“What are you looking at?”
I don’t flinch at her nearness. I wasn’t planning on tracking her, but the moment she rose, I knew where she was out of the side of my eye while I reran the numbers.
She went to the window first, checking out the club below. My bet is we’re at half capacity both because of the late hour and because she, the starring attraction, is done for the night. She didn’t sleep the night through, just an hour or two. Long enough for me to review shit and for the crowds to die down a bit.
Her feet then took her around the room softly, as if on ballet slippers instead of the heels she usually wears when at the club.
I make a mental note to add carpet to my office. Having her barefoot is much more appealing for me than clunky shoes that probably hurt.
When she comes close, it’s harder than I expect to keep looking down. And now that she’s asked a question, I find it even more difficult. So I give up the pretense that I’m going to magically solve the issue that’s plagued this club for months and take her in as I answer her.
“Net profit.”
It’s a vague phrase, but she nods anyway as if it makes all the sense in the world. The motion forces a part of her hair—which I had released from its confines, along with the mask she had tied to her head—to slip past her ear and fall into her face.
Without hesitation, I rise and come around the desk. Her movements still, and I revel in the fact that she doesn’t back away as I raise my hand and slide that one piece of hair back to where it belongs, then cup her cheek. Her lips part on an exhale, and I move my hand down till my thumb can trace her bottom lip. The one she bites so frequently. It’s far too plump from how often she nibbles on it, even with the split in it.
I have half a thought to lean in and taste them, but then her stomach grumbles. I smirk at the subtle reminder that while she might owe me a debt, I’m the one responsible for keeping her from falling apart.
“Come on. Let’s getyou fed.”
Chapter 18—Payton
Islept more last night than I did the night before. Which I wasn’t expecting.
After… well, after what happened in the tech room, I crashed. I felt like I was out for days, but when I looked at the clock, it had been less than two hours. I was so tired from the night before and… everything else.
I still feel heat on my cheeks when I think about what happened in that room. I don’t know if it was watching the screens, letting go and feeling the music, or just… him. Whatever it was—probably a combination of everything—I let go in that moment more than I ever have in my life.
I shouldn’t have let that happen.
I got off on my boss. Like,reallygot off. He barely touched me, yet I was the one chasing that orgasm last night. I feel as if I should apologize, but I’m so not ready to bring it up. Like ever.
After we left the club last night, I expected… hell, I don’t know. But when he said he was going to feed me, every thought of what that could mean went in my head except for what it was. Him stopping in a back alley and having food brought out from the kitchen of some fancy restaurant wasn’t what I pictured. Nor was it us driving back to his place, where he told me to eat while he took a call, and his food, into the other room.
So I ate. And it was amazing. But with everything going on, I was too tired to wait up afterward for any kind oftalk. Too tired and embarrassed, really. Hiding was more my speed. From him, from what I’d done, from what I felt….
Not knowing where else to go, I went back to the room I’d slept in earlier, with my meager possessions on the chair by the desk that I seem to have claimed as my own. For however long he’ll allow it, anyway. I crashed quickly, and when I woke up, I felt better.
Not as sore as the morning before. Not refreshed either, but awake enough to grab a few things and head to the bathroom for a shower before walking into the living area.
I know he’s here, somewhere. A similar spread as yesterday sits on the table, and I half wonder if he puts it out or if someone comes and does it and then puts it away after. When we left yesterday to go to my place, neither of us touched the breakfast spread, but it was gone when he dropped me off to rest before work.
However, unlike yesterday, the juice isn’t out. Just a single cup already filled across from a coffee mug that’s half empty. A lump rises in my throat at something as simple as him remembering my drink preference. I grab a muffin and nibble on it as I take a moment to look around.
I don’t feel like a shadow will jump out and tell me to stop. No idea when I stopped feeling that in the last two days, but I do. Here, in this place, with Tommy, I’m not as scared as I was the last few months.
If I’m being honest with myself, I think I’ve been scared my entire life. Afraid of failure with dance or failing my parents who put in so much time and money into my dream. Not their own, but mine.
Living in the city always carried a healthy dose of fear as well. Sure, you overlooked it because it was life, but there’sa small weight off my shoulders while I look out the windows at the people moving about their day below. We might be in a busy part, but I don’t hear any traffic. No outside noise that would keep me up at night or add to my nightmares. Nothing telling me what a person is talking about as they march down the street on their cell phone. Unlike my old place, where I knew far more about the people around me than I wanted.
Even at dance or at my parents’ home, I could still hear outside noises. Again, it was part of life. Not as loud as my last apartment, but it was there.
But here? In Tommy’s home? I feel like I’m in another world. Time and space seem different here. And safe. It all feels safe.
“Oh good, you’re up.”
I turn at his voice and trip a bit over my feet as I swallow my tongue and thankfully don’t drop my muffin at the sight of him.
