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“Harrison’s board,” I start but he cuts me off.
“Yeah I know about that, he told me yesterday, or hell two days ago because it’s fucking late.”
“Oh right, I need to call Matt and ask if Iris and Zeke are back,” Harrison muses while he takes his phone out of his sweatpants’ pocket.
“I asked, he told me they got here about an hour ago and everything was fine. He failed to mention you had… company, though.”
Harrison rolls his eyes at Eian and comes back to sit with me, putting his arm around me, and I feel more settled now.
“Okay, well, I co-own a PR consulting firm, and he called us to ask what to do and we came up with me being his fake boyfriend to stick it to the bigots in his board, then we went to the gala, and he told me he wanted to sleep with me.”Why the fuck am I telling Eian Dempsey all this?“And of course I caved in a second because who fucking wouldn’t? I mean this is Harrison fucking Crawford.” I point my thumb at him and seriously,why can’t I just shut the fuck up?“Then we came back here, had sex, went to sleep, and then you woke him up.” I finally manage to clam up, and I see Eian staring at me with amusement, and some pity.
“You can stop being nervous around me now, I’d say I’m sorry about greeting you with my Glock, but I wasn’t expecting anyone, and I’m actually proud of how fast my reflexes are. I won’t hurt you unless I have a very good reason to.” His gaze hardens on the last sentence and the look has me swallowing hard. “But you seem like a good enough person, and you must be smart if this one called you for help, so stop it with the nervousness because it makes me twitchy, and no one wants to see me twitchy.”
“You really don’t,” Harrison pipes in. “He’s insufferable when he’s restless, has been all his life.” There’s enough humor in Harrison’s voice to set me at ease.
“I’ll try,” is all I can promise.
“Well, that’s all I can ask of you, I suppose. And now that you gave me an unnecessary play-by-play, I’ll go to my room and leave you to it.”
He stands up and leaves. I stare after him, honestly contemplating if I’ve just hallucinated the whole exchange, but when I pinch my arm, I realize I’m perfectly lucid.
I don’t know if that’s a good thing or not.
* * *
Harrison stopsmy movements in front of the bed. He crowds behind me. “I need to fuck you,” he says with a gravelly voice that sends shivers down my spine. His hands slide from my sides to my abdomen, and right when they meet over the buttons I fastened hastily before I went down, he says, “You need to say no if you want me to stop, do you understand?”
“Yes,” I answer feeling the thrill of anticipation thrumming in my veins.
“Say it.”
“If I want you to stop, I’ll say no.”
“Good,” he whispers darkly, then his fingers sneak in through the gap between buttons, and he rips the shirt open. He drags the sleeves down to my wrists but doesn’t let the fabric pass my hands, instead I feel him twist and tug it until it becomes an improvised way of tying me. Fuck yes. “Don’t. Move,” he commands, and I feel the instant release of tension because I can just follow his orders, I don’t have to do anything but obey. I see him grab the lube he placed on the nightstand after he cleaned me up hours ago, and my muscles relax even more.
Harrison is on edge. I can see it as clearly as I can see he’s trying to tamp down an explosion of anger. Toward me? Toward the situation?
I can’t know and probably will never know unless I needle and prod, and right now, that’s the last thing I want to do. All I want is to be at his mercy and for him to take.
He tosses the lube on the bed carelessly and stalks me with hard eyes. I see now why he asked me to say the words before, why he reminded me that one word from me and everything would stop. Because he wants to regain his control, to show me who’s boss after I threw his warning out the window. He wants to reclaim the control I took from him when I walked down the stairs.
I’ll let him do it, however he needs it.
After… After, when he feels better, more settled, I’ll explain how I’ll take the secret to my grave and how I would never put his life, the life of his children, and of countless other people who work for him, in jeopardy.
And I hope he believes me when I do.
If he doesn’t, then I’ll just have to prove myself to him.
Whatever he does to me now won’t scare me away, I know it in my gut, and I can’t wait for the moment I throw Harrison off balance when I show him who I really am, but I’ll only ever do that outside the bedroom.
He stands behind me again, and as his hands come around me there’s no pretense, no show of seduction. He goes right to the button and zipper of my slacks, then forcibly shoves the fabric down. I didn’t have time to put on my briefs, so there’s no other barriers for him to deal with.
With my hands pinned to my lower back, my ankles restricted by my pants, he pushes my torso forward and tells me, “Face on the mattress.” I fall willingly and even enjoy the hard bounce of my body since I have no way of breaking the fall.
The tall mattress makes the angle a good one for Harrison to just take himself out and ram into me, and dammit, I wish I hadn’t told him how important prep is for me, because he doesn’t do that. No. The man grabs both my ass cheeks and spreads them apart. He makes a noncommittal sound like he’s neither pleased or displeased. I want to squirm, but the way he’s bound me with the clothesIput on, I can’t.
He’s smart, I realize now more than ever.
