“How often do you drink like you did last night?” I asked, carefully curious. I wasn’t going to accuse him of anything—I was just going to ask. Maybe get him to reflect a little on his own behaviors. But I didn’t have a whole lot of hope for his reaction.
“Why do you ask?” he asked as he crossed his arms over his chest.
“Just wondering,” I said. “Since I’ve seen it a few times.”
“What are you implying?” Dawson shot back.
“Nothing,” I said. “I’m just asking.”
“Well, it’s none of your fucking business,” he said. “I’m not some dumb college kid. I can have a few drinks to unwind if I want.”
“Never said you couldn’t,” I said. I’d had this conversation dozens of times before, from both sides, and it was almost laughably familiar. And I knew I wasn’t going to get anywhere with the conversation today, but maybe I’d plant some questioning seeds in his mind. Sometimes, that was all I could do.
“Then why’d you ask?” Dawson snapped. “You think you’re better than me just because you’ve seen me have a few too many? You didn’t seem the feel that way when we fucked last time.”
Even when he was angrily throwing these barbs at me, I felt—not pity, definitely not, but a kind of familiar compassion. I’d been there, faced with the consequences of the choices I’d made, and trying really hard to tell myself it wasn’t as bad as it was. Dawson was clearly deep in denial about his drinking, and that wasn’t something I could untangle for him. And that wasn’t something I wanted to do, either.
For as much as I wanted Dawson, there was a fucking laundry list of reasons I couldn’t get too close to him. One, it was really unwise for me to get close to a guy deep in the throes of a problematic relationship with alcohol, because that was flirting way too closely with my own triggers. Secondly, Dawson was technically still working for the club, and I’d already complicated that working relationship by sleeping with him once. It wouldn’t be a good idea to complicate it even further.
And third, I had my own issues to work out. Such as my sudden interest in sex. In sex with men. I needed to dig into that a little deeper before I started even considering getting seriously involved with anyone. Because Dawson was the first person I’d been really interested since Sienna, and I didn’t know what the hell that meant.
I raised my hands in a sign of surrender. “Sorry for being nosy,” I said. “You can spend your time however you want.”
I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose. When I looked up, Dawson was watching me with a lot less anger in his expression. Now, he just looked a little deflated. Almost ashamed, like he had last night when I’d brought him peanut butter toast.
“I’m gonna get in the shower,” I said. “I think maybe it’d be best if you went home.”
“Yeah,” Dawson agreed awkwardly. “Yeah, okay.”
I nodded and headed into the bathroom. I turned on the shower—the water pounded on the tile as Dawson gathered his things on the other side of the door. He murmured something, probably on the phone, and then the door to my apartment clicked shut.
I undressed quickly and stood under the hot spray, letting the water sluice down my back, soothing some of the tension that awkward conversation had created. And fuck, despite the way the conversation had ended, I was still hard. I braced one hand on the shower wall and wrapped my hand tightly around my cock, exhaling hard at the sudden relief.
Pleasure shot down my spine as I stroked myself roughly, groaning. A sudden fantasy nearly overwhelmed me: a blend of memory and imagined. God, if I hadn’t pushed Dawson away, what might he have done? Would he have kissed me hard and sloppy, with teeth, pressing me against the kitchen counter? Would he have let me slide a hand down his shorts and grip the strong muscle of his ass? I knew he would’ve—he’d wanted it badly, and his cock had been as hard as mine was when he’d pressed his hips against mine.
Fuck, if I were a worse person, I would’ve gripped him by the hips and then shoved him up against the counter and pressed my cock against his ass. Maybe wound a hand in a hair and pulled him back, curving his back into a pretty arch. Maybe I would’ve fucked him like that, right up against the counter, thrust deep inside of him and made him whine and gasp.
I jerked myself hard and fast, wishing it was Dawson’s tight, slick heat around me. It didn’t take long, with the vivid fantasy and the memory of Dawson’s lips pressed sloppily against my neck just minutes before, and the heat of his cock grinding against mine through our shorts. I came with a groan, pleasure coursing down my spine—my knees quivered threateningly, and I leaned heavily against the wall as I came in thick ropes onto the shower floor.
I shuddered through the aftershocks, and then slowly straightened up and let the hot water rinse me clean. I felt a little steadier, and a little more clear-headed. I knew I’d done the right thing, turning Dawson away and sending him home.
But unfortunately, I didn’t want him any less.
3
Dawson
On Monday, two days after the incident at Ballast, I showed up to work at the Elkin Lake clubhouse, same as I did every Monday. But this time, as I walked up to the cabin site with my toolbelt on and a coffee in hand, Brennan greeted me outside with a grimace. He was deep in discussion with Blade and Jonah, who both glanced at me a little curiously as I arrived.
Curious—or judgmental? I wasn’t sure, but my skin crawled regardless.
From the expression on Brennan’s face, though, it was obvious he knew what happened this weekend. And it was obvious he wasn’t happy about it. He only got that particular pinched expression when he was really annoyed with something I’d done.
Had Gunnar been talking about what happened at Ballast? Or worse—had Nix? The thought of Nix telling everyone how he’d brought me back to the motel and coddled me like a kid made my stomach twist with shame. He didn’t seem like the type to run his mouth like that, but maybe he’d made an exception for me, since I’d acted like such a dickhead to him.
I sighed and took a long sip of my coffee, ignoring Brennan’s look.
Brennan finished up his conversation with Blade and shook both Blade’s and Jonah’s hands. They both nodded at me as they walked past but said nothing.
The rest of the work crew was due to arrive in a few minutes, but for now, it was just me and Brennan at the cabin site. Brennan straightened up and carded a hand through his hair. Ugh. I was really about to get reamed.
“How could you do that?” Brennan asked. “You had to cause a scene at Ballast again?”
Yep. Just as expected. I tried not to roll my eyes as I crossed my arms over my chest. It was too early to deal with Brennan when he was in his high-and-mighty boss mode. The last thing I needed right now was to defend myself to Brennan. It was still early, and I was still reeling from this weekend anyway, licking my wounds from Nix rejecting me and throwing me out.
I didn’t want to have Brennan chew me out, too.
“I didn’t cause a scene,” I said. “I just had a few drinks. So what?”
Brennan sighed and pressed his lips together. “Listen, the club has given us a lot already. This is a huge contract. Please don’t fuck it up.”