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He nods.
“I like you, too. Let me help you. Let me cover a month of rent. That’s it. One fucking month. And I know this probably sounds obnoxious to you, but it’s a Venmo transaction to me. I won’t offer anything else unless you ask but take this one goddamn thing so I can give you an answer to your question properly.”
“I can cover about a third of it,” he says, and my chest loosens slightly.
“Great.” I cup his face and kiss his mouth. “Even better.”
To my surprise he wraps his arms around me. “I need you to understand something,” he says into my hair. “I’m only doing this for you.”
I don’t respond. I can’t. My heart is doing something very strange in my chest. Something it’s literally never done before, and I can only describe as painful. I kiss him again since I have zero words, but if I had to pick two on pain of death, they would be these:
Thank God.
31
DREW
Olivier falls asleep fast, and I slide out of bed to take another shower. Not only because I’m covered in my own sweat and cum, but I need the space. After washing up, I can’t stand any longer. I sink into the tub, drop my head between my arms, and let all the emotions I’ve been holding in come tumbling out as the water pours over my head.
My chest aches like it’s ripping apart. Every sharp, desperate breath is laced with razor blades, and my body feels battered and heavy. Why the fuck would he want me to stay? He shouldn’t give a shit. I have nothing to offer. I don’t even have dreams anymore. My entire life is wasted and worthless. I’m pointless.
The shower runs cold too soon, and I try to get myself together in case he wakes up when I get back in bed. But it takes a few more minutes under the ice-cold stream to stop the heavy sobs from wrenching themselves from my chest.
The weight of melancholy is still on me as I push to my feet. I shiver as I dry off, and a glance in the mirror reveals lips as blue as Olivier’s get when I’m choking him. I can no longer resist the lure of the bed—his warm body skin-to-skin.
“Fuck, why are you so cold?” he asks, wrapping what feels like his entire being around me and tugging the covers in close.
“Hot water ran out.” My voice sounds as raw as I worried it might.
His leg around my waist tightens until there’s not a sliver of space between us. I press my blue lips into his neck. They practically melt against his heat. He strokes my hair in a repetitive, soothing motion until I stop shivering and drift off to sleep.
When I wake, it’s because Olivier is on the phone beside me, and he raised his voice. I check the time before I get annoyed with him for cutting my sleep short, but it’s five, and I need to get moving anyway.
“It’s ridiculous, though,” he’s saying. “No engagement moves this fast.”
He scowls, listening, and then, “I thought this was supposed to be convincing… Fine. Whatever.” He ends the call with a petulant punch of his thumb and tosses the phone to the foot of the bed where it bounces once and thunks onto the floor.
“Who was that?” I ask cautiously.
“My mother. I have an engagement party to go to on Saturday. Are you free?”
I huff. “No. Thank Christ.”
“If you’re worried you won’t have anything to wear, I could get you something.” He runs a hand up my chest, eyes locked on mine. “Dress you up…”
My dick slowly rises. “I’m working.”
“I can invite friends, though. Even special friends.”
I stop his hand from running over my very vulnerable, very exposed nipple. “I don’t want to go to your engagement party, Peach.” Even I can hear my pouty tone. Jesus.
“Very important people will be there…”
“Olivier,” I say, my weak attempt at a warning.
“Use me, Jack. Use me for my money and my connections the way you use me for my cock.”
Some miracle of a smile breaks through along with a full, throbbing erection. “You gonna be my sugar daddy?”
