“I’m still dragging, I guess. I’ll be all right.” I forced a laugh. “Maybe I’m getting too old to handle clubs.”
Rick didn’t laugh. For a long moment, he studied me. Then he folded his arms, but quickly lowered them, as if he’d realized a second too late that it made him look defensive. “Something’s obviously wrong. What is it?”
I don’t even know where to start. If I told you—
I cleared my throat. “I’m all right. Honestly.”
“Does top drop usually last this long?”
“I haven’t had it in a while. It…” One by one, the potential rationalizations died when they reached my tongue. Rick wasn’t stupid, and every attempt I made to pull the wool over his eyes was an insult, not to mention a violation of the trust this kind of relationship depended on.
I sighed. “Look, it’ll pass. Just…just be patient with me.”
“Of course I will. It’s not impatience.” He lifted his hand slightly, then lowered it and glanced around, as if he’d nearly reached for me before remembering himself. “I’m just worried. I don’t want you struggling because of me.”
Well, it’s not because of you, per se…
I looked him in the eye and lifted my chin slightly. “How’s your schedule this weekend?”
“This—” He paused, and fidgeted. “Clear.”
“Good. Keep it that way. Because starting Friday night, you’re all mine.”
“Do you think you’ll be all—”
“Are you questioning me?”
He blinked. “No. Of course not.”
“Good. Friday night, then?”
He gulped, and a grin spread across his lips. “I can’t wait.”
“Neither can I.”
We went our separate ways, and as soon as I was out of his sight, I stopped and leaned against the wall. Closing my eyes, I released a heavy breath.
I was only going to be able to play the top-drop card for so long, which meant I had two options—get my head out of my ass and figure out how to be a Dom again, or come clean to Rick.
I had two days to remember how to be a Dom again. Two days to conjure up the side of me that had always been so natural and that had drawn Rick to me in the first place. Two days to figure out how to give him everything he wanted and needed me to give him.
Exactly the way my employer expected me to.
My stomach lurched up into my throat, and I swore into the silence.
I was fucked. Epically, undeniably, irreversibly fucked.
What the hell do I do now?
Chapter Thirty-One
Two nights later, I was no closer to an answer, but I was out of excuses and out of time. I pulled into Rick’s driveway, whispered a prayer that I could get my head together and killed the engine.
As he always did, he came out the front door before I was up the walk.
I faked the most convincing smile I could. “Hey.” I wrapped my arms around him. “I’ve been looking forward to seeing you.” At least that wasn’t a lie—I still wasn’t sure I could conjure up the energy to be what he needed tonight, but just holding him and kissing him here on his front porch was enough to shake some life into me. I had been looking forward to seeing him. I just wasn’t looking forward to the inevitable moment when I had to tip my hand.
Not now, though. Tonight, I needed to be what he needed.
We exchanged smiles. Another kiss. No words needed to be said—we both knew what we wanted. Or rather, what I would have wanted in the lifetime that existed prior to facing down my bosses.
In silence, he took my hand and led me inside, and then we were on our way up the stairs, and I felt like shit. This was all wrong. This was…this was not what I wanted.
Red! a voice screamed in the back of my mind. Red! Red! Red!
What the fuck? I was following my sub into his bedroom. Why did I feel more like a lamb being led to slaughter?
Oh. Right. Because I was out of my fucking mind. Because I wasn’t here to have sex with my boyfriend. I was here to keep him happy so he’d keep pouring money into the pockets of my firm, in hopes that some of that money would trickle down to me.
I toed the bedroom door closed behind us and begged both mind and body one last time not to let him down tonight.
Rick faced me. “How do you want—” He cocked his head. “You all right?”
Not even close.
His forehead creased, and in a gentle voice, he asked, “You’re still in that funk, aren’t you?”
I leaned heavily against the door. “It’s…” No, I wasn’t going to lie to him. This wasn’t top drop. “Fuck…”
“I can see it, Jon.” He stepped closer. “Something’s wrong, isn’t it?”
You don’t know the half of it.
I forced back the nausea burning its way up my throat.
“Jon.” He looked me right in the eyes. “Talk to me.”
My stomach churned. He wasn’t going to let this go, and I couldn’t blame him. If the roles had been reversed, I’d have been pushing him to talk to me too, especially if he wanted me to participate in a scene with him. I owed him the honesty I’d have expected from him.
“It’s…” I pinched the bridge of my nose and sighed. “The firm knows about us.”