Falling Under You

by Laurelin Paige

  * * * *

  I kept myself together for the rest of the night and through the long flight to the West Coast, never once crying or losing the calm facade I had mastered. Boyd was helpful at every turn. While I wasn’t sure what capacity I needed him most in, he maintained the role of assistant, carrying my bags, directing my next moves. Underneath the layers of stress and tension, I was grateful for his presence, which both kept me sane and knocked me a bit off balance. He was so good at doing things for me at the office—I was used to that—but doing things for me that didn’t involve work or sex? It was harder to grasp.

  After we landed in San Francisco, the awkwardness was lost in busyness. Boyd and I separated, he taking our luggage to the hotel and checking us in while I went straight to the hospital. Even though he still refused to see me, I stayed in the waiting room nearest Ben’s unit until visiting hours were over, making sure I checked in with each of his providers and the nurses on duty, explaining what I knew about his medical and mental history to Dr. Evans, verifying that the staff had an accurate representation of his past abuse and depression.

  By the end of visiting hours, I was exhausted and hungry and ready to collapse from being awake so long, not to mention the emotional wear of the past day. Boyd, who’d texted me several times, had a cab outside when I left the hospital and dinner waiting for me when I arrived at our hotel room.

  As thoughtful as it all was, though, all I wanted to do was sleep. I passed out on top of the bed covers, without taking more than a bite to eat.

  When I woke up again, it was dark out. The bedside clock read 4:38. The blankets had been pulled over me—I didn’t know how he’d managed that—and Boyd was sleeping in his clothes beside me, as though he’d fallen asleep waiting for me to wake up.

  Carefully, so as not to disturb him, I crawled out of bed and went to the bathroom. I guess I wasn’t careful enough, though, because when I returned, Boyd was awake, ordering breakfast from room service.

  “You need to eat something,” he said by way of explanation when he hung up.

  “Okay.” I was pretty hungry. “Thanks.” I perched on the edge of the bed, not sure what to do or what to say.

  Thankfully, he knew. Handing me the remote for the television, he said, “Here’s this if you want some noise. I can get your computer if you want it. Or we can talk. Or I can listen. I can make you a bath. I can take one with you. Whatever you want, it’s up to you. Pretend I’m not here, or use me how you need me. Okay?”

  “Okay,” I said again. I didn’t want to talk. And I didn’t think I could focus on work. Really, I didn’t know what I wanted.

  I turned on the TV, settling on the first channel that had something that wasn’t an infomercial—some sci-fi show I’d never seen before. We watched in silence.

  When our food arrived, we moved to the table, and I picked at my plate, managing to eat half of my omelet before pushing it away.

  Then, over a cup of too strong coffee, I opened up—as much as I ever had, anyway, telling Boyd about my childhood, about the father who beat us, about my gay brother who’d taken the brunt of his abuse. I was straightforward and somber, my story concise and undetailed.

  Boyd, on the other hand, listened. Listened without judgment, adding commentary only when he needed clarification.

  And even though I didn’t cry or get emotional, it felt good to finally get it all off my chest. Felt good to finally be talking instead of fixing. Felt good to be heard.

  “So your father is getting out of jail this summer?”

  “Yes. Which is fine with me—he doesn’t bother me. But for the sake of my siblings, I wish he would stay locked up forever. You better believe I’m doing everything in my power to make that happen.”

  “I believe it,” he said, leaning back in his chair, his arms folded over his chest. “It sounds like you’ve done a really good job with them. They’re lucky to have you.”

  I nodded in thanks. I was good at that—good at receiving compliments that I didn’t agree with. Truth was, one of the reasons I loved being praised so much was because I always secretly feared that I was a failure. That I hadn’t done enough. That I wasn’t enough.

  It was a pointless thing to argue, so I usually said thanks and feigned acceptance.

  But this time, Boyd wouldn’t let me pretend. He sat forward, his expression intense. “I mean it, Norma. You’ve done a good job.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I haven’t.”

  “You have.”

  I let out a cynical laugh. “I haven’t. I’ve done everything wrong. Ben doesn’t want to live, and Gwen is too scared to let anyone in, and after thousands spent on the best lawyers in the state, my father’s getting out of jail anyway.”

  “But that’s because of flaws in the legal system, not flaws with you. And Ben does want to live. He just needs help figuring out how, and you’re showing him. And Gwen’s still young. She’ll change.”

  “How can you know that?” I didn’t bother mentioning that Boyd was younger than my sister.

  He shrugged. “I can’t. But I can have faith. You let me in.”

  Our eyes met, as I thought about what he’d said. Had I let him in? When had that happened? Was it just starting now or was this simply the first I was realizing it?

  I was still chewing through those thoughts when he asked, “Do you trust me? Do you trust me to give you what you need right now?”

  Yeah, I did trust him. Especially to take care of me. Even more especially, to take care of me with sex. So, I softly said, “Yes,” held out my hand, and let him lead me to the bed.

  He undressed me slowly, intently, paying attention to every detail of the process, kissing each part of my skin as he uncovered it. He caressed me, ran his hands all over my body, then went down on me, giving me the sweetest of orgasms.

  Honestly, it hadn’t been the most earth-shattering of climaxes—I was probably too distracted and emotionally worn out for that—but it was nice to just feel good for a few minutes.

  “Thank you,” I said when he came back up to kiss me, my taste fresh on his lips.

  He chuckled softly. “That was only the preparation. Turn over.”

  I was curious but had learned to bite my tongue. I rolled over, exposing my backside, which he massaged thoroughly. I was a puddle by the time he paused to undress, all my muscles limp and lax.

  When he was naked, he crawled up behind me. “Bend your knees under you.” I followed his directions, raising my ass into the air when he nudged me to do so. He ran his palm over one of my cheeks then slipped his hand down to my cunt where he fucked me with his fingers until I was dripping.

  “Good girl. That’s what I wanted.” He continued to quietly encourage me as he trailed my wetness back toward my other hole.

  Automatically, I tensed. We’d talked about ass play before, and I was for it—just, we hadn’t actually done anything there yet.

  “Relax, baby,” Boyd said, circling my rim with the pad of his finger. “Trust me. Rub your clit while I do this, okay?”

  I dropped my hand between my legs and began rubbing the swollen nub, careful not to make myself come too soon. Then I closed my eyes and pressed my forehead into the pillow. I took a deep breath and slowly let it out.

  As I pushed the air out of my lungs, Boyd pushed his finger inside of me.

  “Oh my god.” Oh my god, it felt so…good. So different than I’d ever expected, a million nerves firing with pleasure as he rubbed me. Jesus, if he kept this up, I was going to come. Just from this.

  It wasn’t long at all before he added a second finger. Then he was pushing in deeper, past the tight ring of muscles, until his fingers were completely buried.

  I moaned.

  “It feels good, doesn’t it?” He stroked in and out of me as he spoke, not really seeming to expect a response, which was good since I was beyond the capability of forming words. “This would be better if it were my cock right now. You’d get what you really need to release, but I haven’t worked y
ou up to that. We’ll have to settle for this instead.”

  Yes, I could settle for this. It felt amazing and new and was really distracting. My head was focused on nothing but this—nothing but him and what he was doing to me.

  When I was near orgasm, Boyd changed the game yet again. He positioned his cock at my pussy then shoved in as he pulled his fingers out of my ass. Once he was seated inside me, he drew out of my pussy, pushing his fingers back into my ass again.

  Fire. I was on fire. Everywhere electricity shot through my body as he continued to work his cock and fingers in and out of me in opposition like a seesaw. It was like nothing I’d felt before. Spots formed before my eyes, my legs began to shake under me, and I didn’t know if I was going to come or cry, but there was something inside me about to let loose. Something big.

  And when it did—when my orgasm began to wash over me with huge tsunami-like waves—Boyd pulled me back onto his lap. With one arm wrapped around my breasts, he left his fingers in my ass and drove into me with his cock. God, I’d thought the seesaw motion was intense, and this was all that and more. I felt so full, so incredibly full. Each of his thrusts sent ripples of release like aftershocks, until I was coming and coming and coming with no stop.

  And then the tears came.

  Not the kind of tears that often burned at my eyes when I climaxed, but torrents. I was sobbing, my body shuddering with the attempt to get it all out.

  Immediately, Boyd pulled out of me, twisting so he could embrace me. I clutched onto him, crying into his chest while he rocked me and cooed in my ear. “That’s it. Let it out. Let it all out.”

  I did just that, let out everything that had been pent up inside for the last twenty-four hours. Hell, for the last twenty-four years. For a lifetime.

  After I’d finished, I let him hold me, and when my head cleared and my cheeks dried, all I could think about was how much I loved his arms. How much I loved his chest. How much I loved the way he held me. How much I loved him in my life.

  Then it occurred to me. “I love you,” I said, pulling back to see his face. “Do you know that?”

  He seemed pleased, though not all that surprised. “I thought maybe you might.” He rubbed his thumb along my cheekbone. “I think you know I love you too.”

  I hadn’t thought about it before, but now that I had, I realized I did know. “You’ve loved me for quite some time, haven’t you?”

  He didn’t answer in words. He didn’t have to. Instead, he kissed me, shifting so that I fell underneath him.

  And this time when he made love to me, I realized that’s what we’d always done—make love. That just because we’d only said the words now, every time we’d been together before—every time Boyd had instructed me and bossed me and taken me—it had always been making love.

  I’d known going into my relationship with Boyd that I could never lose him as an assistant. From day one, I’d decided that if it came down to having to choose between transferring him in order to comply with the office rules or giving up our extracurricular romance, I’d pick keeping him at the job. Because that’s the type of woman I was, the type I’d always been. My career was my priority. Staying on top in my field came first.

  Or it had.

  Now, that decision seemed much harder to make, if not impossible. And I was more than certain I’d eventually have to figure it out.

  Chapter Nine

  Eighteen Months Later

  June

  Boyd and I managed to keep the status quo for another year and a half. At work, I had the power, at home, he had the power, and between the two we practiced a satisfactory balance. We still had designated nights that we spent together, but I had so many of my belongings at his place, and he had so many at mine, that I no longer needed to pack a bag. My building manager was on a first name basis with Boyd. His sister invited me to her bachelorette party. We were a totally committed couple to anyone who knew us well enough.

  While we stayed steady, the relationships with those close to me changed significantly. Ben fell in love with both life and a boy and moved back to New York. Hudson met someone and got married, and Gwen became best friends with his new bride. Often, we’d gather for dinner parties at the Pierces’, and for the first time, there were people that I truly cared about outside of my family. It was a refreshingly happy time.

  But, with happiness, I’d become restless.

  It had been two years since Boyd first made his move, and as much as I enjoyed the dynamics of our love affair, I hated having to keep so much of it secret. My siblings knew, as did Hudson’s wife, but that was all. Particularly, I was frustrated with not being able to invite Boyd to any social gathering where people from work might be present. Such as Hudson. With Gwen’s newfound friendship with the Pierces, there weren’t many events I was invited to that he wasn’t part of.

  Funny how, once upon a time, I would have killed to be such a vital part of Hudson’s private life. Now, I found it a nuisance.

  “You’ve been quiet tonight. What’s up?” Boyd asked one Friday evening in June after one such Pierce party.

  We were in his kitchen cleaning up after dinner, and though I did have something I’d been meaning to talk to him about, I wasn’t quite sure I was ready. More accurately, I wasn’t sure if we were ready for where this particular discussion would lead us.

  Ever sensitive to me, my hesitation signaled alarms for Boyd. “Norma? Is something wrong?”

  “Not wrong, exactly. Just.” I finished rinsing off the dish I was holding and handed it to him to put into the dishwasher. “It’s sort of funny you should bring this up. I had an interesting conversation with Hudson that I was meaning to tell you about.”

  “Oh, really?” That was all he said, and with just that and the cock of his brow, he brought out the authoritative Boyd—the Boyd that had full command over me. The Boyd that I answered immediately when questioned.

  I leaned my hip against the counter and took a breath before plunging in. “Basically, Hudson knows.” That was the easiest way to say it, really. It had been a brief confrontation, but he’d made it clear that he was fully aware of the relationship I had with my subordinate. The very unauthorized relationship.

  “Hudson knows?” Another second and Boyd realized what I was getting at. “Ah, he knows.”

  His forehead furrowed, and I knew he was considering the information carefully before responding with more. Silently, he retrieved a bottle of detergent from the cupboard and poured it into the dishwasher.

  I chewed my lip as I waited, each quiet second making me more and more tense. It was strange how this moment felt like it had been coming for so long and how now that it was here, I was totally unprepared. Why hadn’t we ever talked about what would happen if we were discovered? Why had we never laid out plans for a future? Did Boyd’s silence indicate he hadn’t given much thought to this possibility? That wasn’t like him. He usually had a plan for everything where we were concerned.

  I usually had a plan for everything but where we were concerned. He’d taught me to rely on him. Now I realized how vulnerable that left me. How much trust I’d put in him.

  He didn’t speak until he’d started the dishwasher. “Did he come out and say that directly? Did he confront you about it?”

  “No, he didn’t say it directly, but he made it pretty clear. Good news is that I don’t think he’s going to make a big deal about it.”

  “How do you know that? What did you say?” He’d straightened to his full height, and something in his tone prickled with irritation, which automatically made me feel guarded.

  “There really wasn’t an opportunity to respond,” I said, standing straighter myself—as though I could match his height. “He made this insinuating announcement that as long as perception is in check, that’s all he cares about.”

  “Perception,” he repeated, and it wasn’t a question but more like a confirmation of fact.

  “Right. Which I assume means that as long as no one knows then our relat
ionship isn’t an issue.”

  “Isn’t an issue.” This time his echo had bite to it.

  I crossed my arms over my chest. “You don’t sound happy.”

  “I didn’t realize I should be happy that what we are to each other is being considered as a possible issue by someone who has nothing to do with our relationship.” Boyd wiped his hands off with a dishtowel and tossed it angrily onto the counter before moving to the fridge.

  “When you put it like that…” I watched as he pulled out a beer and popped the top. If I hadn’t known he was frustrated before, I certainly did now—Boyd rarely drank.

  Fuck.

  “Come on,” I said, as he took a swig. “It’s not that bad, is it? So we have to stay in the closet about our relationship, but at least we don't have to worry about the boss finding out.”

  He leaned against the counter, his expression sour.

  “You’re making a face.”

  “I’m not making any face. I’m processing.”

  I threw my hands up in the air. “There’s nothing to process. What’s there to process?”

  He answered with another swallow of beer.

  Sighing, I went to him. “So Hudson knows. As long as no one else knows, we’re cool.” I ran a hand up each of his arms, trying to soothe him.

  Boyd remained stiff under my touch. “And how long do you think we can manage to keep everyone else in the dark? How many times have we almost been caught?” It was true that there’d been some close calls. “Your sister actually did catch us—”

  “That was more than a year ago,” I said, cutting him off, “and we’ve been careful in the office since then.” She’d walked in on us in my office on my birthday. It had been after hours, and Boyd was entertaining my request for a little role reversal while he delivered some spankings. It had been the best birthday present I’d ever received, but perhaps not the most appropriate location to have acted out the fantasy.

  I wrapped my arms around his neck, pressing into him. “We can be even more careful if you’re worried.”