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Bracing his free hand on the counter, he rode his hand through the powerful spurts, berating himself for being utterly besotted with his best friend’s new woman.
*
Callie
She woke alone in the huge bed with her face smushed into the pillow, one arm folded under her stomach, and her butt in the air like a sleeping toddler.
It didn’t come as a surprise; she often found herself in this position when she was tired.
What she wasn’t expecting was the empty space beside her, the one where—for the past few mornings—she’d been lured from sleep with a strong arm around her waist, a beard tickling her neck and shoulder, and a persistent, virile example of morning wood poking her derriere.
Groggily, she rolled onto her side, hissing at the ache in her lower half. Her thigh muscles were unhappy with her, and her more sensitive parts felt every moment of the night before.
Both men—and wasn’t that a jolt to the system—had been seriously attentive once Elias returned from the bathroom. They’d eased her off Evander’s cock as though she were made of glass, letting the towel Elias brought back catch the…mess.
He’d cleaned her up while Evander cuddled her, then ordered room service while they showered. By the time she was dressed in her PJs, still tired but more alert, she’d found herself stretched out on the sofa being hand-fed chicken nuggets and fries by her Daddy, watching some lawyer show calledSuits.
It had been…different, she mused. Uncomfortable, kind of, because she wasn’t used to one man’s attention being on her, let alone two. Yet after the…threesome or menage or whatever the hell it was, Elias had distanced himself, sitting at the end of the couch again, exchanging vague insults with Evander, but keeping himself apart.
When he left, part of her wished he’d stay, but he simply gave her a chaste kiss on the forehead, thanked her for an enjoyable evening, and returned to his own room with a quiet click of the door closing behind him.
She really did feel bad about him not getting off.
Kicking her legs restlessly on the cool sheets, she finally made a concerted effort to get out of bed. The soft carpet felt wonderful on her bare feet as she tottered to the ensuite bathroom with her eyes still half shut. She went through the motions of peeing and washing up, brushing her teeth and attempting to drag a comb through the tangled nest on her head.
The cotton robe hanging on the back of the door was her size, much to her surprise. Lemon yellow, super soft, and just right for snuggling. Tying the belt as she wandered out into the hallway, then the living room, she stopped and stared at the man sitting on the couch, one foot propped on the opposite knee, reading a goddamn newspaper.
Paper rustled as Elias lowered it slightly. Once he noted her arrival, he folded it neatly and set it aside, rising to take his position as Evander’s majordomo. “Good morning, miss. Can I get you something for breakfast?”
“Miss?” she echoed in confusion.
“Yes, miss. Would you prefer I call you something else?”
Okay, this was freaky. Either the evening’s shenanigans hadn’t happened anywhere but in her head, or Elias was remarkably adept at pretending they hadn’t been on that very couch with his head between her legs. “I…you called me Callie last night.”
A glimmer of heat flickered in his eyes before he expertly concealed it. “Last night, lines were blurred. I maintain a strict distance between duty and friendship during working hours; Evander is my boss, which means I serve him—and now you—to the best of my ability.”
That sounded like a pathetic excuse to cover up the fact she’d been a disappointment. Shoulders slumping, she wondered if that was why Evander wasn’t here this morning. Maybe they’d flipped a coin to see who had to stay behind, and Elias lost the toss.
Daniel had rarely spent the night with her. They’d go to a club and she’d stay two steps behind him, face downcast, and he’d do what he wanted because she’d been in love—or so she believed. She’d never seen the inside of his home, and if he decided to fuck her at her house, he was gone before the condom was dry.
This interaction with Elias carried the same bitter taste of failure.
Perpetual rejection wasn’t something she or her heart were equipped for, but she’d yet to uncover the reason why not one butbothof her lovers—or was that three now?—grew dissatisfied with her so quickly.
Was she not trying hard enough? Submitting…well, submissively enough for them? Did her trust issues, and the subsequent knock-on effect on her orgasms, make her so unlovable?
Well, it seemed her attempt to step outside her comfort zone was a huge disaster. The nightmare she’d envisioned when making the choice to come to Denver was coming true, and she was now stuck here without any idea how to get herself back home.
Elias said something, but the words skimmed over the surface of her comprehension. She was reeling inside, trying to balance out the pain so she could think. Stepping back when he moved toward her, she shook her head. “I have to get dressed.”
“Evander left orders for you to eat before the car arrives.”
Oh. At least he wasn’t going to strand her here; if she talked to someone at the airport, maybe they’d help her book a flight back to D.C. Going home to lick her wounds sounded appealing right now—retaining even a little bit of her dignity was a blessing.
Though her stomach rumbled at the thought of food, nausea overrode it. “I’m not hungry. What time…” Callie cleared her throat as tears clogged it, straining her voice. “What time do I need to leave?”
“Look at me, miss.”
