Andi #4
“Of course. I didn’t think I’d need it, but... I’m glad we have it now. I don’t want anyone else catching wind of how delicious you smell, dripping and desperate as you are,” he growls.
“I’m—I’m not!” I protest, my face flushing hot.
His piercing eyes sparkle as his lips tug up in a smirk.
“Oh? And if I reached my hand up that skirt right now, your slick won’t have soaked through your panties?”
“That’s not—that’s just biology!” I pout, rolling the de-scenter on .
“Mhmm. Whatever you need to tell yourself,” he chuckles, opening his car door. I have a few seconds to collect myself as he walks around the front before he opens my own door.
He extends his hand to me, and I take it with a small, sheepish smile. He doesn’t let go. Not as we walk to the elevator. Not as we’re riding up to the floor of his office. Not even when we step into a meeting room full of people dressed in suits.
I’m incredibly grateful for the reassuring support of his physical touch, because I’m instantly overwhelmed by the sheer volume of people here. Why are there almost ten people?
I recognize Charles, but that’s about it.
Everett offers me a reassuring squeeze, sensing my panic as introductions are made. I remember absolutely no one’s names.
This is the first time I’ve had to interact with anyone new since my captivity. Turns out my brain can’t really handle it.
I cling to Everett until he’s pulled away to speak with Charles in the corner. They speak in low, hushed voices, probably about Gina, considering the way they’re glancing at me with concerned expressions.
I’m left with the rest of the team of lawyers, shuffling through paperwork left and right, handing me the relevant pages that need my signature. Do I have any idea what I’m signing? Not at all.
Hopefully Everett trusts these people, because the longer this goes on, the more my mind drifts away from my body. I can’t handle the mix of everyone’s different scents, and the feel of their gazes on me. It’s like a constant stream of pity and surprise coming from all directions.
“Are you done?” One of the lawyers asks me when she sees that I’ve finished signing the stack I’ve been handed.
I offer her a weak nod.
“Hey,” Everett murmurs, instantly appearing at my side.
I jump in my seat, spinning in my office chair to face him.
His gaze is sharp and assessing as he takes in my expression, and he instantly reaches out a hand to me. I take it, my shoulders slumping forward in relief. The physical contact is grounding, exactly what I need to quiet my racing mind.
“We’re leaving,” Everett says immediately, his shoulders straightening.
“But—” One of the junior lawyers’ protests is cut short when Everett casts a sharp glare in his direction.
“Email me. I can handle whatever you need later.”
And with those parting words, he uses that hold on my hand to guide me out of the room.
“I’m sorry, Honey. I should’ve noticed sooner,” he mutters, guiding me through the halls.
“Hmm?”
“You’re dissociating.”
Am I? Probably. I did that a lot back when I was stuck with Gina. Into my mind was the only escape I had at the time.
“Sorry,” I mumble.
“Don’t be sorry.” He pushes open the door to another room and shuts it behind us.
He presses my back against the wood of the door and leans down so his face is all I see.
“I got distracted by my conversation with Charles and thought I’d smell your distress. I completely forgot that you put on de-scenter right before we came up here. That was irresponsible of me.”
“It’s okay,” I mumble, throwing my arms around his shoulders and burying my face in his neck. I breathe in the deep, woodsy, and smoky notes of his scent, trying to anchor myself. “I’m sorry I’m such a mess. I’ve ruined things, haven’t I?”
“Ruined what? You haven’t ruined anything.”
“But one of the lawyers wanted to talk to you.”
“They can talk to me later, after I take care of you,” he murmurs.
“I wish we could go back to how things were in the car,” I rasp. “I hate my own brain. I can’t even handle being in a room with people I’m not familiar with.”
He goes still, making me lean my head back so I can try to gauge his expression better.
“Do you... want a distraction, Honey?” he asks, his voice low and barely restrained.
“Yes,” I say automatically.
He lets out a shaky breath.
“I would be lying if I said that you getting me all worked up in the car wasn’t one of the reasons I didn’t notice you were in distress. I tried to avoid looking at you in there, because I knew if I did, all I’d want to do is bend you over the table—everyone else in the room be damned.”
“Oh—oh,” I say, blinking up at him with understanding.
Something about his words, about the graphic imagery of me bent over that large conference table, draws my mind back into my body. Maybe I was right, and the more turned on I am, the less room there is in my brain for fear.
“It’s not going to be a tender or a sweet distraction, Honey. I need you to know that.”
“That’s—that’s okay,” I breathe out. “I have the others for that. You’re the one I want right now.”