18. Gibson

18

GIBSON

C hristian’s question is as stimulating as a mouth on my cock. I adjust myself in my pants before my dick gets any harder and try not to picture what I think he’s asking me to picture—someone else with access to his bent, beautiful body. “Why would you think that?” I ask, keeping my voice level.

“Sounds a little like you have a conscientious objection to me entering into a Dom/sub relationship without having proper mental health care first.”

“I didn’t say that. In fact, I might have to insist as your employer that I be the one to do it. Though it complicates things.”

He snorts. “You think?”

“Here’s what I’m struggling with.” I lift my head, ignoring the sharp twinge in my groin. “Obviously I want you take the job. You seem to have a knack for it. I also, as I mentioned before, look forward to getting to know you better.”

Christian nods like he’s with me so far. With the sun behind his head, the blonde halo around him reminds of an eclipse. I can’t entirely make out his features, and that makes this conversation somewhat easier, but I feel paper-thin. Transparent. My need written all over me. “That being said, I’d absolutely want to be the one to do it.”

“How would that work?”

“I guess we’d need to compartmentalize.”

“Well, we have the work schedule figured out,” he says.

“True, and we’re getting to know each other better now, if I’m not misreading the situation.”

“Is it better to schedule scenes or let them happen organically?” Christian asks.

I can’t help my smile. “In our case? I think scheduling would work best.”

“That seems wise.”

I run a hand through my hair. “None of this seems wise.”

“Doable, then?”

I let out a short laugh. “Until it isn’t.”

“Why you?” he asks.

Because I know exactly what you need.

I press my lips together and pick up my champagne, wishing it were something stronger. “Would you prefer I choose someone else for you?”

“That’s a bossy suggestion.”

I drain my glass. “See? I’ve started already. Might as well let me finish the job.”

“Tonight?”

“Jesus, no. You need to think about this. I need to think about this. It’s one thing when I’m sitting here staring at you, but it might be another when I wake up tomorrow and come to my senses. You’re a flirt.”

“I am not,” he says, surprised.

“You don’t want someone else. Do you?”

He shakes his head.

“It’s all right. I only feel slightly manipulated.”

The sun has moved enough by now that I see his smile. “We should probably eat. ”

“I’m not sure I can,” he says.

“Are you feeling okay?”

“I’m a little on edge.”

“By all means.” I wave at the champagne bottle. “Have another drink.”

“It’s out.”

“Ah.”

“I have some tequila in my apartment,” he says. “You probably want to go to the club.”

“I like tequila,” I say.

“You don’t have any?” he asks.

I laugh. “Was that too subtle?”

Christian’s brows lift. “You want to come back to my place?”

“I could use a change of scenery.”

“Okay. But I don’t want any comments about my kitchen.”

“I would never.”

He laughs again, because we both know I always .

He gestures at the salads. “Should we take this?”

“Leave it.” I scoot my chair back to stand. “I’ll have my housekeeper come up and clear it.”

“I have some leftover Thai,” he says as we walk together to the door leading into the building.

“That sounds good.”

Of course he opens the door for me. I walk through it and wait for him, but I beat him to the elevator button. The chastising look he gives me makes me desperate to kiss him.

But kissing wasn’t one of the topics we discussed, and I regret that already. One more thing to mull over and be depressed about. We ride the elevator shoulder to shoulder, leaning on the side wall. Not because it’s crowded. We’re the only people on it.

I find myself more comfortable at his side than opposite him. Remembering the way we’d leaned on each other as we climbed all those stairs in Rome, propping each other up, I’m led right back to the urge to kiss him. About halfway down, I look at him .

His head turns slowly, and we stare. He speaks first. “So…getting to know each other better means…?”

“Don’t let me start kissing you again,” I say.

“No promises.”

“I don’t know what the fuck it is about you,” I say, like the elevator vents are pumping out truth serum.

“I don’t get it either to be honest,” he says, his voice low and stirring.

“About who?” I ask. “Me or you?”

“Me. You’ve really never been into a guy before?”

“Never.”

“And you don’t know why me?” he asks.

“I mean, I do …”

“Why?”

“Have you seen your mouth?”

He answers with a smile that draws me closer.

I do everything in my power not to touch him. “You have to do what I say.”

His gaze drops to my mouth. “You said no scene tonight.”

“I didn’t factor in the fumes in here.”

“I don’t smell anything.”

“You should put your nose here,” I say pointing at a spot on the side of my neck.

“Now who’s flirting?”

“This isn’t flirting. This is flailing.”

“Hot,” he says with that sexy grin.

“You think you can stop me from crossing a line?” I ask.

“Why would I stop you?” he asks. “Have you tasted yourself?”

“Jesus,” I groan, and just as I lean in to grab hold of his lips with mine, the elevator comes to an abrupt halt. The doors side open, revealing the lobby.

Christian takes a sharp breath, and I duck my head, my forehead bumping his shoulder. “Come on,” he says. “Let’s get you drunk. You’ll do less damage that way. ”

My new assistant pats me on the back and gestures toward the lobby. I stumble into it, my dick stiff and aching. He overtakes my stride, leading the way to the stairwell down to the basement, where it takes every ounce of will power in my cells not to shove him against the wall and take his mouth.

But I manage not to. I even make it into his extremely dark apartment and onto his worn, spring-loaded, sleeper sofa where he brings over two glasses and a bottle of Espolon. “I’m sure whatever you’ve got is better,” he says, taking a seat more than an arm’s length away.

“You don’t like this one?” I ask, examining the bottle.

“I like it fine, but it’s thirty bucks. You strike me as the hundred-twenty dollar type.”

I laugh. “I have no idea how much anything costs. Literally anything.”

“Yeah, I figured.”

“Do you think that makes me unrelatable?”

“Nah, you seem pretty grounded in your privilege.”

“What does that even mean?” I ask.

“I don’t know. Just that I like it, I guess. You’re one of the good guys, Gibson.”

“Thank you.”

He nods.

“No, seriously,” I say. “That means a lot. I don’t always feel like it.” Marianne’s blackmail scheme comes to mind.

“So, what did you want to tell me about on the roof?”

“When? I feel like I said way too much in the elevator.”

“So that was it? You wanted to kiss me? Kind of a random answer to the question I asked.”

I sip the tequila, and it’s not bad at all. Smooth and slightly peppery, which I actually prefer to the sweeter ones or the smoky mezcals.

“You said you had a lot on your mind, and I asked like what.”

“Oh. Yeah. That was my marriage. ”

“Your open marriage? Just to clarify.”

“Yes. Hand to God. She’s probably got someone naked sucking her tits right now.”

“Oh.”

“It turns out she has a sex drive. It just excludes me entirely. Not that I don’t understand.”

“Still…assuming you want to have sex with her, that’s gotta be hard.”

“I do,” I admit pathetically.

“How long’s it been?”

“Twenty-one years.”

“Ouch.”

“She’s always said I was free to do whatever I needed to do, but it took me a long time to take her up on it, and I keep it to kink.”

“Mind if I ask why?”

“My heart is hers.”

“I get that,” Christian says softly, taking a small sip of tequila before downing the rest.

“Listen—for a scene—two drink limit,” I say.

He scowls at my random interjection.

“Just putting that out there while I’m thinking about it.”

“Okay, Dad.”

“Ooo…definitely not that,” I say, fighting the urge to cringe. “Too close.”

“I feel like I need to call you something besides Gibson .”

“What’s wrong with Gibson?”

“Nothing, but if we’re gonna have all these compartments I feel like I should get to call you different things, just to—you know—set a vibe.”

“Then you’ll need to get more creative.” I lean back on the couch in the small nook off the kitchen. On the opposite wall is a medium-sized flat screen on a TV stand. In front of me is a rectangular ottoman that’s firm enough to double as a coffee table. I kick off my shoes and stretch my legs onto in before untucking my shirt and sprawling.

“You nixed all the good ones already. I think I maxed out with Daddy.”

“During a scene you can call me whatever comes out of your mouth. Outside of that, let’s stick with Gibson.”

Christian leans back on the arm of the couch, feet on the cushions, knees bent, facing me. With his thighs together, it’s demure in a way, but his hair is killing me. The strands grazing his cheekbones could so easily be swept back with a pass of my hand.

I have to remind myself I told him to keep me off him. He also said he wouldn’t stop me if I couldn’t help myself, so a bit of a mixed signal, but this feels more like getting to know each other territory, which I do want. He’s so outside my circle of influence or peers, it’s easy to talk to him. To say things I wouldn’t admit to anyone else. Because he works for me, I trust him to keep a secret if I decide to tell him one. Or another one.

How many does he know already?

He’s got a very intense look on his face as he stares at me over the rim of his glass.

“What are you thinking about?” I ask.

He shakes his head. The white string lights make him look like an enchanted prince or something equally mystical and regal.

“Are you writing poetry in your head?”

“No.”

“Then what? You’re making me nervous.”

“You shouldn’t be so nosy. The answer might freak you out.”

“How is that not flirting?”

He gives me half a grin. “I was just thinking of ways to keep you from kissing me.”

“Besides the body language?” I ask, waving my hand to remind him he’s got me effectively blocked. “What’d you come up with? ”

“It’s probably too much,” he says.

I give him my best deadpan look. “Have you seen what I do for a living?”

“You know,” he says, his tone broadening as he sets his empty glass on the ottoman. “I don’t have a ton of experience with men, either. I wouldn’t say I’m bi in name only, but I’ve never had sex with a man, for example.”

“No?”

“I’m pretty inexperienced, but I have an adventurous mindset.”

I nod carefully. “I’m willing to hear you out.”

He moves, his long legs unfolding as he stands to tower over me. I open my legs, and he steps between them before kneeling on the floor. I watch his face and the intense look in his eyes on his way down. My dick stiffens at the sight of him there, broad shoulders crowded between my thighs.

“Okay, that’s hot,” I say in a strangled whisper. My heart is pounding so hard it’s going to crack a rib. My cock seems to rise more with each beat.

“Just this once,” he says.

I nod, repeating the words exactly. “Just this once.”