by Piper Scott
Sex didn’t make a relationship, and Sterling didn’t want it to. What he would share with Adrian was to be physical only—twenty-five days of fun before they went their separate ways.
And Sterling had every intention of taking full advantage of them.
Adrian tilted his head the slightest bit. The tip of his nose slid along the ridge of Sterling’s, and for a second, Sterling felt Adrian’s soft, sweet exhalation on his lips. Their bodies were close—close enough that if Sterling leaned forward, they’d be kissing.
God, did he want to know how lips that could spit such snark tasted.
Instinct swelled inside him. Whether it was a product of his genetic impulses or a result of a need yearning to be scratched, Sterling didn’t know. All he knew was that if he didn’t try to kiss Adrian now, he’d never let himself live it down.
But when Sterling leaned forward, he was met by air, not skin.
Surprised, Sterling opened his eyes. Adrian had pulled back, and although his hands were braced on Sterling’s thighs, it was clear he wasn’t interested in kissing him.
“Our twenty-five days will start next week on Friday night.” Adrian spoke firmly, taking control of the conversation. “I need time to prepare myself and make sure my family knows I haven’t been kidnapped.”
“You live with your family?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Adrian pushed off from Sterling’s legs. This time he didn’t hit the coffee table. “If there’s nothing else to be done tonight, I’d like to go.”
“You haven’t touched your drink.” Sterling gestured to the untouched gin and tonic on the coffee table.
“It’s not my drink, it’s yours—I don’t own much of anything anymore, now do I?” Adrian arched an eyebrow, then headed around Sterling’s chair on his way toward the door. “I’ll see you next week.”
“Wait.” Sterling rose from his chair, channeling strength into his voice that Adrian had wrenched loose from him moments before. Adrian looked over his shoulder but did not stop walking until Sterling snagged him by the shoulder and turned him back around.
All it took was one touch for the chemistry between them to return—one more glance to send Sterling’s heart racing like it had never raced before. Feet rooted to the spot, tongue heavy, Sterling let his gaze drop from Adrian’s eyes to look at the lush Cupid’s bow of his lips, then the pronounced dip of his collarbone. Adrian had never made it a point to hide his body. The few times Sterling had spoken with him in the past, he’d seen Adrian in all states of undress, but there was a different feeling in the air now—an arresting quality to the way he looked that left Sterling wondering how he’d never noticed Adrian in this way before.
A spark like the one jolting Sterling’s heart into overdrive wasn’t easily overlooked, and even if the attraction was purely physical, it was something Sterling enjoyed.
Twenty-five days wasn’t going to be long enough.
“Yes?” Adrian knitted his brows together and tightened his lips until they were almost puckered.
Sterling had forgotten what he wanted to say, so he said the first thing that came to mind. “When you arrive next Friday, you’ll use the club entrance—the same one you used tonight—not the entrance up the stairwell from the back alley. Before you come in through the soundproof door, I want you nude. Unless I grant you permission, you do not have the right to wear clothes.”
“I figured.” Adrian’s expression didn’t soften with worry or brighten with excitement. He looked at Sterling with the same sour expression as always. “Is that all? Can I go now?”
“Yes.” Sterling dropped his hand. He looked Adrian over one last time, but wasn’t given much of a chance to enjoy his view. Adrian continued on his way to the door, leaving Sterling to tag along behind him, feeling entirely inadequate.
For the last seventeen years, Sterling had never been anything but a Dom. He’d played with innocent, blushing submissives who’d squealed as rope tightened around their wrists and wove around their torsos in intricate, beautiful patterns, and he’d entertained transgressive submissives who were well-versed in all kinds of play, and who’d broadened his sexual horizons in ways Sterling had thought impossible.
But Adrian? Adrian wasn’t a submissive. And while it was obvious he had some work to do before he had enough mastery over himself to be a successful Dom, Sterling didn’t doubt the fact that Adrian would not fold to him so easily.
The total power exchange they’d agreed upon wouldn’t go the way Sterling assumed it typically would—he was certain of it. But the unknown was more thrilling than any carefully orchestrated act could be. He couldn’t remember a time he’d been more excited to play.
If Adrian wanted to go head to head, Sterling wouldn’t spare him. If the storm in his eyes raged hard enough to overturn their power dynamic, Sterling would welcome it.
Sterling saw Adrian to the club landing. When Adrian was on his way down the stairs, Sterling closed and locked the third-floor doors, then returned to his living room to settle back in his armchair and sip at his drink. The gin loosened his muscles and muddied the excitement in his mind to the point where he was able to bring his thoughts back into focus.
Next Friday was still a week away, and tonight, he owed Clarissa some help. No matter how excited he was for his new arrangement, he still had a club to run. Thoughts of Adrian would not steal him away from what needed to be done.
Sterling stood, placed the glasses on the kitchen counter, and exited his penthouse to head for the bar. His fantasies would still be there come closing time.
4
Sterling
“You look happy. Too happy.” Clarissa jabbed Sterling in the ribs. Sterling winced and shot her a dirty look. “What’s going on? You’re not getting off on the whole Marcus-as-an-exhibitionist thing, are you? Because I have feelings about that.”
“No, I’m not.” Sterling chuckled. He lowered the stack of twenties he’d been counting to meet Clarissa’s gaze. One of her brows was arched playfully, but her carefree expression couldn’t mask her true feelings—the corners of Clarissa’s eyes were creased, and her shoulders were held a little too stiffly to be relaxed. Stress.
Sterling knew his sister as well as he knew himself.
“It looks like you need to talk.” Sterling tapped the broad side of the bills in his hand against the counter to neaten them. “Do you want to talk? I’m here to listen. I have time.”
The playfulness in Clarissa’s expression died. She sighed and shook her head, which Sterling knew meant she was going to tell him all about it. “I’m just… I’m stressed out, you know? Lucian was good for the bar. The customers liked him, he was quick to learn whatever I taught him, and he had the mental math skills that so many of the people I hire don’t. Do you know how vital it is to be able to spit out numbers that fast when you have people handing you money from every direction?”
“I do.” Sterling bit back a grin. If Clarissa hadn’t already looked so stressed, he would have cracked a joke at her expense, but it wasn’t the time or the place. “But we’ll find another bartender who’s just as good. Do you want me to conduct the interviews this time? If it’s too much for you, I’m more than happy to step in.”
“No. No, you’re fine.” Clarissa planted her hands against the bar counter, then hoisted herself up onto it. The little dress she wore tonight showed off more leg than Sterling cared to see her expose. “I can conduct interviews. It isn’t exactly draining, and I mean, it is my bar. You put me in charge, and I’m not going to stop being responsible just because I’m bummed.” Clarissa smoothed her dress down her thighs and sighed. “I guess it’s just so heartbreaking for me to go through so many potential candidates, only to have them run for the hills when they discover what kind of services The Shepherd offers. You’d think we were murdering people here or something.”
“And if that negativity gets to be too much for you, then you need to come tell me.” Sterling set the twenties back in their slot in the cash
drawer, then moved to Clarissa’s side. She looked down at him, the dim lights making her eyes look glossy. Sterling hoped to god it wasn’t because she was moved to tears. Seeing Clarissa cry ate at him like nothing else did. “I will always take care of you. Don’t ever forget it.”
Clarissa blinked a few times in rapid succession, then smiled sadly. “You know, this is why people think we’re dating.”
“Let them think what they want. If they can’t understand that real men offer affection and support to the people they love, platonically or otherwise, then that’s their problem.”
“Mm.” Clarissa swung her feet slowly. “You’re a little bit the best, Sterling. You know that? And I’m not just saying that because I’m your little sister.”
“Then let me listen to what’s going on.” Sterling nudged the cash drawer closed with his hip and leaned against the counter by Clarissa. “I know when something’s not right, and I know you have all the reason in the world to be stressed. Let it out. You know it’s safe with me.”
Clarissa stole a conspiratorial look down the bar, as though making sure the place really had been emptied. Then, with a chesty sigh, she let her shoulders slump and launched into her woes. “After Lucian quit last week I’ve been stressed as hell. It was so abrupt and… strange. There was this look in his eyes, like he was sorry, and I don’t think I’ve ever had a bartender look that way while quitting before. It shook me then, and I guess it didn’t really sink in until tonight when… you know.”
There was no way Sterling could forget. Marcus and Lucian’s show in room nine had led him to make his connection with Adrian, and even after finishing his gin and tonic and chasing it with a shot, the thought of him clung to Sterling’s mind like pine sap. “I know.”
“Lucian’s always been really strong. I don’t know a lot about where he comes from, or what kind of things he’s been through, but when he came here, he was determined to take a part of himself back… and I guess he succeeded.” Clarissa sighed again. “But he was a good bartender. A damn good bartender. I thought that maybe he’d be in it for life. Or, you know, at least the next five years or so. He was a good fit here, and it’s just… seeing him with Marcus is strange. I don’t know. I love that he’s happy, and when Marcus carried him out of here tonight he had this look on his face of otherworldly bliss, but I’m still bitter about it. How dare he be happy when I need him so desperately at the bar, right? I sound like an absolute, self-centered nut job.” Clarissa laughed at herself and shook her head. “I just need some time to get over it. We’ll find a new hire and life will move on, but it’s a tough pill to swallow when it leaves me short at the bar.”
While Clarissa spoke, Sterling’s thoughts went off on a tangent. He imagined Lucian in Marcus’ arms, limbs loose and expression distant and dreamy. Subspace was different from person to person, but hearing about Lucian’s release led Sterling to wonder what Adrian was like when he achieved total freedom—when a Dom pushed him to his limits until they broke and left him boundless.
How long would it be until Sterling knew?
“Hey, earth to world’s-best-brother.” Clarissa punched Sterling in the arm hard enough to smart. “What’s going on in that head of yours? You look… weird. You’re not planning on pulling a Marcus, are you? Because if you are, I swear to god, I will kick your ass. I’m not going to allow anyone else to dramatically steal one of my bartenders. I’m getting way too old to deal with drama like that.”
“You’re not even thirty.” Sterling looked at her from beneath his brow.
Clarissa returned the expression. “Like I said, way too old. But really, you aren’t planning it, are you? Because the fact that you didn’t immediately deny it is raising some red flags for me.”
“I’m not planning on pulling a Marcus.” Sterling folded his arms over his chest loosely. “I wouldn’t do that to you, and you know it.”
Clarissa huffed a laugh and waved him off. “Right, right. You’re too busy with those harems you entertain. How many are you up to now? Six? You know, maybe pulling a Marcus would be good for you. I was talking with Lucian not all that long ago about the young men you keep up there in your penthouse, and how I don’t think it’s all that great a thing—for your heart, you know? I know love and sex are different beasts, but if you never feed one, it’s going to come looking for blood.”
“What?” It wasn’t the first time Sterling had heard of his alleged harems, but most of the time Clarissa brought it up as a passing joke. It was the first time she’d approached the topic with some semblance of sincerity.
With a shake of her head, Clarissa hopped down from the counter. She pulled at the skirt of her dress, which had started to ride a little too high. “You give a lot of love, Sterling, but if you don’t take any in return, you’re going to deplete yourself. I don’t want that to happen to you.”
“It won’t happen.”
“For your sake, I hope you’re right.” Clarissa wagged a finger at him. “You know, you’ve always been the one parenting me. I never thought the tables would turn, but this harem thing? I’ve been quiet about it for a long time, but I can’t stay quiet anymore. I don’t want to see you hurt, Sterling. You deserve so much more than what you’re giving yourself.”
“There is no harem,” Sterling promised.
The way Clarissa’s eyes narrowed told him that she didn’t believe that was true.
“I’m serious. I’m not seeing anyone.” Well, except for one individual, but that arrangement was starting next Friday, and it wasn’t really seeing each other. Adrian excited Sterling on a physical level, and stimulated him mentally like no one had before, but beyond that? There wasn’t emotion there. “And even if I was, I wouldn’t do it if I didn’t get something out of it. I’m not self-destructive.”
“If you say so.” The tone was final. Sterling wasn’t going to get anything more out of her than that, and it was probably for the best. The longer Clarissa went on about the alleged harem, the more likely Sterling was to start talking about Adrian—and no matter how excited he was for next Friday, he didn’t want it to come to that. The further away he could keep Clarissa from his sex life, the better. “So, how’s the deposit going? Do you need more help, or am I good to go?”
“You’re eager tonight.” Sterling worked the drawer open again and picked up the stack of twenties he’d been counting. “I’m fine closing the cash if everything else at the bar’s been closed down, but what’s the hurry?”
Clarissa grinned. “I’ve got a hot date planned tonight.”
The hairs on the back of Sterling’s neck stood on end, and he straightened his posture and widened his shoulders out of instinct. Clarissa was an adult, and she had been for quite some time, but he still saw her as the little girl with the wide, teary eyes who’d been too scared to sleep on her own after the accident had changed their lives. The transition between giggling over grilled cheese sandwiches—crusts off—and closing down the bar together had happened in the blink of an eye, and even all these years later, Sterling wasn’t always used to it.
No one would date his sister without his approval.
“God, Sterling, you’re so easy to trigger.” Clarissa snorted. “I’m a dweeb. What do you think I’m going to do when I get home? I’m going to take a hot shower, put on my sweatpants, then curl up with my hot date, Netflix, until I pass out. If there was a man or woman in my life, you’d know about it. I’m pretty sure the whole club would know about it. It’d be like that time that Stephanie met her internet boyfriend after like three years of dating, but about a thousand times more talked about, because it’s me, and I’m a bigger blabbermouth than she is.”
“That’s debatable.”
“Nope. It’s fact.” Clarissa crossed her arms over her chest and scrunched her nose. In that moment, all Sterling saw was the little girl she’d once been—the sister he still saw in her now. “Don’t even try to deny it. If you left Stephanie and me alone in a room and told us to talk it out in a word-fight to
the death, I’d be the one walking through the door at the end.”
“You’re tired.” Sterling chuckled, but his protective nature was hard to silence once it had been woken. “Go home and relax. You’ve earned it. When you get up tomorrow, give me a call and we’ll start going through our backlog of applications in search of a new bartender.”
A blown kiss was his reward. Clarissa ducked under the folding section of the counter and stretched when she stood up on the other side. “Sounds good. Expect a call from me bright and early. Say, two in the afternoon?”
“I’ll try my best, but I can’t promise anything.” Sterling nodded his chin toward the stairs to the ground floor. “Now go on. Who am I to stand between you and Netflix?”
Clarissa’s laughter rang out, and the sound of it lingered in Sterling’s ears even long after she was gone. So, too, did her message.
You give a lot of love, Sterling, but if you don’t take any in return, you’re going to deplete yourself.
For the last twenty-four years, he’d been doing just that. Sterling didn’t intend to break now.
The love he gave was the only love he needed. That would never change.
5
Adrian
Squat, cylindrical bollard lights lined the driveway leading to the Lowe estate, illuminating the landscaping closest to the curb. Adrian followed the right-hand side of the driveway by foot, watching his shadow jump between gaps in the light. On summer nights when the weather was fair and he wasn’t too drunk to function, he took an Uber to the bottom of the driveway, then climbed the closed iron gates and walked the rest of the way. Each light along the way was a landmark—a step closer to saying goodbye to another day.
