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“Then perhaps each match simply needs to start with a declaration of intent. Like tennis has a serve.”
What would he do if I declared my intent right now? That I wanted him in my bed, my life, forever. Would he run away? Would I lose this game?
I shifted my hold on him to wrap my arm around him as I let my hand drift down to his entrance. “Like, ‘I’m going to push you up against that wall and fuck you so hard you can’t remember your name’?”
He moaned as I teased his cock, diving farther to pick up moisture. Damn, he was slick. “That’s—that’s a good one,” he gasped.
If we were sticking to tennis analogies… “I believe you have to hit a return to me.” I curled my fingers inside him, and his eyes went blank.
“Uhh…”
“Shall we say point to me?”
I took my time with him, licking and teasing every inch of his skin. When we finally came, my cock buried deep in his ass, my eyes on his, it felt like the most glorious homecoming in the existence of humanity. As I lay down and wrapped my omega in my arms, still anxious that he might leave, without me even seeing it happening, with as little time as we had spent together, Michael had become my home. Something I had only found temporarily before, with Ms. Betsy.
I was scared shitless.
Chapter Nineteen
Michael
Why did he have to be so flipping perfect? Every time I finally gathered the courage to tell him, he had to go and do something amazing. It was never anything that most would consider big, either. He would notice something I had done or look at me with the intensity of a thousand suns as he gently ran his fingers through my hair. Once left me the sequel of a book I mentioned loving, on my desk. Not only wasn’t available to the public yet, making it a pretty big deal, but he remembered my mentioning it.
Porter did have a tendency to spend stupid amounts of money on me, but he learned quickly that the things that made me the happiest and, quite frankly, put me on my knees, had nothing to do with his wealth. They had everything to do with his kindness and thoughtfulness. He might be the richest person I had ever met, but that wasn’t who he was. Sometimes I got the impression I was the first person to think so, aside from Ms. Betsy who’d loved him through all of his successes and failures. I wished I’d had a chance to meet her.
Even at work, things were amazing. At first, I was almost as equally freaked out by the fact that I was pregnant as I was about my employment status. Porter put an end to that within a few days, assuring me that my job with his company was stable and I was valued as an employee. We might work together or, more accurately, he might be my boss, but at work he treated me the same as everyone else…with the exception of a few extended lunches. I appreciated that because I wanted to succeed because of me and not whom I was sleeping with.
And the sex. I still couldn’t get over the way we connected in that arena. I loved how we volleyed for power when things got good and dirty. Sometimes he would take control. And yeah, that was beyond hot. And other times, I would take control. and that was just as hot, but in a very different way. The thing that shocked me was that each and every time it got better, and my need to be with him grew. No getting bored. No going through the motions. True, we’d not been together long, but this wasn’t my first rodeo. By the time I’d reached this point in previous relationships, I’d always felt more like, I guess I should say yes, where now, with Porter, it was always I need him now.
Not that I was going to be sleeping with him for much longer. I got a call from the OB telling me that they wanted me to come in for some labs now that I had passed my first trimester. City doctors were so different from the ones my brother had. He’d heard the heartbeat at eight weeks and had an appointment at twelve. Here, they had me wait until twelve to even schedule the appointment, assuring me that it was protocol, and then sent me a packet of four thousand papers to fill out.
If I weren’t still in denial, I might have been more forceful about getting in. But going to the OB made it real. It meant a baby was coming and that Porter needed to know. And I would tell him. I would. How, I still didn’t know. But it would be soon. I couldn’t continue with him under the weight of this secret. A secret that would probably be the demise of what we were building, because what I was doing was made of evil. I knew it and let fear encourage me to continue, and that needed to end. I was going to tell him and not let anything get in the way because he had a right to know, a right to be part of it, a right to not be lied to.
My fear of losing him almost guaranteed that was exactly what was going to happen. Porter didn’t trust easily. I saw it in the workplace, in his stories, and from the way he so slowly opened up to me about his past. He trusted me, though. A stupid liar face. Once he saw me for what I was, that trust was going to be stripped away, leaving him with what? A father of his future child whom he couldn’t trust enough to take out his trash, much less raise his child.
Maybe I could beg him, let him see that I regretted not telling him from the first moment. Maybe that would be enough to have him give me a second chance. Even if he didn’t, I had to try. He deserved that. No, he deserved so much more. He deserved my complete honesty from the very beginning, not when I could no longer hide it. I glanced up, catching my reflection in the window. I didn’t even recognize myself anymore, much less like myself. And if I couldn’t stand myself, how could I ever expect him to love me? For that was what I wanted more than anything. For Porter to love and forgive me and want to be a part of his child’s life. A dream I’d shattered by my own actions.
Chapter Twenty
Porter
If I had built up any idea of what life with Michael would be like, I would have been wrong. I never could have imagined the steadiness, the comfort, the sheer joy he brought me, just by his presence. My ideas of what sex would be like with him? That, I had nearly nailed, but even my fantasies paled in comparison with reality. I nearly wanted to ask if someone had slipped me some drugs, and if they had, could I have some more? Because I never wanted to know what life without Michael was like again.
As a kid, I’d had really shit role models of what a romantic relationship could and should look like. Betsy was my model for unconditional love, but romantic love? I had nothing. At least, nothing positive. I was terrified that I was going to fuck this up with Michael, but I had long ago learned that the only way to get what you want is to plow right through those fears. I had let complacency lose him once when I didn’t really dig to find out where he was. That wouldn’t happen again.
I had cancelled a few small trips to meet with clients since reconnecting with Michael. Nothing had been as important as spending time with him. But the Andersons were one of our biggest clients, and Lucas Anderson was insisting on a personal meeting. Two weeks ago, it wouldn’t have been a question. Two weeks ago, I didn’t have Michael.
The trip would take a week. Besides meeting with the Andersons, there were a few other clients and potential clients I needed to connect with, and I wanted to get them all out of the way at once. Anything that wasn’t Michael felt like a nuisance right now, but these nuisances were my bread and butter; they were how I had built my company. I had learned to tend to them even when I didn’t feel like it, but I had never been challenged so strongly before.
But, I had a plan. And I knew how Michael loved plans. He’d said before he’d never been to New York City. I would whisk him away, and we’d go to a Broadway show, to the top of the Statue of Liberty, Central Park—all of the tourist stuff I’d never taken time for before because, without someone to share it with, what was the point? He’d be by my side as I discussed business, and afterward we’d recap, and he’d give me that completely different perspective he had of situations. Okay, that may not sound like the sexiest thing ever, but the fact that I knew I could trust Michael as my equal in all parts of my life? Nothing was a bigger turn-on.
“Mr. Dahl?” Cheryl’s voice came through the intercom. “Mr. Martin is here for your ten o’clock.”
I didn’t even try to stop the grin that crossed my face. “Send him in, please, Cheryl.”
I stood, buttoning one button of my suit coat, and walked to the front of my desk, leaned against it and crossed my legs. Michael looked slightly intimidated as he walked in. I’d never called him directly to my office before, I realized. Which was a shame. I remembered a stray thought I’d conjured when I’d taken him to lunch the day I discovered he worked in my company, that I should just refashion my office into Porter’s Pleasure Den. The idea still had merit. But instead of a sad, lonely room for one, it would be a sensual, inviting room for two.
“Stop looking at me like that,” Michael said.
