A shaky breath escaped him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be dismissive.”
I hadn’t expected an apology. “Thank you.” I meant it too.
When he fell silent again, I felt more antsy than uncomfortable. I wanted to talk to him, I realized. I needed it, and hadn’t thought I’d get this opportunity.
After today, I wasn’t sure what I’d thought would happen, but I’d just never foreseen him calling me up tonight when thoughts of what we’d done in his office had me lying on my bed, staring up at the ceiling, trying to resolve the futile jealousy I’d experienced earlier.
Just because he was my first, didn’t mean I was his.
What happened in the dark room meant nothing to him and everything to me.
Maybe if the lights hadn’t flashed on, maybe if I hadn’t seen him this morning, what had happened would just be spank bank material. As it was, I felt like he’d imprinted on me or something.
Ridiculous, but true.
“Do you—” He blew out a breath. “I’d like to see you again.”
My heart began pounding. “In the office?” I asked, even though I knew he didn’t mean that.
I had the feeling Devlin needed to be pinned down.
In more ways than one.
That had him grunting out an expletive. “No, Micah. Not at the fucking office. Preferably never at the office.”
“Then, where?”
“I don’t know. What do normal people do?”
“Normal people?” I queried, wariness making me wonder if he was dissing me.
“Yes,” he snapped. “Normal people. People who want to see each other again with the intention of doing more than just fucking.”
My lips twitched. “You mean, date?”
“Christ,” he groaned. “I don’t do dating.”
His emphasis on the word ‘do’ had me smiling. “No? Well, that’s what normal people do.”
“I’m not good at this.”
“I can tell,” I said dryly, and I had to admit, I wasn’t offended or insulted. I didn’t have it in me to be that way.
None of this was expected. How could it be? So his reaction to it was bound to make him uncomfortable. Especially when he was bi. At least, I thought he was. Or so deeply in the closet that he was in a parallel universe. That was also a possibility.
Maybe I was willing to be more lenient because of recently coming out. I knew how hard it was, knew that those first baby steps were petrifying in the extreme. Whatever Devlin was, whether it could be labeled or not, he deserved for me to treat him with a kindness I’d never had.
He simply grunted at my reply, then muttered, “Well? Do you want to?”
His graciousness had me grinning at the ceiling, and I liked that he had the ability to piss me off and amuse me in the span of a short conversation. One that, mostly, had been filled with silence.
“I’d like that very much,” was all I said.
“Okay. My driver will be at your place ASAP. Send me a live location so I can pass it on to him.”
And like that, he cut the call, making me wonder whether or not I should dress up or down, and whether or not it was too much to expect another epic orgasm by the end of the night…
Greed.
Yet another sin to lay at my door.
Ten
Devlin
It took guts to make that call.
Guts I had in every aspect of my life other than this part.
The Devlin Astley who ran a progressive publishing company, one that frequently made waves thanks to my steering of it, and was an astute businessman with a reputation across the Pond as well as in the heart of the US’s corporate landscape, was not the Devlin who was sitting here, scowling out of the window at Central Park.
I wasn’t lying when I said I didn’t date.
Why would I?
I took women to balls and events, had them dripping from my arm much like they dripped in Prada gowns and emerald ear bobs. They had their accessories, and I had them. Later that night, I’d fuck them, and then they’d leave.
I liked it that way.
Sleeping with someone who would get lipstick on my pillows, who’d make the bed linens smell of perfume, who’d expect me to hug them—how was I supposed to get to sleep with that polluting my space?
I didn’t call them the next day, would have Sadie get in touch when I either needed their assent to attend another event together or when I was horny.
As was the case with Emma tonight.
My visit to the dark room had been impromptu. I’d had an itch that I wanted Emma to scratch hence this evening’s appointment with her—something I’d had Sadie schedule yesterday morning, before my day had soured to shit.
Ordinarily, there could be weeks without me seeing my current squeeze, and I was more than okay with that.
But Micah, well, I wanted to fuck him. There wasn’t a single doubt in my mind that I’d like to end the night dick-deep in some part of him. Yet I also wanted to do something else with him.
That was the most perplexing thing.
What did one do with people when it wasn’t for business? I couldn’t take him to a party. I wasn’t comfortable with that. Micah wasn’t arm candy. Could men ever be that?
Or was I being old-fashioned?
Feeling the weight of thirty-eight years and the sixteen-year age gap like an albatross around my neck, I peered down at my phone when it buzzed in my hand.
Seeing a new iMessage from Micah, one that constituted of a link to his live location, nothing more and nothing less, I passed that onto Gian, my chauffeur, with a time frame.
A few seconds later, spying he’d read the message, I placed my phone on the window ledge, screen down, and turned around to face my living room.
I had a big screen TV with so many subscriptions on there I didn’t know what to do with them.
Netflix and chill?
Pondering the idea, I moved out of the room and headed toward the kitchen. There were always meals prepared and waiting for me.
Would he like to eat with me?
I hadn’t eaten with any of my other companions because they were more interested in devouring salad leaves than anything tasty, so I’d never thought to offer...
The kitchen was large, spacious, industrial-almost in its proportions. A waste, considering I never used it. My housekeeper did, though, so I assumed she appreciated the vast expanse with endless gleaming countertops. Or maybe she just loathed having to clean it? Either way, I wasn’t about to ask her.
I headed for the double-wide fridge and opened it up, spying several meals in containers with tags attached to each one, all labeled in a neat script.
In the freezer, there’d be more of these boxes.
Did I pick for us both? Or wait until Micah arrived to ask him?
I found with women that you could ask them what they wanted and they’d dither over the answer for a while. Men weren’t like that, but were gay men?
Realizing I was in the unenvious position of knowing fuck all about humans, straight, gay or in-between, I started dithering. Especially as I wondered if I should order take out. Would he want that?
Then there was what I was wearing.
I peered down at myself, at the jeans and the loose button-down shirt I wore. Hardly elegant.
Would Micah want to go out? I could always change if he did, but where would I take him?