Illegal Contact (The Barons)

by Santino Hassell

  Dread marched onto the tail end of my awareness. Even with his scent and warmth and the power in his body turned gentle and possessive as he held me, I couldn’t shake a reoccurring thought: I’d done it again. I’d gotten swept up in emotion, because I was vulnerable to any sort of affection, and had thrown myself at a man. And for the second time that man had been my boss. Not only had I kissed him, we’d fucked, and then had spent over an hour making out before falling asleep.

  The languid quality of my body faded, and Gavin made a low sound in my ear before pulling me closer. As my eyes focused, I sought out his features in the darkness. The straight slope of his nose, those wide lips, long lashes, sharp cheekbones, and that scruff brushing against my own clean-shaven face. Even as regret filled me, I wanted to kiss him. To run my fingers through his hair and drink from his mouth.

  He was such a good kisser. Hungry but gentle, and the way he cupped my face and kneaded my body had been perfect. It was how I’d remained in that postcoital sleepy state of delirium and kept my panic at bay.

  Panic about having done it again.

  I pushed Gavin away and managed to escape his gripping hands, but it took such a struggle that he immediately awakened.

  “Where you going?” he murmured, voice hoarse with sleep.

  “Gotta get up.”

  “Mmm.” Gavin brushed his lips against my jaw. “Come to bed with me.”

  He trailed openmouthed kisses down my throat, and my body immediately reacted. Dick hard, heart pounding, and hands gripping him.

  “I can’t.” I forced myself to sit up. Lying in a naked tangle with him would never result in me leaving his house. It wouldn’t result in anything but another ride. “I have to go home.”

  Gavin said nothing for a moment. He reached behind him and tugged the cord to a lamp. Golden light flooded the room, allowing me to feast on his naked body complete with bite marks and handprints that had come from me.

  “Stay the weekend,” he rumbled.

  “I can’t,” I said, standing.

  “Please?”

  How did he undo me with so little effort? A heavy-lidded stare, those swollen lips parted, and his hands sliding up my sides to pull me towards him. That was all it took for me to stop resisting. I was supposed to be grabbing my clothes and fleeing, not allowing him to line my crotch up with his face.

  “Gavin . . .”

  The rest of my sentence got lost in the ether once he took my dick down his throat.

  “Oh shit.”

  He looked up at me through his unruly hair, light brown eyes wicked, right before he took me all the way in. I clutched the back of his head, hunching forward, and barely made an effort to restore my crumbling resolve.

  Gavin sucked me until my knees were weak, and until saliva and precum smeared his lips. He dragged me down to the couch when I began to hump his face too aggressively, and then fingered my ass while taking me in his mouth once again. I’d had good lovers in the past, but nothing really compared to the combination of a world-class blow job while my prostate was milked. I was reduced to a babbling fool—a constant chant of oh fuck oh fuck fuck me please make me come escalating in volume until I was shouting.

  I came so hard I was nearly blinded by the lights exploding before my eyes, and then lapsed into too much of a stupor to enjoy the sight of Gavin jerking off while straddling me. He came hard, streams of his semen hitting my skin as he released ragged moans. When he collapsed on top of me, crushing my slighter body to the cushion once again, I let him draw me into another messy kiss.

  “You’re so fucking hot,” he whispered between kisses. “I want you in my bed for the next two days.”

  “Can’t,” I said thickly. “Gotta go.”

  “No, you don’t.” Gavin pulled away long enough to catch his breath. He was a wreck—flushed and sweaty with dilated eyes. “I’ll make you come all weekend. Do you hard like I know you want it. Slick you up with that good lube and make you lose your fucking mind.”

  “Fuck, Gavin,” I groaned. “Stop making this more difficult.”

  “Making what more difficult?”

  “Me leaving! And . . .” I nervously licked my lips. “And you know we can’t keep doing this.”

  A dawning expression crossed his face, confusion and irritation and then hurt. That killed me. Seeing the pucker of his brow, the slight widening of his eyes, and all animation draining away until those beautiful features were drawn tight and perfectly blank.

  “Oh.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I shouldn’t have started this. You were just . . . just . . .”

  “I was what?” he asked, voice still pitched low and hooded eyes narrowed to golden slits.

  You were just being so fucking sweet and lovely that I wanted to kiss you. To hold you. To be close to you. I wanted to show you that you’re special to me too. To tell you that I talk about you too. That I think about you even when I’m supposed to be focused on other things.

  And then all I could think about was you screwing my brains out.

  “You’re just so hot.”

  Gavin blinked. “Okay, then.”

  We untangled from each other in awkward silence. Questions bombarded me, and I tried to ignore them. He seemed upset, but could he really be? We’d fucked. That’s what he’d wanted, right? Or had he wanted more?

  Each question bounced around my head as I returned to my own room to clean up and pack. I glanced at my reflection while going to turn on the shower, and had to stop and stare. He’d destroyed me. Fully and completely. My eyes were glassy and still dilated, my hair a mess, and I had marks from where his strong hands had gripped me so tight. Just the thought of all that raw strength made me shudder.

  I wanted to stay. Everything in me told me to stay. Experience what it would be like to get the full, unfiltered, Brawley treatment. Hard and demanding and ruthless as he took me. I wanted it—probably more than I’d ever wanted anything except to pay my damn student loans—but I couldn’t.

  There was a part of me that wanted more than just a wild ride on his beautiful dick, and that part couldn’t be trusted while he was still my boss.

  I showered and dressed, packing quickly, before going back downstairs. He was still where I’d left him on the sofa, except he’d pulled on his clothes again. Everything was off.

  Gavin was slumped on the sofa, gaze fixed on some point out the window, and his face was expressionless. He didn’t blink as I stood in the doorway.

  “Gavin.”

  “What?”

  “I’m leaving now. Do you need anything?”

  “Nope.”

  And that was that.

  We did not exchange any other words before I fled the mansion for the weekend.

  I spent the next two days in agony. A double-edged sword of regret skewered me—one edge wishing I’d never jumped Gavin, and the other edge feeling awful for having made it out like I’d only jumped him for the same reason so many of his fans wanted to—because of his flawless face and ripped body.

  But there was nothing else I could say that wouldn’t result in complications. Or him finding out that I was starting to have feelings that had no place in a business arrangement.

  I called Jasmine to plead for advice, but she was out with Marcus. Left to my own devices, I stayed in bed all weekend and waited for Monday to come.

  ***

  Gavin avoided me all morning. When I tried to find him on the surveillance cameras, I realized he’d disabled them all.

  It did not bode well.

  I spent the next hour updating his social media accounts, retweeting a few nice words from fans and commenting on Sunday night’s game, because I’d become a pro at faking my football knowledge, and then went through his emails. There was nothing incredibly pressing except for one from Mel with more interview offers, none of which Gavin would have interest in.

  After that, I checked his voice mail and was surprised to find a message from Max on Gavin’s business number.

 
; “Hey. Your other phone’s been off all weekend. Just wanted to see if you wanted to meet up. I have a friend who’d be into a threesom—”

  I deleted the message without listening to the rest.

  Which of course led to me immediately feeling guilty. It wasn’t my place to get rid of Max’s threesome invites. It wasn’t my place to do anything but my job responsibilities as they’d been outlined. I was staff. Nothing more. Definitely not jealous of the fitness model.

  At noon, Case called and asked if I wanted to meet for lunch. Since Gavin had managed to avoid me for a solid five hours, I agreed, just so I could get out of the damn house. I texted Gavin that I’d be back in an hour, and still hadn’t received a response by the time Case showed up.

  “What’s wrong with you?”

  I shut the door too hard and clipped my safety belt with jerky motions. “How do you know something’s wrong?”

  Case guided his car off the property and through the gates. “You look tense and exhausted. You’re also not wearing khakis or a dress shirt.”

  “Ha. Fair point.”

  “Yeah. So what’s up?”

  I didn’t want to tell him, but maybe an objective opinion would be good. Especially from someone who resented celebrities and rich folks in general. If anyone was going to be brutally honest with a reality check, it would be Case.

  “I have a crush on my boss.”

  Case’s gaze swung over to me.

  “And at my last job, I slept with my boss.”

  His gaze returned to the road.

  “What the fuck is wrong with me?”

  “Well,” he said dryly. “It’s clearly not a serious interest in me, so my question in that regard is solved.”

  I winced. “Sorry. We’re so chummy I figured we’d just become platonic friends. Was I wrong?”

  “No.” Case smirked. “But the look on your face was pretty good. Easily guilted.”

  Relaxing against the seat, I poked his arm. “Not funny. I already feel shitty.”

  “Just because you have a crush on Brawley? Look at the guy. Who wouldn’t lust after him?”

  I wondered if he’d be taking this more seriously if he knew we’d actually had sex, but there was no way I was going into that much detail. I’d confided in Jasmine about the kiss because I could trust her with my life, but I still barely knew Case.

  “I feel shitty because this is becoming a trend. I don’t just have a crush on him. I have feelings for him.” A sneaked glance at him showed a face that was more thoughtful than judgmental. “Somehow, in the past two months, I’ve started thinking about him even when I’m not here. Wondering what he’s doing, wondering how I can help him, wishing he wasn’t so lonely and dependent on a sport that will ruin his body.”

  “And make him rich,” Case noted. “That’s key info.”

  It was true, but sometimes I wondered how he would enjoy the money. Other than Simeon and Marcus, he didn’t have any close friends. Gavin didn’t speak to anyone on a regular basis except for his agent and his business manager. I wondered what he would do after he retired, when he was a multimillionaire with a worn-out body and a cavernously empty house that he seemed to despise. Who would he share his life with?

  “Man, you really do have it bad.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked. “I’m just thinking.”

  Case shot me a knowing glance. “Listen, there’s nothing to be ashamed of. If you think about it, most Americans spend about thirty-five percent of their lives with their coworkers. Those are the people you brainstorm with about common interests, commiserate with about stresses—half the time your coworkers understand you better than your family does. It’s not a shocker that workplace romances happen, man. Don’t beat yourself up about it.”

  “I know, but . . . it’s not just a coworker. It’s my boss.”

  Case turned into the parking lot of a nearby deli. “Unless the trend you’re worried about is you trying to fuck your way to a raise, I don’t understand the guilty conscience. If it was me? I’d be worried about putting myself in a vulnerable position like that. People have a habit of using feelings against you once they know you have ’em. Trust me, buddy. I know.”

  And of course . . . that was the risk. That’s what had happened to me at SafeZone. After I’d outed the director for sleeping with the very people he’d vowed to help, I’d been looked at as a jealous opportunist who’d been scorned before lashing out.

  But Gavin wasn’t like Jamie Gallagher. He couldn’t be. After all the time we’d spent together in the past couple of months, there was no way Gavin could hide from me. I knew everything from the results of his last physical to the way he liked his coffee, and he was starting to know as much about me. He read me almost as well as Jasmine, and he seemed to genuinely give a damn about me. About my father. About anonymous kids wearing decades-old pads while getting slammed into the field.

  He wasn’t like Jamie. He didn’t use people.

  Case patted my knee. “You ready to eat? My ma thinks food is a cure for just about anything, so I’m gonna follow in her footsteps and stuff you full of Italian bread, cheese, and delicious meats.”

  I forced a laugh. “Okay. Let’s eat.”

  He hadn’t been lying about the food being delicious, but I didn’t really taste any of it. I picked at a chicken parm hero while wondering whether Gavin had holed up in a fucking hidden panic room just to stay away from me, and only half-assedly discussed the novel me and Case had been buddy reading.

  After driving back, he gave me a big hug before letting me out of the car. He sped away just in time to miss the football that went careening at his back window.

  I looked to the other side of the yard to see Gavin standing there sneering at the taillights. He didn’t give me a second look before turning and stalking towards the back of the house.

  “Hey!”

  Gavin didn’t pause. His long legs allowed him to disappear from view even as I jogged across the driveway and followed. He strode faster, walking through the line of trees to approach the deck and pool. I had to outright run in order to catch up, and even then, he only stopped because I grabbed his shoulder.

  “Gavin, what the hell?”

  He swung around, eyes blazing. I expected him to snarl at me, or to shout, but he just exhaled through his nose and, through gritted teeth, spat out, “What?”

  “What is wrong with you?”

  “No clue what you’re talking about.”

  My jaw dropped. “No clue?” I jerked a thumb over my shoulder. “You threw a football at my friend’s car.”

  “So?”

  “So, what the fuck is your problem? You just go around throwing shit at people’s vehicles?”

  “I was practicing,” he said flatly.

  “Well, you better practice more because that throw sucked.”

  Gavin’s eyes narrowed and flicked away, but he bit the inside of his cheek as if trying to hide a smile. He squinted over the deck and towards the beach with his arms crossed over his chest.

  “What do you want, Noah?”

  “I want to know what’s wrong with you.”

  “I can’t leave this property until February, and I have anger problems.”

  I threw up my hands. “Great. Now you’re just going to be a smartass.”

  “I wasn’t going to be anything, but you brought your ass sprinting over here like the driveway was on fire.”

  “Because you avoided me all morning and then tried to break Case’s rear windshield with your goddamn football.”

  Gavin scoffed. “I’m not Simeon. I don’t have those super quarterback powers.”

  “Fine. Whatever. But we need to talk.”

  “There’s nothing to talk about. I know where you stand, and I’ll respect that. But you bringing mechanic boy over here is a low blow.”

  “How is it a low blow?”

  “Oh, come on, Noah. Be real.”

  Gavin turned again, striding towards the pool. He ripped off his shirt a
nd tossed it on the ground before kicking off his sneakers. He had nothing else on but tight shorts and his ankle monitor. I watched for a second before joining him by the diving board.

  “We just had lunch, Gavin. That’s it.”

  “You don’t have to explain yourself to me,” Gavin said, standing in his shorts and glaring down at the water. “It’s none of my business what you do.”

  “Yeah, that’s true, but whatever you’re thinking is completely inaccurate. The only sparks between me and Case ignite when we start talking about food and books. We’re just friends.”

  “Whatever.”

  Gavin jumped into the pool, causing water to splash over the side and wet my sneakers. He stayed beneath the water for several seconds before breaking the surface. It was like a goddamn Sandals commercial with the sun reflecting off his golden hair as he combed his fingers through the wet strands.

  I squatted by the side of the pool so we could glare at each other at a closer proximity.

  “The next four months are going to be awful if this is the way you act,” I said. “Can’t things just go back to normal?”

  “Normal?” he demanded incredulously. “What’s normal to you?”

  “I don’t know!” I waved my hand. “Us talking? Eating together? Not being pissed off and ragey?”

  A shadow crossed Gavin’s face, and his brows puckered. He swept a hand through his hair again. “I’m not pissed at you. I’m really not.”

  “Then why have you avoided me all morning?”

  “Because it’s easier that way,” he growled. “It’s easier if we’re not in each other’s faces all the time. If there are no cameras for me to watch you or for you to use to find me. For the next four months, I’ll text you whatever I need you to do and—”

  “This is bullshit,” I blurted. “Total fucking bullshit.”

  Gavin gripped the edge of the pool. “It’s not bullshit. It’s the way I’d originally planned for this to be, and it’s the way it needs to be.”

  “No, it doesn’t need to be that way. You’re just punishing me because of the way I left on Friday night. And for being friends with Case.”

  “I am not!” Gavin slammed the tile with his hand. “It’s just like you said the other day. I’m your boss. You’re my assistant. We’re not anything else. We don’t need to act like we are. If we didn’t spend so much time together, none of that would have happened. And you know it.”