Chapter 21

21

DES

T he thing that distracts me for the entire day lands in a text box at 9 a.m. It says simply:

I can stay over tonight.

I send a few starry-eyed emojis back, but inside I'm exploding. A whole night . The sofa sex was hot enough, how am I going to survive having him in my bed? My skin tightens and a buzz runs through my body like I grabbed an electric wire. Shit.

Pacing around the office for a bit, I peer over everyone's shoulders and start asking questions, but all that does is find a load of issues with the Samsung project I wasn't aware of. Whereas normally I'd leave everyone to sort their own problems out, we're still struggling to hit this deadline, so I dive into a few to distract myself. Then I catch Cath gaping at me, and eventually James takes my arm and tells me to go out, soak up some May sunshine, and get him a coffee.

When I arrive back, I hand him the cup and he eyes me quizzically over his monitor. "What's up with you today?"

"A guy I like is coming over for a sleepover tonight." I blow out a long breath. "I really like him."

James laughs and shakes his head. "Isn't this something you do every night of the week? Why the angst? Which one's this?"

"Ankle guy."

His eyes go wide. "Wow! Long-term, then? That picture was ages ago. I thought he was a no-goer? Wanted to take things slow?"

"Yeah, he did. So we've been doing that, and I've been enjoying it."

He gives me a knowing grin. "Jane and I didn't do the business until we'd been dating for a year."

I bug my eyes out at him. "Seriously?"

"Yeah, we were sixteen, though."

"Oh yes," I laugh.

"Still, I get it. It was a sweet time for both of us, learning together, despite all the teenage angst. It's given us a closeness that I don't think I'll ever find with anyone else." He clears his throat and gazes across the office.

What a lovely thing they have. And I remember vividly my first time, too. There was something tender and nice about how careful the guy was with me. I hope Alex feels that way about me. Sourness invades my gut at the thought of him looking back at our relationship, of him moving on .

"I'd love to recapture some of that early innocence," James adds.

Oh, yes. The look on Alex's face when he first touched me, the way he marveled at my foreskin. I'll never forget it. And he's discovering this stuff with me . God, I want to teach him everything, want to be there for every goddamn new thing he discovers. I throw my pen up into the air and catch it.

"Must be lovely that you and Jane understand each other so well now," I say.

But James just nods at this as his expression flattens. Is something going on there? I'm just about to ask him when he beats me to it.

"What time is he coming over?"

"7 p.m. We're going to have dinner and watch a thriller."

Fuck. How am I going to spend several hours in his company without throwing him to the floor?

James peers at his watch, and I study the bottom right of my screen: 3:30 p.m.

"I think you need to do something to blow off steam."

"Yes, but what?"

"How about a fight with Rodrigo?"

I lean toward him. "You can't say that! And he's been better lately, though I don't trust it. Shifting the teams around has helped." I bump my fist with him.

He glances over at where Rodrigo is gesturing at a couple of the younger members of staff. "Yeah, maybe he knew we were thinking of firing him, but I can't say I trust it either. Are we still behind on the security update?"

"Yes, but at least things are moving forward now. I am going to have to talk to the client, though, and soon."

James makes a face, then he taps his screen. "Can I help?"

"Yeah, there's an issue with some of the older Samsung code you could take a look at."

Along with operations, James does all our deep-dive sorting. The pair of us understand this software so well now. I walk round to his desk and show him the bits I've been struggling with for days and all the errors it's throwing up. Before I know it, we're both submerged in a tricky coding problem.

When the buzzer goes, I glance around the apartment one last time. Clean floors, dim lighting, chicken, peppers and onion chopped, champagne chilling, and no Marla. I fling open the door, and Alex grins at me, a gray suit showing off his broad shoulders and slim hips. Reaching out, I grab the front of his shirt and pull him into me, putting my mouth on his and touching his lips with my tongue, and he opens immediately, tongue tangling with mine. When he groans into my mouth, I realize he's hard where he's leaning into my hip, so I spin us around and walk him backward toward the bedroom. I hadn't planned on this, but fuck it, food can wait.

Collapsing back onto the bed, I come down right on top of him and rest my elbows on either side of his head, nibbling along his bottom lip. His arms come up, fingers sifting through my just-washed curls and my hips press in, rubbing against him.

Dammit, I'm not taking it slow now, not after the day I've had. Kissing down his neck, I unbutton his shirt and trail my lips down each inch of skin that appears. When I glance up, he's watching me wide-eyed and I work my way down, blowing warm air through the fabric over his crotch. His hands are behind his head now, eyes heavy-lidded.

"Are we doing this now? Not eating?"

"Are you hungry?"

"I'm fine. I guess I thought we'd eat first and then …"

"I thought we'd spend the whole evening in bed. Maybe grab some snacks when we run out of fuel. Then I soap you all over in the shower and we have ridiculously hot shower sex. Well, that was my plan."

As I unfasten his pants, I remember my conversation with James about capturing all the early innocence, the first times.

"Can I take a photo?"

Alex's eyes light up. "Oh, yes, definitely."

All his reticence and yet he loves sexy photographs. I pick up my phone, taking a few quick photos of him, before grabbing some more arty ones from lower angles and his hard length behind his boxers, close up.

Alex beckons to me. "Give me the phone—let me take some of you."

He takes shots as I finish unfastening him, and more when I press my palm down on his cock through the fabric of his boxers.

"I'm obsessed with this," I say, and he laughs.

"I bet you're not as obsessed as I am," he chokes out as I rub my knuckle up and down his shaft.

His hand with the phone drops onto the bed. "Des."

"Mmm … hmm," I say, staring down at where I'm playing with him.

"Come up here."

I glance up at him.

"This is a bit overwhelming," he says.

I stop and climb up his body, nipping his lips and collapsing to his side. "Sorry. God, I'm so sorry."

He reaches out and squeezes my hand. "No, no, it's fine. I just …" A frown trips across his face. "I don't know what I'm doing here, and when you take over and go fast I'm nervous about how long I'll last and how many times we're doing this tonight and how much I need to hold back." All his words spill out in a rush and then he sucks in a deep breath. "All that about having sex all night," he whispers. "I'm not sure how often I can come in one evening."

Propping my hand on my elbow, I close my eyes. Calm your blood, Des . I lean in and kiss his temple.

"Well, now you've made me determined to discover the number of orgasms I can give you in one night," I say with a wink, but I drop my hand to his hair, soft under my fingers. "It's fine, Alex, coming once is perfect. God, more than perfect. There's no expectations, no obligations here. I'm just excited, that's all. Having you here, waking up with you … Sorry if I'm getting carried away."

He laughs. "I don't want you to think I wasn't enjoying that."

Taking one of his curls, I wind it around my finger. "There's no pressure to do anything. I'd be happy watching some TV with you and curling around each other all night."

His face goes soft. "I've never slept with someone else." His Adam's apple bobs. "As in: shared a bed with a guy."

And how did this little detail escape me? Of course he hasn't spent the night with a guy. He's been living at home and they don't know he's gay. They're lining up female partners for him. Wow. He's twenty-four. But hang on, he was at college, wasn't he?

"What happened at college?"

He shifts and props himself up on one elbow so we're facing each other on our sides.

"I spent a lot of time trying to convince myself that I was bisexual."

"You said that when I first met you."

He sighs. "I … The girls I dated girls at college, I think I told you I was never into it. The sex part was a struggle."

"But you went out with someone for a year?"

He nods. "A Jewish girl I met at college. But we didn't sleep together. That isn't something she would have done. My relationship history probably sounds pretty weird to you."

"Well, mine would probably sound weird to you. Lots of hookups and a few more longer-term relationships here and there. It's characterized by always moving on."

Groaning, I tip forward until my face is in his shoulder. "That sounded bad, didn't it?"

Alex laughs. "Yes. Yes, it did."

Sighing, I roll fully onto my back, spreading my arms out on the bedcover.

"You know, it wasn't as awful as it appears. It was less about my consistency and more about all the opportunity. I moved into the city and went to all these places for the first time. Good-looking guys were everywhere, and by that time I knew all about staying safe. I realized pretty fast that a lot of guys just wanted to hook up. If I called someone after an evening, the response was often ‘What are you calling me for?' But I'd also be lying if I said I wasn't into it—I was like a kid in a candy shop. There was so much sex on offer."

Alex chews on a nail. "I must seem so na?ve to you."

"God, no, Alex. For years, I've been tired of the scene. I've tried to do longer-term with people, but I meet the wrong kinds of guys all the time. George was one of those people. Whoever it is, they always end up being unfaithful. I've felt like you do now: the odd fish, the strange person who wants loyalty."

Alex's lips twitch. "Des. You're on Grindr."

I start to laugh. "Yeah, yeah, okay. I know. Not the ideal place," I mumble, waving my hand. "And I've had fun on Grindr. I don't want to give you the impression that I haven't liked the picture my history paints. I've had a good time. A great time."

He nods, and I lace my fingers through his, bringing them to my mouth and kissing them.

"It's the right time for another kind of good time now," I whisper, closing my eyes, then turning my head toward him. "I don't want you to think I'm giving anything up or that I'm changing for you. I've wanted something longer-term for a long time and I'm loving this." I squeeze his hand. "I'm loving taking it slow. You asked me several times the other night whether things were lame and they're not. Not at all. These past six weeks have been amazing."

This gets me a half smile. "Good."

I tilt my head at him. "Shall we eat?"

And his smile broadens as he nods.

After dinner and an episode of NCIS , Alex disappears into the bathroom and comes out in some cute sleep shorts, hesitating by the bed.

"Which side do you want to make yours?" I grin up at him.

"The one nearest the door," he says.

That came out so automatically. "Why's that?"

"So I can escape."

My eyes widen.

He laughs. "Oh God, that came out so badly. When I was younger it was about escaping my dad," he adds.

Shock rolls through me. "Did he abuse you?"

"Oh no! He just had a temper. At some point I realized we had all put our beds close to the door. As I got older, I'd follow my father into my sisters' rooms if I thought he was going to rip into them." He shrugs.

Yeah. Okay. I've stepped in a few times for my siblings, too. We have that role in common.

I shift across and pat the bed. "Get your ass in here."

He places his glasses on the nightstand and slides in beside me, settling on his back and pulling the sheet up over us. Pushing at his shoulder to turn him so his back is toward me, I curl up into him slotting my arm around his torso and resting the palm of my hand in the middle of his chest. I bury my nose in his hair. Apples again and … fuck. If that's his shampoo, apples are going to torment me until the end of time.

"Um, Des?"

"Yes?" I mumble into his head.

"What are you doing?"

"Sleeping."

He lets out a long sigh that I feel through my hand on his pecs. And that's how I know I've made the right call.

"But don't you want to …?"

"I'm savoring this." I squeeze his pecs. "This is our first night together."

"Okay," he says. He pulls my hand up from his chest and kisses my fingers before wriggling back into me. His ribs move softly in and out against mine.

And I listen to the sirens and the cars and my heart clenches. This could be my life.