Not Safe for Work(97)

Panic surged through me. “Rick, please. Don’t. If you pull your business from the firm, there’s going to be a hundred people out of jobs.”

He stared at me. “I can’t keep pouring that kind of money into a place that’s essentially blackmailing their own employees.”

And how could I tell him to do exactly that? But if he didn’t… If he pulled his account… If Mitchell & Forsythe lost that kind of money…

“Tell me what you want to do.” He touched my face. “I’ll follow your lead.”

I squeezed my eyes shut. “No pressure, right?”

“Well, we have the weekend to figure it out.”

“Do you think that’s enough?” I met his gaze again. “Because I’ve been trying to unravel this all week and…”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He caressed my cheek. “You’ve been letting this eat you alive, on your own?”

“What could I do? I didn’t want to put this on you, because I knew it would…” All the air left my lungs. “I knew it would make things weird.’

Rick avoided my eyes. “What does this mean for us, then? Because it’s obviously affecting us.”

“I…” Panic and God knew what other emotions tangled behind my ribs. “I have no idea.”

“Neither do I.” But then he came toward me and slid his hands over my hips. “We don’t have to decide anything tonight. We have time to think things over. No one has to know we’ve had this conversation.”

But you know. And I know.

He touched my face. “I’m not going to give them the satisfaction of f*cking this up.”

“Neither am I.” I wrapped my arms around him. “To be honest, the only thing I’m sure of right now is what I want.”

He swallowed. “Which is?”

“You.”

We locked eyes. He held his breath. I held mine.

And finally, I grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him to me, and his kiss shook all the apprehension out of my body. The bullshit still existed, but for tonight, it was banished. He needed me, I needed him, and nothing else mattered.

Without a word—hell, without breaking the kiss more than we had to—we started pulling off clothes. Step by step, we inched toward his bed. Piece by piece, we stripped away the layers between us.

Wrapped up in each other and not a single stitch of clothing, we sank into bed together. My God. This I could handle. Just two naked bodies, two turned-on men, and some lube and condoms within reach.

We wound up one our sides, kissing and stroking each other. Apparently I could still get it up.

Why wouldn’t I? I was with Rick. In bed. Naked. Turned on. Of course I could—

Right. That.

I forced those thoughts out of my head and f*cked harder into Rick’s hand. “I want to f*ck you.”

“Please do,” he breathed. “Please…”

The soft plea gave me goose bumps.

“Get on—” I hesitated. “On your back.”

Rick eyed me, but then he did what he was told, and I was genuinely surprised he’d obeyed. It was like I couldn’t even hear the authority in my own voice anymore. I wasn’t a Dom tonight. I was a submissive taking orders from an invisible Dom and carrying them out on another submissive.

But this wasn’t about being a Dom or a sub. Not tonight. After all, I didn’t have to be a Dom all the time—I’d had a spectacular sex life with Karen, and she wasn’t into kink at all—so I should’ve been able to function now, but I couldn’t. Having the Dom rug yanked out from under my feet had thrown me completely off on every level. Every touch meant something. Or it should’ve been something that it wasn’t.

I told myself I didn’t care who was on top, but every option had subtext and meanings and implications that threatened to kill the mood. I could be on top, but then who was I kidding?

Especially since, no matter which way we spun it, I wasn’t in control in here. Neither was Rick. Mitchell was in control. The f*cking firm was in control.

Rick broke the kiss, and the instant he met my eyes, I knew it was over. I couldn’t read his gaze to save my life, couldn’t tell if I was seeing pity or annoyance or straight-up confusion, but it wasn’t a look I wanted to see in a lover’s eyes when I was already second-guessing my every move. When I was questioning my own motivation for being this close to him.

I lifted myself off him. Blowing out a breath, I shook my head and sat up. “I can’t… I can’t do this.”

He pushed himself up onto his elbow. “What?”

“I’m sorry.” I rubbed both hands over my face and then dropped them into my lap. “I can’t.”

He touched my arm, and it took all I had not to recoil from him. “Is this about—”

“You know what it’s about.”

Our eyes met. He grimaced and lowered his gaze.

“I’m so sorry.” I raked my fingers through my hair. “I just…can’t shake…”

“I know. You’ve been a million miles away all night.”

I winced. “I’m sorry.” Why did every apology sound even more useless than the last? “I have no idea what to do about this.”