Two weeks. You are…preposterous. It was one of Sacha’s favourite English words. But still. Two weeks. How could so much have shifted in Sacha’s brain since then? He didn’t go on multiple dates. He didn’t have many friends. And he certainly didn’t cuddle after sex like he was doing right now.
He shifted, releasing his death grip around Jonah’s waist, and sat back, heart thundering. Disposing of the condom gave him something to do. He got up, threw it away, and washed his hands in Jonah’s bathroom.
Go home.
Pick your clothes up off the floor and go the hell home.
He found a clean wash cloth on the shelf and dampened it with warm water.
Go home.
He took it back to the bedroom. Jonah had rolled onto his back. His skin was flushed and shiny. Sacha gazed a moment, spellbound, then handed him the cloth.
“Thanks.” Jonah cleaned himself up, then shifted up the bed to drop his head on the pillows. The bedsheets were a mess. Sacha retrieved them and dragged them to cover Jonah’s legs.
Jonah grinned. “Tucking us in?”
“Tucking you in.”
“You’re leaving?”
“Yes.”
But Sacha didn’t move. He stood stock still while Jonah ran his sweet gaze over him, unabashed by his nakedness. This, he could do all night long. And Jonah seemed to know it. He rolled his eyes and patted the mattress beside him. “Don’t go just yet. Lie down a while. I promise I won’t jump you again.”
“You think I would mind?”
“I don’t know what you mind, Ivanov. You don’t say much that makes sense.”
“That is not true.”
“Then come here.”
Go home. Sacha lay down on the bed, sliding his legs beneath the rumpled sheets. He stretched out on his back, and gestured for Jonah to come closer. “This is what you want, no? To lie together?”
“What do you want, Sacha?”
To sleep for twelve hours then wake up and fuck you all over again. “I want my friend to be happy.”
“That’s sweet.”
“I am precious. Come here.”
Jonah smirked and followed Sacha’s direction until they were entwined, Jonah beneath Sacha’s arm with his head on Sacha’s chest. He danced his fingers on Sacha’s abdomen. It was a nice distraction from the faint headache blooming at Sacha’s temple. He closed his eyes, letting himself drift. Just for a moment. Then I will leave.
7
Jonah woke with a jump. Déjà vu hit him hard and he knew before his eyes fully opened that he was alone. Again. It was the second occasion Sacha had left him in bed before dawn broke, and the second Jonah couldn’t clearly recall it happening. But this time there had been no alcohol involved. Jonah had woken with a clear head, and he was a light sleeper, dammit. Was Sacha moving around his apartment like an assassin?
It was the only plausible explanation as to how he’d yet again managed to put Jonah’s apartment back together without being heard. He’d even washed and put away the coffee cups, and loaded the machine ready for the morning. He’s a ghost. If not for the tell-tale soreness of a wild night in, Jonah might just have believed it.
Dazed, he shuffled around, getting ready for the day, and bypassing the coffee machine with a daft sentiment that he didn’t want to disturb where Sacha had been too much. He dressed in a dark suit and a white shirt, and fastened Disney cufflinks—another present from his niece and nephews—at his wrists.
His hair was a lost cause. Even the shower couldn’t save it from looking as if he’d just tumbled from his bed. I should cut it. But he lacked the time and the inclination, so he let it be, and left the apartment, trying not to fixate on Sacha as he glanced from the window on the landing. He had back-to-back meetings ahead of him, on top of his usual workload. It was going to be a long day.
Jonah was habitually the first to arrive at the office, both at FG and Blutecc. He walked his routine on autopilot, flicking lights and computers on. Starting the coffee machine in the lounge area both companies shared. But this morning, someone had beaten him to it. The jug was full, and beside it were two boxes of festive pastries, one for each company.
Curious, Jonah filled a mug with java that had been brewed like rocket fuel and tasted like Christmas, and took it on a tour around the office, searching for whoever had been so thoughtful, but he found the FG side of the floor still empty. The only signs of life were coming from the Blutecc side, and Jonah rarely ventured over there unless there was a problem with the building.
Still clutching his cinnamon-scented coffee, he slid the dividing door open and stepped into Blutecc territory. It was quiet and dark, no lights had been switched on, but the glow of a computer lit up the back corner, and the tap tap of a keyboard guided Jonah in. He rounded the wall of the small alcove. Sacha was there, dressed in a fresh suit, his hair as disrupted as Jonah’s.
Jonah blinked. “It’s you.”
Brilliant, Gray. Just brilliant.
Sacha eyed him, his handsome face giving nothing away. “It is true, I am me. Good morning.”
“Um. Morning. You don’t usually get here this early.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I do, and for the two weeks you’ve worked here I haven’t seen you.”
“Maybe you have not looked.”
“I’ve looked.”
“Why?”
“Because—no. Fuck off. Stop talking in circles.”
Sacha grinned a little. “I have not really heard you curse outside of your bedroom.”
“Not true.” Jonah glanced over his shoulder, checking they were still truly alone. “I said fuck a lot when you blew me at my desk.”
Sacha’s hazel eyes glittered. “Okay. Perhaps I mean outside of that kind of conversation.”
Jonah didn’t much care what Sacha had actually meant. He wasn’t caffeinated enough yet for convoluted banter. “Anyway. I came to say thank you for the coffee and the pastries. I assume it was you?”
“It was.”
Jonah nodded. It was on the tip of his tongue to ask why, but he didn’t. The words stuck in his throat, as though Sacha was a stranger, not the man who’d fucked his brains out last night.
For something to do, he swiped Sacha’s empty mug and returned to the break room. He filled the mug with coffee and took it back to Sacha with one of the pastries from the Blutecc box.
Sacha was no longer alone. A striking platinum-haired woman Jonah had seen around was now beside him, leaning over his shoulder, peering at the laptop screen. She glanced up as Jonah paused in the doorway. Sacha didn’t. His frown was deep. Whatever was on the screen was irritating him.
Jonah forced himself to continue his path to the desk. He set his wares in front of Sacha and smiled at the woman. “There’s coffee, and Sacha brought pastries. Can I get you anything?”
A bemused flicker passed over the woman’s striking features. She shook her head. “No, thank you, Mr. Gray. I’m fine.”
“Okay then. Well, have a good day.” Jonah backed up and left the alcove without waiting for a response, if there had even been one. He strode through the Blutecc space, not releasing a breath until he was safely back on FG turf. Carl, the director of his creative team, waited for him with more bemusement.