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35. Fischer

35

FISCHER

I understand that my assistant is no prude, but I'm starting to think I might be. I can't stop blushing while we work across the table from each other, occasionally chatting about either something I need or the posts he has planned.

Matthew, operating on almost no sleep, has to make a round trip to the Bronx before his shift this evening, and my thoughts are mostly following him around the apartment. When I hear the knock on my door and he heads over to answer it, I assume he ordered food.

But it's not just food.

"Oh, hey!" I hear a too-familiar voice ring out.

Gavin turns his head to peer down the hall and see what I can see from here. Raven. In my apartment. At eleven a.m. With Matthew shirtless.

Matthew, acting like a true doorman, tells her good morning and steps out of the way. I can feel his glare from here.

Ravenna bops down the hall, coffee and a paper bag in hand, taking in the scene. She's dressed like she just got back from a run except she's not sweating. Her cleavage is stuffed into a black sports bra, and her leggings stop mid-calf. Expensive white sneakers and a ponytail complete the look. "I didn't realize you'd have company."

"You could have texted," I say.

She only grins. "I would have brought more food." She comes around the table, plants a totally unnecessary kiss on my cheek, and sits down beside me. "What are we working on?"

"Raven, my assistant Gavin, Gavin this my neighbor, Ravenna Gallo."

"Oh, of course. Ms. Gallo. Nice to see you," he says politely because he knows everyone even if they don't necessarily know him.

I catch Matthew looking at me. He's not happy.

"I was just coming to check on you since you weren't feeling well last time. You look like you've bounced back. Bagel?"

"Uh…sure."

"I took a chance," she says. "Figured you were a lox man."

If looks could kill, Matthew's gaze would stop my heart where I sit. I force a smile at Raven and take the bagel she's offering me. I admit, I don't know how to handle this. Gavin looks like he's ready to pop some popcorn.

Raven puts her hand on the back of my chair and waits expectantly for me to take a bite, like she made the bagel herself. Matthew clears his throat and walks into the bedroom. Raven watches this with a look of confusion on her face.

"Did he spend the night?" she asks.

"He works today," I say obliquely. "Busy schedule."

"That's sweet of you. I'm not close with my sister at all. She's married. Two kids. Lives in Ohio, much to the annoyance of Mom and Daddy."

She calls him Daddy ? Of course she does.

"I hear Ohio's pretty," Gavin offers.

"It actually is!" Raven says like the fact shocked her. "And their house is gorgeous. It's only missing the white picket fence, but they do have a pond. It's an ideal vacation home. I mean—it's not the Hamptons, but I can see why she loves it. Is it hard to have a kid in the city?" she asks me.

"Um…" All I can think about is Matthew and what the hell he must be thinking. I can't help it if Raven decided to take casual up a notch, but if our positions were reversed, and someone he'd been sleeping with showed up with his favorite breakfast, I'd be breaking things by now. "You'd have to ask Nicole. If you'll excuse me for just a minute. I need to grab something out of the bathroom before he gets in the shower."

She scoots her chair back so I can get up because she was sitting that close. I try not to look like I'm in a hurry, but he'll be out the door before I know what hits me if I don't stop him. As suspected, he's fully dressed, backpack on his shoulder, and shoving his feet into his shoes when I come into the bedroom and close the door.

He glances up at me with furious eyes. "That's casual ?"

"I didn't invite her."

"That's my point," he says, shoes on.

"I can't have you leaving like this," I say.

"I can't stay like this, either."

"Matty." I approach him, putting a hand in the center of his chest. "She's background noise. I don't want anything with her."

"You might want to tell her that." He gestures in the direction of the dining room.

"I will."

He makes a dismissive noise, and I say again, more firmly, "I will ."

"Maybe you shouldn't."

"What?"

"Maybe she's more up your alley. Sometimes the obvious choice is the right one. The kind of future you want with Vaughn happens with someone like that . She's obviously into you, and fuck knows you're into her."

Fear seizes my chest like a fist squeezing it to a pulp. "You can't be serious." We fucking talked about this.

"I don't think you're being serious," he counters. "Can you even imagine how you'd explain to your son when he's twelve or thirteen why his Uncle Matty sleeps in your bed? Really? I fucking want you. You're probably the only thing I've ever wanted. But you said it yourself—you knew a long time ago I am the last thing you need."

I clench my hand in the fabric of his shirt. "You are the only thing I need."

His face crumples, like he's in physical pain. "Please don't do this. Let me go. I get it. I do. I know this was a fucking fantasy—I've always known that. But if you don't let me go now—when you eventually do—I'm gonna fucking break in half. Please understand that. Please know that I can't lose you. If we end it now, I think we can come back from it. As friends."

I'm shaking my head. I'm moving closer to him. Ending it is incomprehensible. It's already too late for me. "I gave myself to you. Don't throw that back in my face."

"Fischer…"

"I can't go back," I tell him. "I meant what I said this morning. It's you and me. That's it."

"It can't work."

"It has to work. We make it work. Unless it's not worth it," I say, realizing I just put my future and my heart on the chopping block.

He bites his lip and something like agony tightens his eyes. His hand grips my neck so fast I gasp. "Am I ? Think about it. Don't just say yes because you know it's what I want to hear. Am I worth it ?"

I don't have to think about it. The truth is imprinted on my soul. "You are everything ."

Something feral and possessive flashes in his dark eyes before he presses his mouth to mine. I part my lips, immediately taking the kiss deep, trying to prove to him that we're not some fluke of proximity and chemistry. That he's no phase or fling to me. He's the only one I trust. The only one I want. We're intertwined in a way I may never understand except to say that life without him would barely qualify as a life. I went without him long enough. It will never happen again—not if I have any say in it.

He pulls away with a frustrated groan.

"Don't go," I tell him.

"I was leaving anyway," he reminds me.

The fact that our relationship has any borders or limits eats at me. I'm restless. Stupidly so. Of course, I can't spend every second of every day glued to his side. It's impossible, and it's probably not healthy, either. However, this fantasy I have, of him and me, alone on a deserted island with only each other to turn to for food, shelter, sex—every basic need—is an option I would choose in a heartbeat if I didn't have Vaughn to consider.

But because I do, I understand why Matthew feels threatened. I also know we need to be careful and not rush into anything we can't come back from. But I'm afraid we might have already crossed the point of no return.

"I love you," he says when he pulls away.

Meeting his eyes, I respond, "I love you, too."

He presses his lips together and forces out an apology. "Sorry I freaked out. I trust you. I'll come back before work, okay?"

Jesus, the fucking relief. I nod, grateful beyond words.

He kisses my cheek and extracts himself from my grip. I follow him out of the bedroom, smoothing my hair and wiping my mouth.

"See you all later," he says, barely stopping to acknowledge Gavin and Ravenna at the table.

"Bye, Matthew!" Gavin calls out.

I tear my eyes away from his retreating form to glance at Raven. She's looking at me quizzically. I shrug. Brothers, am I right?

"He's not very chatty, is he?" she says once he leaves.

"He's shy," I tell her, retaking my seat like it's not a big deal, and she's just a neighbor. My stomach is churning. The idea of coffee or a bagel makes me sick, but I take a small bite and turn back to my laptop, barely comprehending the words on the screen.

"So…your sister's marrying Stuart March, you're a prime time anchor, and he's a doorman. How did that happen?"

I don't get the sense she's trying to be rude, but the question makes me defensive. "He's a sculptor," I tell her. "He's actually quite talented."

"Yeah? You should bring him by the gallery. Let me check out his portfolio."

"That's up to him," I say.

"Does he live—like—far away or something?"

"Why do you ask?"

"Just—you implied he slept over because he worked—I just wondered if he commutes into the city."

"He lives in the Bronx. And he slept over because he just does sometimes." I share a look with Gavin, and I feel like he's on the same page as me.

Ravenna glances at Gavin, then says to me, "It's sweet that you're so close."

"He was there for me during a tough time," I tell her, but I wish I'd shut the fuck up. I could talk about Matthew for hours, and her conversational style feels like a lure and a trap.

"After your injury?"

See?

"My parents are older. He was the one who helped me out."

"Awww…" she says. "I love that. My parents would have just hired a nurse or something. I get that it would have meant they wanted the best care possible. They're not big on TLC."

I do not want to know Raven like this . But I'm also not going to dump her in front of my assistant. Splitting the difference, with my good leg, I nudge his shin under the table.

He jerks slightly and picks up his phone. "Five minutes until that secure Zoom call with the producer—network—person."

"Right," I say and give Raven an apologetic look. "Thanks for breakfast. I need to go put on a different shirt."

"Gotcha. Hey. Speaking of the Hamptons."

Oh, God.

"I know this is your weekend with Vaughn, but I thought it might be fun to get away for a few days. We have an amazing house. Heated pool. Water slide. The beach. Think about it. Could be a nice break, right?"

"Hm. Thanks for the offer. I just have to be careful about Vaughn, you know?"

"Offer stands for just you, too."

"Right." I try not to swallow too hard. Maybe I should have seen this coming? If I hadn't been so obsessed with someone else, maybe I would have. If I'd acknowledged sooner that my need to be close to Matthew extended way beyond wanting to watch TV with him, this never would have happened in the first place. I'm such a fucking disaster.

"Three minutes, boss."

"I gotta go," I remind her.

"Of course."

She stands with me, and before I know what's happening, she's sliding her hands around my waist and leaning in for a kiss.

I dodge her mouth and peck her cheek, patting her arm with my free hand.

She rolls her eyes like it's silly that I don't want to make out with her in front of someone as lowly as an assistant. "Fine, fine. I'll talk to you soon?"

"See you later."

Gavin walks her to the door, and I go into the bathroom to splash cold water on my face.

True to his word and making my fucking day, Matthew comes back a full hour before his shift starts.

Gavin is packing up his things, preparing to leave, and I was going to get a quick workout in before a shower, but none of that matters when he shows up in easy to remove clothing, carrying his work uniform in a garment bag.

"Fancy seeing you again," Gavin tells him, batting his long eyelashes at my brother, who flushes and smiles. My jealousy is sudden and completely irrational. Probably not unlike how he felt when he opened the door to Raven holding my favorite kind of bagel. But I don't have to pretend now.

I clear my throat and glare at my assistant who openly rolls his eyes. While I'm glad he's comfortable around me—not everyone is—I won't tolerate him flirting with the man he knows damn well I was fucking this morning.

But before I can remind him he was leaving, Matthew walks over to him. "Hey, I was wondering if I could get your input on something."

"Oh!" Gavin looks flattered. His delicate features open with interest. His hair is in its usual low bun, but he feigns tucking it behind his ear because he either forgot it was up, or it's one of his moves.

If he thinks that because I frequent a kink club I'm open to sharing, he's sorely mistaken.

"Anything," he gushes.

Matthew's dark, stormy eyes flash to me, and my stomach jerks with lust—sharp and severe. "It can wait, but maybe I can get your number," he says.

"Absolutely." Gavin holds out one fine-boned hand, and Matthew puts his unlocked phone into my assistant's palm. I wait, irritated and impatient as Gavin adds his contact information, complete with a model-quality selfie before handing the phone back over to Matthew. To me, he says, "Don't worry. I'm leaving."

"Good," I say, and I don't even try to sound polite.

Matthew scowls at me.

Gavin finally clears out, and before the door is even closed, Matthew's stalking around to my side of the table and kneeling next to my chair.

"What are you planning?" I ask, wary and still annoyed.

"Seems like you and I are both on edge."

"Just wondering if I needed to give you and Gavin a moment alone…"

"He's not my type. Can you say the same?"

I glare down at him. "You think I wanna fuck my assistant?"

"You think I want to fuck your assistant?"

"Do you?"

"Can we table this? I don't have long. Show me your cock."

"This is how you say hello to someone?" I ask, even as I'm unzipping my fly.

"I woke up from a nap sucking my fingers like I was three years old. I need you in my mouth."

Liquid heat sears my insides. I melt, and he takes control of my loose limbs, spreading my thighs as I sink slightly, my ass sliding to the edge of the seat. By the time I get my dick out, it's rock hard.

Gavin who?

Matthew gives my cock a long, wet lick before taking it in his hand and warming it up with a few tugs. I groan, gripping the edge of the dining table to keep from sliding off the chair.

We stare at each other with desire stripped raw, my stiff, engorged cock looking ridiculous as it leaks wantonly for him.

"I'm happy to see you," I say.

He sucks the precum off my tip, and I hiss, shivering. "I see that. Needy baby," he mocks.

"Fine. I admit it. I'm the needy one."

"Nah, I think I've got you on this one. If it's a competition."

"I don't think we should make a competition out of it," I say as he suckles my tip in a way that makes my toes curl in my shoes.

It's so fucking intense. His tongue plays with my slit relentlessly. I squirm, a whimper that's starting to become too familiar coming out of me. It's the best worst feeling. So uncomfortable I like it. He studies me carefully as he probes the tiny opening with the pointed end of his tongue.

" Unh …fuck…what is that? What are you doing?" I'm both twisting to get away from him, but also angling my hips to try and let him in.

He attempts to smile around my crown, but it comes out looking lewd and wicked. He answers by engulfing my shaft and sucking it hard.

I grab at his shoulder with my other hand, doing my best to take this like a man and not a fifteen year old getting his dick touched for the first time. I try to think of anything else. The stalled Senate confirmation hearings. The ongoing conflict in the Middle East. My list of acknowledgements for my book. But none of those manage to hold my interest. Everything is Matthew's mouth, licking and sucking and swallowing. His fist, twisting and pumping me, not loosely the way I would do it, but firm and rough. The way I've come to like it.

"Gonna come," I warn him, too soon as usual.

He slides off me with a pop. Licking his lips, he holds my gaze and tells me to breathe. I do.

He forces three more breaths from me until my entire lower body is pounding with an unbearable ache. He works his mouth over my length again, moving his lips in a tight ring up and down. It feels insanely good, but I know he wants to suck. His restraint shows in the line forming between his eyes. He's dying to use his tongue, and knowing that kills me, too.

I glide my hand through his hair, not once taking my eyes off his.

"I need to touch you before you go," I say.

His eyes glaze, and it makes me want to kiss him. I'm probably reading too much into it, but for my part, I feel a deeper connection between us than usual. It makes the distance between our faces harder to handle. It used to be enough to be close to him. To feel his body near mine. To hold his hand or sit overly close to him on the couch. But now nothing feels like it could ever be enough.

I genuinely don't know what to do with this surplus of feelings. If they're this overwhelming when he's right here in front of me, then what the fuck am I supposed to do when he's not?

"Matty," I say, urgency quickening my breath.

He reads this as permission to let loose on me, and I throw my head back as he draws me straight to the edge with his tongue and too-talented throat. Holding a fistful of his hair, I blather a litany of desperate words, but mostly his name. My orgasm is quick and obliterating, stunning me silent and stiffening my body like I'm being electrocuted.

Holding me in place with his hands on my upper thighs, he takes everything, coaxing even more cum from my overstimulated cock while I make mindless noises that eventually turn to begging, "Please, please, please…"

He rises to look down at me. Stepping forward, he puts me and my chair between his legs. He shoves down his shorts, and I'm faced with his big, wet erection. He feeds it to me slowly, jerking it as he slides it over my waiting tongue. No sooner than it's seated in my mouth does he spill his load down my throat with a tortured groan.

It's the fastest he's ever come for me, and I hold him by the ass, swallowing him deeper than I ever have, desperate to rub my face against his pubic bone.

This sends him over another edge. "Holy shit… ah … fuck …"

I pull back with a gasp, and there's so much cum and drool still connecting my mouth to his cock, that I feel myself firming up again.

He takes me by the hair and tips my head back. We're both flushed and breathing heavy. My face is a mess, and I want him so profoundly I don't even try to hide it.

"I love you," he says.

"I love you, too."

It's no more or less than what we've always said to each other, and so it's impossible to know if it means anything different to him. It's as though he said the sky is blue, and I said, indeed, it is blue.

Love is a fact of us. It's a—no matter what—I love you. And yet, there's more to it now.

My love for him has its own drawer in my mind. Recently, I've cleared out a new drawer for him where I've put sex. But it would require an armoire built by both of us to contain in love . Jesus, listen to me. Why do I have to make everything so fucking complicated? No wonder I give myself a panic attack a week.

Matthew wipes my mouth with his thumb before tucking himself back into his pants. I break eye contact with him to do the same. I have a fine tingling sensation running through my body as I stand, and he takes me into his arms. I hold tight, but not too tight. As much as my fingers may want to claw themselves into his clothing to make myself impossible to remove, I show some dignity and self-control—to the extent that's possible with the taste of him in my mouth.

"Kiss me until you have to leave," I tell him.

"I plan to, but I'm leaving as many marks as I want."

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