by Jayne Rylon
“Me either.” Why do I have a feeling there are a lot of things I’ve never experienced before meeting Rogan? What will I do when dawn blasts through my gallery windows, searing away the fog of intimacy surrounding us?
I pretend not to notice when he tucks his fortune into the pocket of his shirt on the floor for safekeeping. I also act like it doesn’t touch me to know this means something to him.
You know, maybe just one do-over might be okay.
Morning sex, for sure. If he hasn’t left yet then it doesn’t count as a repeat. I can’t wait to wake him with pleasure before saying goodbye. For real this time.
Blissfully unaware of my internal debate, Rogan tips onto his side and buries his face against my pecs again. A few inches shorter than me, he fits incredibly well there. He yawns then flings a lazy arm around my waist. Subconsciously, I trap his thigh below mine. Reveling in the heat and nearness of another person as I drift toward unconsciousness, I’m afraid he might disappear if I don’t wind myself around him.
It’s nice. I’ve missed this.
Which is exactly why it’s so dangerous.
I try to stay awake as long as possible. Soak in the sensations. Because in a few hours, I’m going to have to let him go or jeopardize my sanity and soul.
Again.
If anyone is capable of stealing them without even trying, it’s Rogan.
12
Rogan
Mmmm. The first thing I think as I surface from fantastic dreams of lovemaking is that Ronaldo must be hitting the gym harder than usual. His body is a lot firmer than I remember. Smells good, too.
Of course, that’s because it’s actually Kaden I’m plastered up against.
Holy shit. Those were no dreams. Neither are the sweet aches in various parts of my body phantom sensations. Those are evidence that he used me well. I wonder if he’d approve if I slithered beneath the sheets, nuzzled my way between his thighs, and took him into my mouth again.
The delivery guy’s rueful parting remarks keep me from acting on my filthy fantasy. I could tell Kaden wasn’t entirely comfortable with me spending the night. Pressing my luck doesn’t seem wise.
After all, I’ve already gotten a fun meal in bed, a fuckfest for the record books, and a night in his arms. Maximum distraction from the steaming pile of shit my life seemed like yesterday. A glimpse of how great my future could be with a true partner.
Hoping for more would be greedy.
So I blink my eyes open, holding my hand in front of my face to shade it from the flood of light pouring through the massive two-story windows across from Kaden’s loft. He must be used to sleeping through sunrise. I am not.
In fact, I squint at my watch on the bedside table and wince. I need to hustle if I’m going to make it to the hotel to shower, shave, and change before my first meeting. My morning workout and a healthy home-cooked breakfast are already out.
My phone is completely lifeless on the nightstand. I haven’t checked messages in about twelve hours. A record compared to my average of every three seconds. The amount of work piled up probably rivals the tallest skyscraper in the city by now.
What had I been thinking by ignoring the world and sleeping over?
Oh, you know, only that it would have been impossible to leave.
As gently and quietly as possible, I disengage myself from Kaden’s limbs, which are doing a pretty great impersonation of an octopus. Regret stabs me in the guts as I cut our time short. It’s less problematic this way.
An awkward parting might steal some of the shine from last night’s encounter, and I plan to use the memories of our liaison to get me through the turbulent transition period ahead.
I pull on my pants and shirt, without bothering to button them. Then I stuff my socks in my pockets before slipping my shoes on.
My tie is resting in a neat pile on Kaden’s pillow. Rather than risk waking him, I leave it. Maybe it’ll give him something to remember our perfect night by. Or maybe he’ll toss it in the trash. It’s his choice.
Finally, I pick up my keys and wallet. It’s probably creepy, but I stand there and memorize the way he looks, tangled in his sheets. I wish I could hire him again, this time to paint a portrait of himself. Exactly like this.
Which reminds me…
I reluctantly angle away from Kaden’s bed and cross to the kitchenette. Once I’m there, I take the check from my billfold and lay it on top of the camera equipment I deposited on his table last night. I’m not sure if it’s the best or worst twenty grand I’ve ever spent.
Although our meeting had led me to a dark part of my life, I wouldn’t take a different path even if I could. At least I know the truth now. And I found Kaden. I hope something positive comes of our crossed paths for him.
You know, other than the sheer carnal indulgence of last night.
With a final glance over my shoulder, I unchain his door and head outside.
I must be staring at the ground, either watching my step on the rickety iron staircase or because my head is tipping forward beneath the weight of my thoughts. Exhaustion plagues me despite how well I slept.
Otherwise, I would have noticed Ronaldo leaning up against my car before he calls out to me. “I knew you were fucking him.”
Son of a bitch.
I try to ignore his sneer and shove past him to the driver’s side door.
Of course, he’s got other ideas and blocks my path. “There you were, acting so damn innocent. Hurt that I would have a little fun on the side. Meanwhile you’ve been slumming it with this twink.” He laughs. “Oh, that’s perfect.”
“Get out of my way.” I almost don’t recognize my own voice. It’s not the timid tone I’ve used with him before. It’s me. The guy I am with everyone I don’t trust in the world. The ones I don’t let into my life, heart, or bed.
“I don’t think so, pretty boy.” He ramps up his tirade, both in volume and intensity, drawing more attention than I’m comfortable with from the early risers, who pass periodically on the sidewalk at the end of the alley. “Where would I go anyway? I’m fucking homeless. Because of you.”
“Way to take responsibility for your actions, Ronaldo.” I try to stay calm, desperate to keep things quasi-civil until I can handle this properly. Legally. My phone is useless, essentially a paperweight in my pocket after being left unplugged all night. “You know you’re not supposed to be near me, right?”
“I don’t give a shit what some piece of paper says. The cops don’t understand our relationship. You do what I say.”
How could I not have seen this side of him? Sure, he sometimes gets nasty when he drinks too much. The next morning he apologizes and we work it out. At least we had. Now, though…
I can’t get the hell away from him fast enough.
This has gone beyond acceptable.
“Not anymore. Last time, Ronaldo. Move.” I whip my phone out, keeping it facing away from him so he can’t see the black screen, then bluff, “Or I’m calling the police.”
“Don’t be so dramatic.” He rolls his eyes at me then shoves my arm hard enough that it smashes into the car and my cell goes flying. The sickening crunch of glass makes me sure the dead battery is the least of its issues now. “I’ll let you go. Just admit it, Rogan. I won’t be mad. We’re both guilty. We can fix this if you say it. You were fucking him all along, weren’t you?”
“I wasn’t. But I am now.” Who am I kidding? I did once. I don’t think Kaden’s going to be asking me out on a real date any time soon. Ronaldo doesn’t need to know that, though.
“How does that work exactly?” He tips his head to one side.
I really don’t have the patience for this today. Maybe if I’m blunt he’ll get the idea quicker and leave me the hell alone. Besides, his threatening posture is pissing me off. How dare he think he has any hold left over me? I’ll show him that it’s over. Really over.
“His cock, my ass, lots of come. From us both. Unlike when I was stupid enough to sleep with you and you�
��d leave me hanging most times.”
“But he’s not into that, is he? Fucking you?” At least Ronaldo toned down some of the yelling in exchange for what seemed like authentic curiosity. I’ll play along if it means I can escape then unleash my lawyers on his pompous, overbearing, sleazy ass.
Is it so hard to believe someone could get off on fucking me?
My blood pressure skyrockets. I’m not going to let him treat me like dirt. How could I have been so blind? It had happened gradually, subtle insults graduating to relentless putdowns until I didn’t even realize how deeply he disrespects me. One night with Kaden reset my standards.
“Not that it’s any business of yours but there’s no doubt in my mind that he did. If you hated being with me so much, why did you stay?”
“Money?” He thinks I’m an idiot. Of course that’s why he hung around. Sometimes I forget about what I’ve amassed doing what I enjoy. And that some people would prefer to sit on their ass all day rather than make something for themselves or use their advantages to help others.
That’s it. We’re done talking.
I give him the finger then lunge for the door handle. He slams his meaty hand over my wrist and twists. I shout—partly out of rage and partly out of pure agony. Fuck, that hurts.
He grabs my shirt and uses it to slam my shoulders against the roof. I’m sure that will leave a decent bruise. What the fuck?
Sanity check. At least I’m not even the slightest bit turned on by his manhandling like I have been in the past. That alone is a sign that I’m recovering.
I ball my fist, intending to put my boxing lessons to good use, except a lightning bolt shoots up my arm. Oh shit, did he break my wrist?
And still, he’s ranting. Yelling now. Right in my face so that I can smell the stale liquor on his breath. Is he already drunk…or maybe still drunk? Fuck. “No, really. How do two bottoms get each other off? Did you sixty-nine until you drown each other or what? You know, I could top you both. Together. Would he be into that? I could make you both like it.”
I want to spit in his face. Especially when I feel his meager hard-on jabbing me in the hip.
“You’re disgusting. Way off base.” Frantically, I look around. I can’t decide if I’m hoping someone will see us or if I’m afraid someone will witnesses the repercussions of my poor life choices. Doesn’t matter, there’s no one I can ask for help. “Don’t judge people by their appearances, Ronaldo. Or you’ll have no idea what they’re capable of.”
Like me. I’m about to lose my shit. Enough is enough.
My hand is screaming, my back throbbing, and I’m man enough to admit this is rapidly becoming a scary situation.
“Nah, I might have done some things I shouldn’t have with you, Rogan. That doesn’t mean I’m wrong about your playmate. There was no mistaking it when his boyfriend used to parade him around Romeo & Julian. I knew I recognized him from somewhere. It didn’t hit me where until after…you’d left. You’re fucking Cortez’s bitch. Watch out. Now that’s a guy you don’t want to mess around with. He’s not here, is he?”
What?
Could that be true?
Is that why Kaden understood me so well last night? He’s not actually a dedicated top like he’d led me to believe? That’s why he doesn’t sleep with the same guys twice? Because he only likes taking charge once in a while?
That’s not how I operate. There’s no chance at a relationship with Kaden if that’s true. Not that he insinuated there was anyway. I guess it’s my fault that I tend to fall for guys I fuck no matter if they’re good for me or not.
Motherfucker! Why was I hearing this from Ronaldo and not Kaden? Furious at them both—irrationally or not—I thrash in Ronaldo’s hold. “Shut the fuck up! You don’t know Kaden! You don’t know anything!”
Not my most intelligent debate retort ever. I’m sure I’ll hate myself for this moment later. A new low. I have to get away so I can think without testosterone overload warping my brainwaves.
“Get your hands off him.” A low growl from behind Ronaldo startles us both.
My stalker ex obeys Kaden instantly, like an upstart wolf getting barked at by the true head of the pack. Appearances aside, it’s easy to see who’s in charge here.
It isn’t me. And it sure as hell isn’t Ronaldo.
He sidesteps Kaden and me, slinking toward the shrinking shadows in the alley like the gutter rat he is, but he can’t resist taking a parting shot. “Or what? You’ll call that hulk Cortez to teach me a lesson? Sounds like he might have gotten bored of your tight ass and pretty little mouth. I could take care of those for you, you know.”
“I’m plenty capable of taking care of myself. And Rogan.” Kaden steps forward, chest puffed up. Just like at the beach house, I believe he’ll tear into the loser like a pitbull. Compact, yet ferocious. Tenacious. Loyal.
If I was the swooning sort, I might fall a little bit in love with him right now despite Ronaldo’s disclosures. “And I will, if I ever see you near him again. He has a restraining order. Keep your distance. I dialed 911 as soon as I heard you harassing him. You’d best be out of here by the time they show up. Better yet, stick around. I’d love for them to arrest you.”
Faint sirens accompany Kaden’s tirade. Thank god he’s not conning Ronaldo like I had been. I never imagined I’d be involved in a domestic disturbance call to the authorities. A scandal won’t go over well if it gets back to my investors. I didn’t mean to put Kaden or his gallery in the line of any gossips either.
But why didn’t he deny Ronaldo’s accusation?
Could it be true?
Deep down, I know it is. Kaden is a switch. Or maybe he converted from bottom to top. Either way, I’m pretty sure he could never be satisfied with only me. Which is exactly the kind of mess I don’t need in my life right now. Even the delivery guy inadvertently warned me about Kaden’s inability or unwillingness to stay with one man. I’ve already been with someone incapable of faithfulness.
He’s right to stick to one-and-done affairs if he craves variety in his partners. I don’t hold that against him. It’s just that we’re not as compatible as I’d thought.
I try not to let my disappointment show. I guess part of me was longing, against the odds, that last night might have kindled something between us.
“He’s gone.” Kaden swings around to face me. I’d already forgotten Ronaldo existed. He’s a coward who’d never accept the consequences of his actions. “Are you okay? Jesus Christ! Come here.”
I duck his outstretched arms. Right now, they won’t bring me any comfort.
“Shit, sorry. Does your back hurt?”
It does, so I don’t bother to correct his misunderstanding.
“I saw that bastard knocking you around. Did he do that to you before? When you were a couple?” Kaden gnashes his teeth.
“No. Not like that.” Though I’m starting to realize his mistreatment and manipulation had run deeper than I admitted to myself previously.
I’m worn out. I don’t give a shit about dirt or appearances when I crash onto my ass, right there on the muddy ground. I gingerly lift my wrist into my lap with my uninjured hand and lean forward, staring at the rocks an inch in front of my crossed legs.
“Hey, it’s okay. You’re all right now.” Kaden brushes his fingers through my hair.
“Don’t touch me,” I rasp.
He retracts his hand as if burned. “Hang on. Are you mad? About the stuff he told you?”
I grunt.
“Why does that matter? You’re pretty judgy about me kneeling for a guy you don’t even know when you enjoy the same things.” Defensive much?
“Would have rather heard it from you, that’s all. You edited out a few details when you told me about Ronaldo’s cheating. Intentionally or not, you mislead me.” God, could this morning be any more humiliating?
I’m sure if my emotions weren’t running sky high because of Ronaldo’s attack, I’d be able to hash this out like an adult. Right now, I’m in
capable of anything except blurting my raw feelings.
“That wasn’t my intent. The past doesn’t matter.” He clears his throat. “It’s not easy to talk about, okay?”
“So you are a sub, like me?”
“Did it feel like it when I had my dick inside you? Maybe I would have told you the whole story if we’d done more talking and less fucking last night.” He crosses his arms, some of his self-protective instincts kicking in again. We both know that last part’s a lie.
It’s clear now how he understands me so well. He, too, has been burned by someone who was supposed to care for him. Protect him. Cherish him.
Charred, really. Worse than me, I think.
I’d like to be senselessly angry. It’s easier.
I can’t be. I feel bad for him.
“Sit with me until they get here?” I peek up at him, offering an olive branch.
He takes it, plopping down next to me. “Rogan…”
“I didn’t say anything about talking.” I shoot him a side-eyed glare. I’ve hit my limit.
Wisely, he shuts the fuck up. So when he slides his hand onto my knee and squeezes, I don’t stop him. It can’t be more than a minute or two before a police car flies into the alley. Lights flashing, sirens blaring.
The next ten or fifteen minutes are filled with questions. Explanations. Uncomfortable realities. Worst of all, my wrist swells up so much it starts to look like I’m smuggling an orange under my purple skin.
Neither the officer taking my statement nor Kaden will listen to my protests when they recommend I seek medical treatment. Here comes an ambulance, squeezing itself into the alley, which isn’t designed for this much traffic.
I make another mental note to have the area expanded for emergency access in case Kaden ever sets the place on fire with one of the dozens of candles I spied in his apartment.
More people. More questions.
A few extremely painful pokes and prods.
It’s decided. Despite my best efforts, I can’t avoid a trip to the ER.
Kaden curses at the verdict. His murderous expression alarms me. I don’t want that on my conscience.
