Rewind Boxed Set

by Rowan Shaw

  Getting crankier by the minute, I took a sip of my wine and fired a nasty glare at the guy next to us when he lit up another cigarette.

  "Excuse me," I called out to him.

  He turned to me and blew his fucking smoke in my face.

  "Could you not smoke while we're trying to have lunch?" I didn't care that our meals hadn't arrived yet. I couldn't stand the smell of cigarettes.

  "You can go inside if you don't like it," he retorted.

  My nostrils twitched, but there was nothing I could do. It was perfectly legal to smoke outside. I returned my attention to Enzo, who had drunk his entire glass of whiskey while I was trying to get Douchebag next to us to turn off his damn cancer stick.

  "You're gonna drink like this all afternoon?"

  He didn't respond but signed sadly, "When we go out, I'm always the third wheel watching while you make out with some guy before dragging him to the bathroom."

  "I can behave. And you won't be alone. Jean-François and Enrique are coming."

  "Jean-François will be dancing, then he'll have to deal with his horde of horny fans, and Enrique has friends of his own."

  "You could watch the strippers," I suggested. "Philippe has the hots for you. I've been telling you for a while now."

  "No, thanks."

  He beckoned to the waiter and pointed at his glass for another shot. At this rate, he'd be drunk within fifteen minutes.

  I flicked my hand at him. "Fine. You know what? Just stay home, sulk, and get drunk."

  As if my mood wasn't bad enough, Enzo dropped another bomb on me. "Cyrille messaged me. He wants to meet."

  "Like fuck he does!" I shouted, knowing Enzo could read my lips well enough. I reverted to signing when a couple glowered at us from a table across the terrace. "Fuck him!" I glared when Enzo averted his eyes before he looked at me again. "Please tell me you're not considering this."

  "I'm seeing him tomorrow."

  What the fuck?!

  I was going to kill somebody. That douchebag had never seen me truly pissed, but I'd be tearing him and Florian brand new assholes.

  "Enzo, I swear to God almighty, if you date that jackass again, I'm going to hurt someone. And this time, I mean it," I signed furiously.

  "You don't believe in God," he said out loud.

  "That's not the point."

  "I'm not going back to Cyrille," he assured me, though he didn't seem so sure.

  What the fuck had I done in my life to deserve this shit? Watching my best friend act like a damn carpet for a bunch of fucking assholes.

  I clenched my jaw, my fists already balling at the thought of beating the shit out of Cyrille.

  "You are way too good for your own well-being, Enzo. There has to be a cure for people like you somewhere because I swear that's not healthy."

  "You'd rather I be a bad person?" he signed.

  "There's being nice, and then there's being a fucking doormat for fucking douchebags to piss all over."

  His face closed off just as the waiter arrived with our plates. As soon as his glass of whiskey touched the table, he grabbed it and downed half his second round. The waiter sent him a side glance but didn't say anything.

  "You don't need to get fucking drunk, either," I signed, my anger rising higher.

  "You're not my mom."

  "No, I'm not. But you sure owe her an apology, too. Have you even talked to her since your fight concerning Florian?"

  He finished his drink, pulled out his wallet, and stood while looking for some cash that he threw on the table. "You know what? I don't need this."

  "Right. It's all my fault now."

  He glared daggers into me and left. I couldn't even call him back; he couldn't hear me. I left more cash on the table than my drink and meal were worth and caught up with him.

  "You're going home?" I signed, reaching his side.

  "Don't follow me," he snapped out loud.

  I grabbed both his shoulders and forced him to turn around so he could read my lips. "If you go back to Cyrille, and he cheats on you one more time, I will kill him. Do you understand? I am not joking. I will fucking kill the motherfucker."

  "I'm not going to date him again," he insisted. "I'm not that stupid."

  "I didn't say you were stupid." I pulled back and signed more calmly, "Just too kind to know what's good for you."

  He gave a nod, a shy smile popping up on his face, clashing with his previous scowl. "Thank you."

  "For what?"

  "For having my back and being there for me."

  No matter what, I could never stop sticking up for him, even when he drove me absolutely mad. "Anything for you, mon poussin."

  He looked back toward the brasserie where the waiter was picking up our plates, shaking his head.

  "You owe me lunch," I said. "And next time you throw a tantrum like a damn child, I'm having you refund my meal too."

  I had to go back to work soon, but tomorrow I would track down Florian and fix this fucking mess myself.

  As if I didn't have enough shit going on already.

  Chapter 11

  PATRICK

  After meeting Brandon for the third time in one week, I knew our hook-ups were turning into some bad habit slowly costing me my sleep. I fucked him deep into the night every single time, and it was never enough. Each time, he would come to my place, force himself to make some useless small talk while devouring me whole with his beautiful dark eyes until I couldn't take the hunger anymore and took him right there on the spot. I was drained and exhausted, but being inside him felt too damn good to even consider stopping.

  Jean-François had called a few times asking what was going on and why I was never available anymore. I had to lie and tell him I was under the weather lest he pry into my life. I didn't want him or Enzo to think it was serious. This thing between Brandon and me was just fucking. Granted, it was first-class fucking, but it was still just fucking.

  I smiled to myself as I entered my office that morning and turned on my computer to check my agenda for the day. When my eyes caught on the screen, I froze and let out a loud curse. What the hell?!

  I scrolled through the list, then went back to the name to make sure I wasn't hallucinating. It had to be a mistake. I grabbed my phone and dialed my secretary. I could have walked out the door to talk to her, but I didn't want her to see me getting upset.

  "Chantal," I said as soon as she picked up, "what is this appointment for Monsieur Smith that I see for two P.M.?"

  "He made that appointment when he left last time."

  My teeth clenched. Fuck. What did he not understand about me not being allowed to see him as a patient if we were fucking on the side?

  I couldn't smooth the edge from my voice even if I tried. "I see. Thank you."

  "Is anything wrong?"

  "No, it's fine. But it would be better for Monsieur Smith if he saw Docteur Bernard instead. Next time he wants to make an appointment with me, please, tell him you can't do so without my approval. Didn't you transfer his file to Docteur Bernard's office already?"

  "I did."

  "Good. Next time, don't let him make an appointment without consulting me first." I held the bridge of my nose. I was fucked—royally fucked.

  "Is everything okay?" Chantal asked again.

  "Yes. Thank you. It's just Docteur Bernard is better suited to treat his case."

  I rubbed my forehead as I hung up the phone and breathed deeply, peeved that Brandon was putting me in this tricky position. How hard was it to understand I couldn't help him psychologically while nailing his brains out on the side too? That was a recipe for disaster, and it wasn't how therapy worked at all.

  I rubbed my mouth, flicking my black pen between two fingers as I tried to think of a solution to make him realize that he was jeopardizing my entire practice.

  The rest of the day felt like a damn eternity before his turn finally came. When it was time, I stood and went to get him from the waiting room myself. His smile faded when he saw the irritati
on on my face. I wasn't going to pretend and be friendly. This was too fucking serious, and I didn't like it when people played little games that could cost me my career.

  "Please sit down," I said after closing the door to my office. I gestured at the couch vaguely without looking at him and took the armchair. When silence set in, I looked him straight in the eyes. "I thought we'd made it clear you were to go see Docteur Bernard."

  Brandon beheld me, his face closing off under the harshness of my tone. "You're the shrink I chose."

  "I'd rather you referred to me as a therapist, thank you."

  Brandon pursed his lips.

  "What is this about?" I asked. "Is this some kind of game to you? Did someone send you here to trick me or something?"

  I wouldn't put it past some people to try and mess with me. Some guys still held a grudge against me after I'd fucked them and never returned their calls. It didn't take that long to figure out my last name after looking up my home address and then trace me back to my job if someone wanted to take me down. But this would be seriously low. It wasn't like I'd given them some STI, for fuck's sake.

  The look of puzzlement on Brandon's face told me he wasn't in on this with anyone else, though. Apparently, he simply could not understand what the problem was. Unbelievable.

  "Why are you here?" I asked again, trying and failing to calm down.

  "Because I need therapy."

  "We've already had this discussion. Why didn't you go to Docteur Bernard?"

  Brandon inhaled deeply. "Do you have any idea how hard it was for me to find a therapist who's open to queer issues?"

  "She is more than competent in that area. She can help you with any problem you may be facing because of your orientation. I, however, became useless to you the night I fucked you so hard you shouted my name."

  Brandon shook his head, his dark eyes thundering while his nostrils flared.

  "My secretary will make an appointment for you."

  "I can take care of myself, thanks," he snapped, rising from the couch.

  When he stood, I noticed he was wearing the same light blue button-down shirt and black slacks he did that first time he'd come to my office. I fucking loved the geek look on him. I'd been too pissed to realize how striking he was today, and when I did, it was too late to turn back. I still wanted him no matter how his naïveté pissed me off.

  I closed my eyes, trying not to think of him that way, and stood to my feet. But when he made a move to leave, I grabbed his wrist to hold him back. "You promise you won't come back?"

  "I don't see that I have a choice," he hissed.

  "Will I see you at the club?"

  For Christ's sake, why couldn't I get him out of my system already? I could still feel the warmth of his skin against mine.

  "I don't know." In spite of his resentment, he glanced at me. He couldn't hide the heat in his eyes even if he tried. He'd had that exact same look every time we'd met for sex. Right before I fucked him in every possible way.

  I watched as his bitterness turned to pure hunger. Before I could move, he grabbed my neck and pulled me into a kiss, falling into my body. I backed him against my desk. When our moves met resistance, I grasped his chin between my thumb and index finger to look him deep in his eyes. His ardent gaze engulfed me with flames that consumed me whole. I lost all control. Everything around me blurred into a haze of lust the moment Brandon went for my belt.

  We nearly ripped each other's clothes off before I shoved him face-first against my desk and did him so hard, I had to cover his mouth to prevent him from shouting. When my orgasm hit, my mind fogged over. I made him come at the same time, falling along with him, wishing I could make the sensation last forever. We rode the same wave, his entire body shaking in my arms.

  But reality hit me almost too fast. What the fuck was I doing railing a patient in my office? I pulled out of him quickly, making him wince, and tugged off the condom to conceal it in a tissue that I tossed in my trashcan. Fuck.

  This was a first, even for me. I'd never fucked anyone in my office, and least of all a client. Anger and disappointment replaced the lust in my veins while Brandon got dressed in a rush and raised his chin, beholding me in a strange way.

  "You got what you wanted. Can I leave now?"

  His reaction pissed me off even more. He was the one who'd come to my office after I'd specifically told him not to. And even though he knew we couldn't keep our hands off each other, he'd gone against my will and made this damn appointment. And now he was going to give me an attitude, after kissing me first no less.

  "You may want to make yourself presentable for your next client," he added in a snap that made my jaw tick. "And clean your desk too."

  He finished getting dressed in a flash and slammed the door on his way out.

  My nostrils flared as I banged my fist on my desk, my irritation turning into full-blown anger. I wasn't used to being dismissed after fucking a guy. I didn't like the taste of his rejection one bit. And I sure as fuck didn't like how I'd lost control and put myself in a position that could make me lose everything I'd ever worked for.

  I yanked my shirt from the floor, scrunching my nose when I realized Brandon had wrinkled the fabric in his strong grip. A button was missing. I scanned the area, unable to find it. My eyes landed on the traces of his ejaculation that had sprayed all over the wood of my desk, reaching his file, making the ink of his name bleed.

  "Fuck!" I grabbed my hair. How could I be so damn stupid? "Fuck, fuck, fuck!"

  Chapter 12

  PATRICK

  "You look like you haven't slept in days," Enzo signed when I met him at his apartment over a week later.

  I hadn't seen Brandon since we'd fucked in my office. To my relief, he hadn't come back to my workplace. To my annoyance, he'd also failed to return to the club. He sure did invade my every dream, though. Those were always the same: Brandon came to the club, and I did him right there in front of everyone. I was like some damn teenage boy, waking up at night after ejaculating in my briefs.

  He was avoiding me, and that was driving me nuts. I'd considered tracking him down. I had all his personal information at my office. But that would be crossing the line.

  I had to forget about him. Plain and simple.

  When Enzo wouldn't stop staring at me, I gave him a fake smile, but he frowned so hard, I caved in. "I put myself in a situation, and I don't know how to get out of it."

  It wasn't the first time my dick had gotten me in trouble, but this was by far the worst trouble it had gotten me into.

  "What situation?" Enzo signed, sitting across from me with his coffee table between us.

  "Can't give you the details." I flicked my hand. When he still wouldn't stop gaping, I let part of the truth out. "Let's just say I fucked the wrong guy, and now I'm screwed."

  "What do you mean?" Enzo narrowed his eyes until a light came on in his head. "Nooooo!"

  "What?"

  "You had sex with a client?" he shouted, looking horrified.

  I didn't respond. Fucking Brandon was only half my issues. Desiring him still was the main problem.

  "Isn't that against the rules?"

  I scratched the back of my head, shrugging one shoulder. "It's complicated. I don't wanna talk about it."

  Maybe if I did Brandon again, just one last time, I could get him out of my system once and for all. But that would require running into him again, and he seemed bent upon avoiding me.

  Disgruntled, I changed the subject to Enzo's upcoming trip to Paris and hoped he'd let my transgression go. "Why didn't you tell me you were going? I would have come with you. I need out of this dump."

  "Florian invited me," he replied and raised his chin. "I know you went to see him behind my back. That would be good enough reason for me to kick you out, but you did me a favor, so I'm willing to let it slide."

  I let out a tiny laugh. In spite of this utter mess in my life, I'd made time to talk some sense into Florian. Thankfully, he'd listened to my advice and apo
logized to Enzo without me needing to beat his ass to do it.

  I gave a sly smile. "I sure hope he gave you good head after being such a jackass." I had to admit that seeing Enzo so radiant made me feel much better.

  He rolled his eyes at me, but his skin flushed in an instant.

  "I can tell you got laid last night, mon lapin. You have that glow about you."

  "Stop being so corny." He tried to hide a grin and failed.

  "So why are you guys going to Paris? Is fucking in Paris better than fucking in Nancy? Is it some kind of honeymoon? You two tied the knot behind my back?"

  He shook his head. "I can always count on you to bring up sex in every conversation."

  I brought my leg over my knee and twirled my hand. "Life is all about sex, mon poussin. You should know that by now. And discussing sex is part of my job, too."

  "Well, you're not at work, and I'm not your client."

  I couldn't conceal my smirk. "So why Paris? Is he gonna propose?"

  They would be the first queer couple I knew to actually get married. None of our friends had tied the knot yet, and I liked it that way. Enzo, though, was so bent upon living like straight people, I had no doubt they'd seal the deal eventually. The two of them were so gushy together, it nearly made me puke.

  "Gay men have to go to Paris to propose now?" he laughed.

  I looked at him pointedly. Enzo rarely traveled, so the occasion had to be special.

  "Fine. Raphaël invited him to visit."

  I paused and stared. "Raphaël as in threesome Raphaël? That Raphaël?"

  Enzo had told me everything about Florian's past affair with his best friend and how they'd fucked some other guy in a torrid threesome.

  "Well, that should be an interesting trip," I added sarcastically.

  Insecurity flickered through his eyes, gone in a flash. "There's nothing going on between him and Florian anymore."

  "I didn't say there was, mon poussin."

  "How about you tell me what happened with your client since you're so keen on judging me?"

  I cleared my throat, shifting in my seat. "I fucked him one night. I didn't know he was seeking counseling until he walked into my office."