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Fuck, I need to wash off this feeling. Stumbling into my bedroom in nothing but boxer briefs, I head for the bathroom. Dracona jumps up on the bed and meows loudly. She knows I’m upset. I go to her, pull her close, and bury my face in her fur. “It’s all gone to shit,mon ange. I’m not sure what happened, but I would bet quite a sum that Victor is to blame. Thank goodness I have you. And Gunnar.” Just the mention of his name triggers the need to see him. I open my messaging app and fire off a text.
Me: Meet me here after work?
I don’t have to wait long for the reply.
Gunnar: Absolutely, beautifulwink emoji
Me: It’s been a bad day. I’ve been sent home
Me:Off work for the foreseeable future
Me:Too much info to go into in text
Me:I’ll tell you later. But I need you
I toss my phone on the bed and settle Dracona on the pillow, flopping down next to her and mentally will Gunnar here as quickly as possible.
18
Gunnar
IrereadJocelin’stextsand drag a hand through my hair. He’s not one for dramatics, so something is very wrong. I get up from my desk and go into Tadhg’s office, flashing the lights to get his attention. ‘I’d like to take the rest of the afternoon off. Something’s come up.’
Tadhg’s brow furrows with concern. ‘Is everything okay?’
‘I’m not sure yet. It’s Jocelin.’ I use his name sign, which is “reading” in ASL. ‘He’s very upset. Something happened at work, and they’ve sent him home.’ That gets me his full attention. ‘That. Exactly. I want to go and make sure he’s okay.’
He holds up a finger and raises his phone, I assume to try Jocelin. Moments later his full attention is on the screen. ‘Gunnar is in my office. What happened?’ I can’t see Tadhg’s phone screen as he watches Jocelin’s reply, so I wait anxiously, hoping for more details. ‘I understand. Call me when you can.’ He signs ILY and hangs up, tossing his phone on his desk with disgust. ‘He’s on paid leave pending some sort of investigation of misconduct. Seriously? What are they thinking?’ He makes a shooing motion. ‘I’ve never seen him this upset. Go. He should have someone there with him.’
That’s all the permission I need. Grabbing my laptop and coat, I fly out the door, wondering how things have gone from such a high point yesterday to Jocelin being put on leave today. I slide the strap of my messenger bag over my chest and swing onto my motorcycle, thankful I rode it to work today, because I practically sail through traffic, making it to Jocelin’s loft in half the time it would normally take. I may have bent a few traffic laws along the way.
I pull into the garage and give the guard my name, somehow refraining from desperately snatching the offered key card from his hand. The engine echoes through the concrete structure as I fly up the ramp, my tires screeching on the cement as I pull into Jocelin’s parking space. I kill the engine, run to the elevator, and fling myself inside as soon as the doors open. It takes two tries to get the damned control panel to recognize the key card, and the elevator creeps at a snail’s pace to Jocelin’s floor.
“Comeon. Gofaster.” When the doors open, I burst into the living room and almost trip over Jocelin’s suit coat. Snatching it from the floor, I toss it over the chair. “Jocelin?” There’s no answer, so I move further into the living room. “Joce?” When I see the trail of clothes, my stomach drops. For him to treat clothing like this, things are dire. I dump my messenger bag on the table and toss my coat over his, then follow the designer breadcrumbs, picking up the pieces as I climb the stairs to his bedroom.
The shower is running, so I dump his clothes in the corner and hurry into the bathroom. Jocelin is standing under the spray, his head down, with the water pouring over him. “Baby?” He doesn’t look up. “Joce. Sweetheart, look at me.” When he lifts his head, his red-rimmed eyes are so full of pain, I want to hurt whoever did this to him. I don’t even care if it’s Alistair. I take a calming breath, banking those feelings for later. Right now, Jocelin needs me more. “What happened?”
His hands clench into fists. “I don’t really want to talk about it.” His voice is hoarse and monotone. “Maybe later.”
I nod. “Alright. Is there anything I can do?”
“Would you hold me? I just need you to hold me.” He looks like he might fly apart, and god, I know that feeling all too well.
Without hesitation, I unbutton my dress shirt and slacks, drop everything to the floor, then step into the shower, pulling him tightly against my chest. Jocelin sighs and leans into me, resting his head on my shoulder. I nuzzle his wet hair, kissing his temple. “Better?”
He nods, and I take a moment to relax my muscles so he doesn’t feed on my tension. “I’m here, Joce. I have you. And I’m not going anywhere.” Jocelin takes a deep breath and nods. “Can I get you anything? Do anything for you?” His hands are tucked between us, crossed over his chest like he’s trying to hold himself together. “Joce.” He loosens his death-grip on himself, sliding a hand across my chest and down my torso. I grab his wrist as gently as I can, stopping its downward movement. “Joce.”
He turns his face up to me, pulling me into a searing kiss that I try to return, but it’s all teeth and anger. “Please, Gunnar. I need you.”
I move back and cup his face with my hand. “Sweetheart, look at me.” He meets and holds my gaze, and I can see the pain in his eyes; The anger he has bottled up inside. That’s a feeling I know intimately. He needs some way to let it out or it could turn destructive. I know all about that, too. I caress his face. “Tell me what you need.”
“You. I need you to fuck me. I’m so—” He clenches his hands into fists again, staring down at the pebbled floor as rage pours off him like the steam from the shower. “I just need you.”
I rest my hands on either side of his face and tilt it up until he’s looking into my eyes again. “Tell me you know what you’re asking. Tell me you won’t regret this later.”
He doesn’t drop my gaze as he replies. “I know what I’m asking. It’s nothing that I haven’t wanted since the moment I saw you at my office. And I won’t regret this, ever.” He places his hands over mine, gripping tightly. “Please, Gunnar. Don’t make me beg.”
I nod. “Okay, baby. Okay. I got you.”
