by T A. McKay
But no more….
This time he is determined to harden his heart. If he doesn’t allow himself to trust then nobody can hurt him. This is the easiest way, the only way, to live. And it works…until he meets the man who would test every limit he has.
Dancing has always been one of Roman Knox’s biggest loves, although he never imagined it would be on a pole in front of a club full of men; men who see his body, but not him. He spends his days being overlooked, and that’s the way he likes it. He has no desire to be noticed… until one fateful night.
Now he has the one man he's always fantasized about, the one man he shouldn’t want, watching him as he dances, and first the first time he craves to be seen.
When two worlds collide can secrets be kept? When the truth comes out can you convince the one person who refuses to trust, that you are there for them? Roman just wants to show Trey that he belongs to him, that he can give him everything he needs…
But when tragedy strikes can Trey depend on him for the support he needs? Can he give up the control he’s barely managing to hold on to? Can he keep the past from destroying his future?
All Trey needs in his life is that one person to who he can finally say…
Make Me Trust.
Make Me Trust
Copyright © T.a. McKay, 2016
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Cover art by Kari March designs~ https://www.facebook.com/Karimarchdesigns/?fref=ts
Formatting by: T.a. McKay
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the authors imagination or used factiously and any resemblance to actual people, dead or alive, business, establishments, locales or events is entirely coincidental. Any reference to real events, businesses or organizations is intended only to give the fiction a sense of realism and authenticity.
All right reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means – electronic, mechanical, photographic (photocopying), recording or otherwise – without prior permission in writing from the author.
Pirating an author’s work is a crime and will be treated as such.
Dedication
This book could only be dedicated to one person, and she knows why …
Nicola Haken.
Prologue
I stand and watch as the copier spits out another copy of the contract that one of the partners left on my desk last night. I came in early this morning to get it finished, and it’s all I've done for what feels like hours now, standing here, watching sheet after sheet of paper piling up. Being a paralegal at Colby, Jamieson and Rose is a dream come true. Truthfully, it’s a better job than I ever imagined I could get, so I don’t really mind when I have to stand for hours copying and stapling contracts.
I look out through the glass that makes up the copy rooms wall, to the offices that run the full length of this floor. The offices that run along here are for the partners, they have the nicest and largest in the building. The paralegals’ cubicles are situated in the large open area at the end of this corridor. Normally I spend most of my time on the floor below working with the associates, but when a partner asks you to do some work for them you jump at the chance. Even if it is just copying contracts.
I'm daydreaming, completely not focused on the task in front of me, when I see Mr. Colby walking along the corridor to his office. I watch every step and every sway of his hips as he moves. As hard as I try, I can’t seem to make my eyes leave his body and look at the copier in front of me. He was one of the first things I noticed when I got the job, and he's been a constant source of pleasure ever since.
When I picture my perfect man, he always comes out looking like him. Trey, or Mr. Colby as he’s known in the office by all the paralegals, is the sexiest guy I've ever seen. He’s tall, even taller than my six foot two frame, and he has these broad shoulders that I just want to wrap myself around. I could spend all day looking at his perfectly styled dark hair and his form fitting suits. I know he must have an impressive body under there because the way his shirt tapers at his waist when he removes his jacket. I have imagined what he would like naked too many times, and let's just say that image has been the focus of a few self-loving sessions.
I jump when Trey suddenly turns around and looks directly at me through the glass wall. He's never really noticed me before; I'm just another one of the many people who work here. As much as I would love to help him with his cases, that privilege always goes to Quincy, and I don’t know why. I swear the guy wouldn’t know the difference between an affidavit and a subpoena if his life depended on it. He’s a natural born idiot, but he always seems to get chosen to work with the most impressive lawyer I've ever seen.
I find myself just standing here, staring into Trey’s dark eyes and feeling myself get lost in their depths. He turns away and walks into his office. The copier beeps at me and I look down, distracting myself from the fact that I was just obviously staring at my boss like an idiot. I try to not think about what I just doing as I refill the paper tray, but I can feel my cheeks redden when I realize he caught me looking.
I push my glasses up my nose and turn around so I'm not tempted to watch him through his glass wall. He’s the only partner whose office is made nearly completely of glass. The only time I’ve been in there I noticed that it is only the wall her shares with Mr. Jamieson that isn’t glass.
I heard one of the other paralegals talking one day, saying that Trey wants everyone to feel that he's approachable, that his door is always open. I turn and look at his office, hoping to see him take his jacket off but he's drawn over the blinds.
I grab the sheets of paper that are piling up in front of me, moving to the table in the middle of the room. It’s a large room and it has a shared function, doubling up as our break room when we are on this floor.
I throw the piles into the table, getting myself comfortable for the next task at hand. Now the copying is done I need to staple them together; four sheets to each grouping, with an opening letter on top. I'm hoping that all this extra work will make the partners notice me.
I love my job working for everyone, but ideally I want to work for one of the partners, to help them exclusively with their cases instead of being passed around them all. If I'm honest I want to work for Trey. He’s the partner who gets the most high profile cases, and I don’t think he's lost a case the entire time I've worked here. He’s like a pit-bull in the courtroom, one that I'm glad I've never gone up against. He’s amazing to watch, to see how he manages to get his witnesses to admit things that they never have before, the way he gets the other lawyers panicking when he gains new information and puts them on the spot.
I want to be like him, to have that knowledge and skill to win no matter what. I think there are a lot of people out there that are thankful he uses his superpowers for the good guys, the little people who’ve lost their jobs because of their sexuality. I know the big companies hate him; he costs them a lot of money by winning his cases, and the compensation can easily run into six figures per person.
I’m so distracted by my thoughts of Trey that I don’t even notice when someone walks into the room and over to the coffee machine. It’s only when the noise of the coffee pot being replaced reaches me that I look up and see Trey standing in front of me, leaning back against the work top with his arms crossed over his chest.
“I thought I was the only stupid one that came in this early?” His voice is smooth with a slight husk that sounds like he's not had enough sleep. He doesn’t look tired; he looks fucking breath taking. His eyes are sparkling with humor and I feel myself harden under the table when the smell of his aftershave reaches my nose. I realize that I've just been sitting staring at him and I need to say something quickly or he’s going to think I’m an idiot.
“Um … yeah. Nothing like an early morning full of copying and stapling to get you out of bed.” The first time he talks to me and that’s what I say? I cringe as I think about how stupid it mus
t have sounded. I feel a little like Baby from Dirty Dancing when she carried a watermelon. I swoon a little when he chuckles, a sexy smile coming to his lips.
“Oh, I remember those days.” He looks up to the ceiling before back down to me. “Actually I don’t. I was never lucky enough to do all these jobs, I went to Yale you know.”
If those words had come from anyone else, I would think they were being an egotistical ass, but not Trey. Between the tone of his voice and the little wink he gives me I know he’s being playful, and it makes my heart skip a beat. Why is this guy so perfect? He is smart, sexy, funny, and he’s able to talk to everyone, making even the little people in the firm, like me, feel at ease.
I'm a little shocked when he holds his hand out, making me reach over the stack of paper to shake his. It’s the first time he’s ever paid attention to me, and I can’t believe he's taking time to speak to me. “I'm Trey, do you have a name?”
I can’t believe he's introducing himself to me, like there is anyone in this office who doesn’t know who he is. Even if I didn’t have a crush on him I would know who he was. Everyone knows.
“I’m … well … um … Roman. My name, my name is Roman … Roman Knox. I'm not Roman … you know, like from Rome.” I'm screaming in my head, trying to get myself to shut up. I need to stop talking so much rubbish before he fires me for being so inept at being a human.
Thankfully he just laughs at me, the sound warming my entire body. “Well nice to meet you Roman, the name not the nationality. Maybe you should come and help me one day, I might have some copying for you to do.”
I push my glasses up my nose again, the nervous habit overcoming me as he smiles. I don’t mean to speak, especially not the words that I do, but I can’t seem to control my mouth today. “Well we would need to get Quincy out your ass first.” I feel the blood draining from my face as I realize what I've said. I'm pretty sure I might get fired for this one.
I'm about to apologize, to throw myself at his mercy so I can still work here, but he laughs. Not just a little laugh, a full-blown belly laugh that leaves him gasping for breath.
“I like you, Roman. And yes, if I ever manage to get that idiot out my ass I’m coming for you.” He walks from the room, coffee in hand, and leaves me sitting there with my mouth open.
I can’t believe he didn’t call me out, telling me how unprofessional I’d been. Instead he found me funny and told me I was right about Quincy. I'm a little in shock when I go back to stapling the sheets of paper together.
I wonder if he will ever ask to work with me?
Chapter 1
I sit and stare at the business card in my hand. I found it wrapped inside the hundred-dollar bill that was slipped into the waistband of my shorts during my last dance. I read the name again, not believing that he's really here. All the card says is Mr. Colby but I know it’s Trey. The man I dream about most nights, the vision in my fantasies, and unfortunately, my boss, and he’s here watching me dance.
Working during the day at Colby, Jamieson and Rose, is my dream job. I’ve wanted to work at that law firm since I saw Mr. Rose, one of the partners, speak to my college class. When I got the job as paralegal I thought all my dreams had come true and everything else would fall into place. After a few months, however, I started to feel as though something was missing, that there was something more that I needed to do. That’s when my friend, Grey, as a joke, had mentioned dancing here at Crave. We’d both laughed when he suggested it, but the more I thought about it, the more I thought I might enjoy it. Dancing has always been something I’ve loved, and even though Grey’s idea had seemed crazy and something I wouldn’t do, I knew I had to give it a try.
I fell in love as soon as I stepped on to the podium, the music pounding through my body as I closed my eyes and began to move around the pole. It wasn’t long before word got out about this guy who never stripped, yet was the sexiest dancer in the club, so Jon, the owner, asked me to take a top spot on the weekend billboard and I was more than happy to accept. The other upside is that I make more money in tips from dancing at the weekend than I do in an entire week at the firm, allowing me to save up the fees I’ll need when I eventually apply to law school.
I look back down at the card again, not sure what to do with it. I twist it nervously between my fingers as unrestrained thoughts flood my head. Did he recognize me? Is that why he gave me it? To let me know he’s here? Will I lose my job over this? As the questions rattle around in my head, the panic starts to rise inside me. I look at my reflection in the mirror and convince myself that there’s no way that he knew who I was. We’ve only spoken once at work, and I know I look very different when I dance. I wear contacts here, and the loss of the black frames changes my appearance drastically. Add to that the fact my hair is styled differently, letting it lie messily over my forehead, and I would be surprised if he knew it was me.
I start to relax as I convince myself that he doesn’t know it’s me, but that leads to asking myself again why he gave me the card. It’s no secret that Trey is gay, but does that mean he wants something to happen with me? Does he want me to call him for a hook up? I notice that there’s no mention of him being a lawyer on the card, only his name and cell number are on it. It doesn’t look like a proper business card, and I wonder if he has a pocket full of these so he can hand them out to guys, hoping maybe one will contact him. Is Trey Colby a player? No, I don’t believe that for a second. I’ve never seen or heard about him with anyone. In fact I hear people talking about how he never dates, something about a bad breakup in his past. I try not to listen, hating the whole office gossip thing more than anything, but sometimes it’s just too tempting when he’s the topic of conversation.
I throw the card down onto the table and try to decide what to do. I know I won’t call him. There’s no way I can see him outside of the club or he’ll find out who I am, but just thinking about him makes me hard. I swear spending one night with him would make all my dreams come true, even if he wouldn’t know my real name. In here I go by the name Romeo here at the club. I’d rolled my eyes when Jon first told me my stage name, but I didn’t mind since it was close to my real name and, for a dancer, it isn’t too sleazy. It’s only ever used on the programs and to announce me on the stage, and since I’ve never met any of the paying customers after my set, I have never had to use it personally. A lot of the other guys will do private dances, but I just can’t do that. I refuse to do favors for money. It’s just not me.
Tonight though, I'm thinking about breaking my self-imposed rules and meeting with Trey, if he's still out there. There’s a chance he's left already, maybe expecting me to call him instead. I grab my tips from the table and walk to my locker, putting them inside and locking the padlock again. Things tend to go missing in this place if you don’t put it behind closed doors. Taking a deep breath, I turn towards the door that will take me back out to the front of the club, and possibly back to the guy who haunts my dreams.
I can’t take my eyes off the door that I've seen a few guys come through; it obviously leads backstage and I keep hoping that he will walk out. A few of the dancers have approached me, asking if they can do anything for me, but I've waved them away. There’s only one person I have my sights set on, and he hasn’t come out that door yet. I can feel my foot tap with nerves and I can’t believe that he has me so worked up. I came here to forget about Bryce, about how he’d cheated on me with that guy he used to train. I didn’t come here to hook up with anyone, especially not a freaking dancer, but there was something about him that compelled me to stare. The way his eyes met mine had my body tingling. There was this instant connection between us, like a live spark passed between our skin. Shit, I shouldn’t be feeling like this about someone I don’t even know, someone who was only looking at me to get some more money. That’s the only connection he had with me. That’s why he hasn’t come out that door.
I can’t believe how stupid I'm being waiting on him; there’s no way there could have been a real c
onnection between us within a few seconds. I stand and grab the glass from the table before downing the last of my drink. When I place it back on the table I turn, determined to get out of here before I make a bigger fool of myself. I take one last look at the door and there he is. Standing at the end of the small walkway to the side of the bar, his eyes connecting with mine instantly. It’s like the whole place vanishes as we stare at each other, my breath faltering as he moves closer to me. This thing between us can’t be about money, there’s no way it would feel this electric if it was for tips … would it? When he’s level with me he keeps walking, his eyes never leaving mine and I know he wants me to follow him. I have no control over my feet as they start moving on their own, and I fall in step behind him as he makes his way to the other side of the club. We walk down a dark hallway until we reach a closed door, and he pulls a key from his pocket and unlocks it. Before he has a chance to open the door, I crowd in behind him and let my chest push up against his back. When his heat seeps through my shirt into my own skin I feel a groan work its way out of my throat and my dick hardens against his ass.
His hand stills as I run my nose up his neck, inhaling his scent. “You need to get us inside that room. If you don’t I'm going to take you against this wall.”
It’s his turn to groan and he leans back against me. He’s testing my control, and that’s not something I usually have a problem with. Even with Bryce, I wanted him but I was able to take my time with him, show him what it was like to be fucked by me. With this guy I'm finding it difficult not to just pin him down and take my pleasure. No one has ever elicited this response from me, and I'm not sure how I feel about a man having so much control over me, especially one that’s so much younger than I am. That’s something I noticed when he moved closer in the club: how young he looked. Not the kind of young that will send me to prison, but he’s definitely younger than me, and by quite a bit. The way he's rubbing against me now though, I don’t care how old he is. If he wants to be with me tonight, then who am I to say no to him?
