“Thanks,” I said, but that didn’t make me feel any less stupid. “I guess I was hoping he wasn’t really a problem drinker. Or that he was getting it together by himself, and I didn’t have to worry.”
Mal nodded, still looking concerned.
“I guess I didn’t think he’d keep things from me,” I said. “Or at least, not something like this. I know that’s stupid.”
“It’s not stupid,” Mal said. “He clearly likes you, too. It’s no wonder he’s hiding this behavior from you—he knows what you’d do if you found out.”
I pressed my lips together, then took a sip of my coffee so I didn’t have to answer immediately. Because of course, I knew what I should do. And I knew ending things was the sanest and most responsible decision.
“He’s in denial,” I said. “If he’s hiding it, he knows he’s got a problem.”
“Exactly,” Mal said. He looked more than a little relieved that that was also the conclusion I’d come to. “He’s not ready to quit.”
“He’s just found a way to keep doing it without us finding out.”
Mal reached over the table and folded his hand over mine sympathetically. “I know this isn’t what you want to hear,” he said. “But I don’t want you to put your own sobriety at risk for him. You’ve worked too hard for it.”
“Yeah,” I said with a sigh. “Thank you for looking out with me. I’ll handle it.”
“Handle it how?” Mal asked.
“Not sure yet,” I admitted. “I’ll be all right, though.”
Mal didn’t look fully convinced, and he opened his mouth to say something, but his phone dinging in his pocket grabbed his attention. I was momentarily grateful for the distraction as he wrestled the phone out of his pocket and peered with a frown at the screen.
“Something wrong?” I asked.
“No, no, just an old date trying to reconnect,” he said. “Starting to get on my nerves.”
I laughed and shook my head. “Still got game at your age, huh?”
Mal rolled his eyes. “I’m not that old, son.”
I couldn’t blame an old date for bugging him, though. Mal was attractive, with gray at the temples of his dark hair, his dark, flawless skin with just crow’s feet and warm laugh lines, and his sharp, thoughtful eyes. Meeting Dawson had awoken something in me—suddenly I was seeing the handsomeness of my fellow club members with new eyes. Even if I wasn’t personally attracted to Mal, I saw why people would be.
I must’ve been quiet for too long, because Mal grinned and raised his eyebrows. “Checking me out?”
My cheeks heated with embarrassment. “No! I was just—”
Mal laughed and patted my hand again. “I’m just teasing you. It’s part of the ‘awakening’ experience.”
“Awakening?” I balked, blushing even harder.
“We all go through it,” Mal said. “You just got a late start. And yes, I know I look good.”
Mal’s warm laugh made me laugh, too, and some of the embarrassment eased. And it was true—he did look good. I wanted to text Dawson about it—and my heart sank as I realized I couldn’t. I knew that I wouldn’t be able to talk to him with the same ease we had been, at least not until I figured out what exactly was going on—and what I needed to do about it.
14
Dawson
I flopped back onto my bed, freshly showered and dressed only in my boxers. I’d already eaten dinner, cleaned up my house, and flipped irritably through the television channels, to no avail. Even after a long, lingering shower, it wasn’t nearly late enough to pass out—it was barely seven.
How the hell was I supposed to fill all this time?
I reached over to my nightstand and grabbed my phone, hoping briefly for a notification of some kind, but again, no dice. With a sigh, I opened my text chain with Nix—again. I’d scrolled through it so many times, whenever I was down or bored, re-reading the stupid jokes and memes and stories we’d shared as we went about our days. I was already addicted to texting him, waiting impatiently for the buzz in my pocket that meant he’d messaged me again. It was a way to feel close to him when our schedules didn’t allow us to actually be together.
I paused on a selfie he’d sent me last night. He’d taken it quickly, at my teasing request, and it’d delighted me to see him do as I’d asked. He was working an enforcement shift at Ballast, it appeared, and so the photo was dimly lit in purple, with the familiar brick wall of the bar behind him. His glasses were a little low on the bridge of his nose, and a small smile curled his full lips as he arched one brow.
God, he was so handsome. I lingered on the selfie and ran one hand up and down my chest.
I wondered what he was doing now. Working another shift at Ballast? He’d been enforcing a lot. Shame still coursed through me when I thought about that, how I could be sitting at the bar distracting him if I hadn’t been such a dumbass, but it wasn’t enough to outweigh the curl of arousal building as I thought about Nix.
He looked so hot when he was on duty, with his leather jacket tight around his broad shoulders, and his jeans low on his hips. I imagined him at Ballast, leaning against the wall with his thumbs hooked into the waistband of his jeans, surveying the room attentively, but relaxed.
I closed my eyes and spread my legs a little, then ran my hand over my cock over the fabric of my boxers. I was already halfway hard—it was almost embarrassing the hold Nix had over me.
I imagined myself leaning against the bar at Ballast while he was working, my legs spread where I was sitting on the stool, elbows propped on the bar behind me. I’d catch his eye, and then watch as Nix’s sharp eyes traveled over the length of my body. I’d caught him looking at me like that plenty of times, especially when I was working on the jobsite at the clubhouse, his gaze running hungrily over my body, making me feel hot all over. Hungry for his touch.
In the fantasy, I’d slowly lever off my stool at the bar, throw him a smirk, and then slip into the bathroom at Ballast. And he’d forgo his enforcement responsibilities and follow me. God, the thought turned me on—the thought that he’d want me so badly he’d step away from his job. Just for a few minutes. So it’d be rushed—the risk of getting caught only making it hotter.
I shoved my hand down the front of my boxers and wrapped it tight around the base of my cock. I groaned immediately at the contact as pleasure raced down my spine, sudden and intense. I imagined grabbing Nix by the lapels of his leather jacket and pulling him in for a rough, intense kiss—he’d cage me against the door of the bathroom, our combined weights ensuring no one else would come in and interrupt us.
I started to jerk myself off, hard and fast, imagining it was Nix’s callused hand. In the fantasy, he shoved his hand into my pants with no preamble, growling about how we needed to hurry, because he had to get back to work.
Fuck, that was hot. I braced my feet on the mattress and thrust my hips up to meet my fist, my mouth open with desire as I imagined Nix’s devouring kisses.
Then I imagined Nix dropping to his knees.