomach twist too.
He loved the explosion of butterflies every time their arms brushed or their eye contact held.
He liked how they kept inching closer and closer to each other on the couch whenever they watched TV.
“And you’re living together?” Sloan continued. This was payback because Nolan had dropped a bomb on Sloan and Meg and refused to talk about it. Now his move was coming to bite him in the ass. “I’d ask if you’re a masochist, but I know you’re into that pain slut life.”
Nolan arched a brow. “Thanks for that. Think you and your boys can take pity on me and my current state of celibacy next Play Night?”
“Celibacy, my ass,” Sloan said. “You and Eva double teamed Pixie just a few weeks ago.”
Nolan swallowed, unable to explain that while he enjoyed play with others, he’d been craving a deeper emotional weight behind it. Feelings beyond friendship, something to banish the voices inside him that claimed he was too difficult to be loved.
“What about that hottie, Franco?” Sloan nudged again.
Nolan shrugged. “Maybe? Not sure if I want to revisit the past, but we’ve been talking.
” Conversation had been flowing at a normal pace, morning check-ins, easy jokes throughout the day, selfies.
Except Franco didn’t nearly spark him to life in the way James did.
Hard to focus on his ex while living with the guy he pined for.
“Enough of the inquisition. I’m going out there to get some work done. ”
He headed out to the cafe area of Whipped, which was quieter at this time of day. Mornings bustled, and the earlier evening was when their downstairs business picked up speed. Meg had a full roster of clients for the dungeon tonight.
“Thank fuck,” Fin called over from where they leaned behind the bar. Their purple hair was styled in a fauxhawk, and they wore a tee with the sleeves cut off, suspenders, and black jeans. “I’m so bored.”
“Cool, make me a drink,” Nolan teased.
Fin shot him a venomous look for about five seconds before they pasted a sweet as sugar grin on their lips. Honestly, the second expression was far more terrifying. “Sure thing.” They didn’t bother to ask what he wanted—no, instead, they launched into steaming milk and pulling shots.
Nolan found a table and set his laptop up there, the anticipation in his veins building with every passing minute. James would be here any second. Although he saw the guy on a daily basis now, he couldn’t get enough.
His phone buzzed. Franco.
You at the shop?
He shot him a message back.
Yep. No rest for the wicked.
The door creaked open, and his breath hitched. James needed to stop being so fucking gorgeous. Today, he wore a pearl gray button-down and charcoal suit jacket and slacks that made his rich brown skin gleam. He flashed a grin, his eyes alight with a charm that sent a shiver down Nolan’s spine.
“Thanks for waiting for me,” James said, approaching the table. “I wanted to deal with this on-site at Whipped in case we need to set up any safeguards for Meg here.”
Nolan shook his head and rose from his seat.
The temptation to plaster himself against James grew stronger than ever.
He must’ve instinctively leaned in, because a second later, James’s arms wrapped around him, pressing him into a hug.
The crush to his hot body made Nolan ache inside. Made him want to weep.
“Mind if I check things out on your laptop?” James asked.
“Go for it,” Nolan said. “I should be thanking you, since this has been a headache for the past few weeks. I’m fucking exhausted.”
“Nooooles,” Fin called. “Here’s your requested drink.”
“What can I get you?” Nolan asked James.
“Black tea would be great,” James said, settling in front of his laptop, spreading those thick thighs. God, what Nolan wouldn’t do to drop to his knees and crawl between them. Right. He needed to stop those thoughts now.
He strode to the bar to retrieve his mug. “Can I get a tea for James?”
“Sure,” Fin said. “He’s dealing with the troll nonsense, right?” They snagged an English Breakfast, plunked it in a cup, and added hot water. He was well aware of the way they kept glancing to the mug they’d set in front of him, clearly awaiting his reaction.
“It’s not poisoned, is it?” Nolan asked as he lifted the mug.
“Where’s the fun in that?”
He didn’t trust their melodic tone. He snagged a stirrer and clinked it around, once, twice, three times. Then he sniffed. It smelled latte-ish, with a light spice.
He narrowed his eyes at Fin. “Spit in it?”
Fin gave him a pert smile. “Only if you ask nicely.”
He snorted and took a sip. The taste of nutmeg crawled through his veins, and he spluttered.
His least favorite. Nutmeg was horrendous, like spiced soap.
Ugh, of fucking course. Fin erupted in peals of laughter.
They passed him the mug with the tea and then pulled out a second mug with a latte in it.
“Here’s a normal one,” they said, unashamed.
“That was on me,” Nolan said, picking up the mugs. “I should’ve expected that.”
“Go, have fun with your ‘roommate,’” Fin said, finger quotes and all. Nolan glanced at James, who thankfully kept his head ducked, the screen glowing on his face as he focused on the laptop. His coworkers would be the death of him.
Nolan sidled into the seat beside James, close enough that their thighs brushed. He should have pulled away, but just like at home, he didn’t. He craved the contact a little too much. It lit him up inside every time, and he wanted to hold onto the incandescent feeling.
“Is it going to be hard to trace down these folks?” Nolan asked.
James flashed him a smile, one Nolan felt like a physical caress, and he leaned down to grab his laptop from his bag. He opened it and turned it on. “Please. What sort of ex-hacker do you take me for?”
“Where did you pick that up?” Nolan asked, curiosity burning through him.
“Forums,” James said. “Once you dive into the rabbit hole, it’s easy to find resources when you know where to look. Plus, I’ve always had a knack with computers. Probably like you do with marketing.”
“You think?” Nolan asked.
James raised a brow. “I see the socials for Whipped. I also noticed how quickly you took my spark of an idea and turned it into a full-fledged event. That’s a skill not everyone has.”
Warmth flushed through Nolan. He rarely felt this seen, this deeply understood. James broke through all his walls with ease, yet an elephant remained in the room between them, a subject they dodged around. His ex-husband.
James had a weird screen of gibberish up that he didn’t realize a computer was capable of, strings of code, and he was performing some hackery magic Nolan couldn’t hope to understand.
Instead, he focused on James’s elegant fingers, the way they flew across the keyboard, the furrow in his brow, and the intense focus Nolan had been on the receiving end of before.
He’d masturbated to the memories of their last flogging session just last night, and he only felt a little guilty.
“Well, it’s looking like we have a more annoying problem on our hands,” James said, his frown increasing.
“What’s wrong?” Nolan asked, his warning bells ringing.
“First off, yeah, the two IP addresses involved are people associated with Euphoria, and they’re creating a mass amount of profiles to troll you. What’s annoying is that one of them works with Parker and me.”
“Oh, shit,” Nolan said. “That does suck.”
“Should’ve figured as much with how heavily he attempted to persuade Parker to go to Euphoria’s upcoming event,” James murmured. “He’s not aware I’m in the scene, and I plan to keep it that way.”
“Why does it not surprise me you compartmentalize,” Nolan said, a grin spreading on his lips. He’d started to draw lines on a napkin with a pen, connecting them one by one, the repetition soothing him.
“I just like keeping my work at work and my personal life away from there,” he said. “Parker being at the job is a bit of an adjust, but he’s been respectful of that boundary.”
“Think you can spike your coworker’s drink?” Nolan asked. “Toss some red pepper flakes in?”
“Giving me more ideas, Noles,” Fin called from the bar.
“Are you that bored, Finley Williams?” he shouted. They clearly were. The café was quiet this time of the day, since most folks were heading to restaurants or home for dinner.
The door opened, and Nolan glanced up.
Franco walked in through the door. He had Italian good looks, dark, curly black hair, deep olive skin, and smoldering eyes. There was a reason he and Nolan had dated in the first place. He was adventurous, charming, the whole nine.
And yet, Nolan’s pulse didn’t quicken at the sight of him. Not like it did for the man he sat right beside. His thigh pressed against James’s, and he hadn’t pulled away. The touch scorched him, woke up his synapses, but soothed him in the same breath.
“Hey,” Franco said, offering a wave. “Figured I’d swing by to say hi.”
Nolan swallowed hard, a slight discomfort mixing inside him.
James’s thigh had tightened, but he didn’t know if it was from surprise…
or something else. Pining for James was pointless though—he’d set his boundaries, and Nolan would respect them.
So, that meant he needed to be open to pursuing others.
“Come on over,” Nolan invited, even though he’d liked the cozy space between him and James just fine.
Franco approached with easy, loping strides and a big grin. “Am I interrupting anything?”
“Work stuff,” Nolan explained. The comfortable energy that had existed mere moments ago shifted. James’s shoulders were squared, his expression drawn.
James glanced up. “Hey, man. You’re Nolan’s friend, right?”
Franco extended his hand, and James shook it.
“His ex, actually,” Franco said. “Though, I wouldn’t be sad about shifting the term.”
“I’m his roommate,” James said, the tone polite but formal. While James was more of a serious sort, Nolan had observed him enough in close proximity to know when he was comfortable and not—this was not.
Franco snagged a seat beside Nolan, and he pressed in on his other side.
His thighs touched James and Franco’s, and he was about to explode from the tension.
Franco’s close space had the opposite effect of James’s, which was really complicated, as one was clearly interested in him and the other was pointedly not.
“So, I’m stopping by with a motive,” Franco said. “But I can see you’re working, so I won’t take up too much of your time.”
“Yeah?” Nolan asked, his throat dry. Based on the heat in Franco’s eyes, the direct way he stared at him, Nolan could make a wild guess.
“Want to go out on a date?” Franco said. “I’m planning on being here to stay, and I want to give us the chance we never got after I left.”
The Nolan who’d dated Franco had been a whole different person.
Back then, his OCD was mild, before the incident that ratcheted everything up to eleven. Would the guy even be okay with his meltdowns and his checks? He continued drawing his pattern on the napkin, making sure to keep the lines even. All he was doing right now was pining after the impossible.
Nolan glanced at James. Did he care? The man wasn’t looking up from the computer screen, and he kept typing away, even though his shoulders were locked in tension.
He waited a beat, chewing his lower lip. A secret part of him hoped this was where James would step in. Where he’d tell Franco to back off, that he wanted something with Nolan.
Yet how could Nolan compete with a ghost?
When James continued to plunk away at the screen, Nolan’s chest caved in, and he pasted on a bright smile. “Yeah, let’s give it another try. Name a time and place.”
Franco flashed him a brilliant grin, one Nolan wished he could replicate. Instead, he felt like he could barely breathe. James focused on the computer, but the silence ached between them, instead of the normal comfort.
“Next week work?” Franco asked. “I’ll make plans to wine and dine, sweep you off your feet properly.”
Nolan bobbed his head, not trusting his voice.
He should put himself out there. Franco was interested, and he needed a distraction. James proved he wasn’t available for anything more.
Yet, Nolan’s foolish heart refused to take the memo.