He cants his head.
“It’s not really a merger. I’m taking over my father’s company.” There. It’s out there now. He could run and leak it to the world but something in my chest I don’t want to give a name to tells me I can trust him.
He lets out a low whistle. “That’s badass.”
It’s an unexpected reply. “You think?”
He nods. “Your dad’s a dick, Arte.”
We both reach for our drinks at the same time and our knuckles brush against each other. Shit. A whoosh of air leaves my lungs. It’s the simplest of touches, but it sends a bolt ofsomethingskittering up my arm.
“He deserves everything he gets.” He lifts his drink and moves it toward me in a ‘cheers’ action. “And you deserve to take everything he’s got.”
“Xavier?”
He pauses his glass, pressed against his lip and quirks his eyebrow at me in question.
“Are you staying here again tonight?”
He purses his lips. “That depends.”
My heart stutters. “On what?”
“Do you want me to stay here again tonight?”
CHAPTER 12
Xavier
Sitting in the best Mexican fusion restaurant in the country until closing and working through a bunch of corporate shit with the subject of my affections wasn’t on my bingo card. But I can’t say I didn’t enjoy myself.
The way his knuckles skimmed the back of my hand when we reached for our drinks, his eyes widening when I slid my thumb over his bottom lip to collect a few stray grains of rock salt he’d missed with his tongue, the way his eyes lingered on my lips as he dropped me off at my hotel for the night.
I have regrets.
Many, many fucking regrets. Not kissing him again? Regret. Not dragging him by those luscious black locks back to my hotel room? Regret. Not making plans for today? Biggest regret.
When I fell into bed last night, my rock-hard dick wouldn’t deflate, no matter how much I jerked off, no matter how much cum I milked from it. I woke up this morning with such a painfully raging boner that I’m considering going to Urgent Care.
My phone lights up on the bedside table next to me.
Artemis: Breakfast?
Part of me had worried that he’d wake up this morning and that crack, that blissful sliver of confidence would have been blocked up, and I’d never hear from him again.
Hope blooms like daffodils in spring in my chest. Breakfast, lunch, dinner, till death do us part… Whatever this man is open to with me, I’m here for. I’m all in.
My phone flashes with another message, this time it’s from one of my group members from school, and my stomach sinks. I missed our coworking session on Friday night to sort out the project. There’s a flutter of guilt that makes my insides clench, but I’ve covered for them plenty.
I’d ruin my near perfect GPA for this man.
I didn't just 'miss' the session; I sent them the completed risk-assessment models at 3:00 AM. In the world of finance, if you're the smartest person in the room, they don't care if you're doing it from a hotel bed in Iowa.
It isn't just about the grades though, I actually like the clean logic of a balanced ledger. In a world of chaotic puck bounces and Roman’s loud legacy, the numbers are the only thing that stay exactly where I put them, a quiet strength.
I may be a renowned playboy, but I’m also a fucking nerd, determined to get a good job with my finance degree— just in case hockey doesn’t work out for me. Because like it or not, not every good hockey player makes it into the NHL.
I’ll probably get a lower-than-normal grade for this project but it’s just one… right? One project out of an entire degree, it’s nothing. And yet my palms are breaking out in a sweat at the idea of not doing as well as usual.
