Page 83 of Ask Me Something

He didn’t move toward me but instead lay on his back and stared at the ceiling. “You were right about how I’d feel if the positions were reversed today. I would have flipped out if an ex of yours showed up, and you’d been in town without calling. I’m an idiot, and I’m sorry.”

“Were you ever planning to tell me that you’d met up with her?”

“I’d like to think that eventually I would have. She’d been calling and apologizing for weeks. I have issues with things that are unresolved. I thought I owed her at least some sort of closure.”

“I get it. You’re always the good guy trying to smooth things over, but we had an agreement over rules that you set. You should’ve told me ahead of time, or, better yet, you could have talked with her over the phone.”

“I know. It pisses me off that she purposefully went in to upset you, especially when you killed the pitch earlier today. This should’ve been a night of celebration, and instead I ruined that. What did you end up saying to her?”

I filled him in on my parting shot, and he whistled.

“You’re impressive with things like that. No flinch, no prisoners. I’ve always admired that about you.”

Rather than take it like the compliment he intended, it was a little depressing that Brian admired traits that didn’t describe the real me. He, like everyone else, believed I had a natural ability to deal with situations like that. If he knew the truth, he’d be sorely disappointed.

“Do you forgive me?”

I didn’t hesitate, knowing him well enough to believe his intentions were exactly as he’d explained. “Yes, but don’t lie to me again, Brian. Omission is the same thing, especially to me.” I didn’t want to go into how not knowing I was adopted had affected me, but it was a definite trigger for when someone hid the truth about something involving me. I had a twinge of guilt that hiding my anxiety disorder was not being entirely honest but reasoned that it was a private matter that was nobody’s business. It certainly wasn’t something we’d put on the table to agree upon like in this situation.

“I won’t do it again.”

It was ironic that I was once again on the receiving end of an apology. It was also somewhat of a relief. His mistakes made me feel less intimidated and that I wouldn't be the only one to screw things up.

We both heard the sound of his cell phone coming from his pants pocket. He picked it up, frowned at the caller ID, and then silenced it.

“How many times has she called?” I asked.

“Too many. I’ll need to talk to her sooner or later, though, or she’ll keep calling.”

“Jamie is going to be an issue for me. I know you’re friends, and I’m trying hard not to give an ultimatum, but—”

“You don’t have to. Regardless of our relationship, I don’t want someone like that a part of my life. She’s obviously changed, or—I don’t know—maybe she was always like that, and I never noticed. I’ll send her an email tomorrow. What she said to you was inexcusable and I don’t care what her story is.”

My mind was marginally pacified by his lack of hesitation. “Wait. What story?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know yet, but I’m sure she’ll have something. It doesn’t matter, though.”

Once again, his complete faith that what I’d told him had actually happened humbled me.

“Were you sick because you were upset?”

I knew this question would come up again, and tried to play it off. “I was about to go home early and had just told Nancy I was about to leave because my stomach wasn’t feeling great when she buzzed in. Bad timing all the way around.”

He reached for me and sucked in his breath upon finding me naked. “Can I rub your back or hold you?”

It was significant that he wasn’t playing his usual role in the bedroom and was asking me what I wanted rather than dominating. “I’d rather have you inside of me.”

He inhaled sharply. “Are you sure? You’ve had a hell of a day.”

“I know. But the only time my mind truly turns off is when you take over.” And this was my fundamental realization. Brian’s dominance in the bedroom allowed me a freedom that I’d never experienced before. One that I craved at the moment more than anything: escape from my own mind and thinking about my panic attack or past.

He quickly slipped off his boxers. “What about your stomach?”

His hesitancy made me want him even more. “I’m feeling better.” Reaching for him, I found him hard already. His velvety softness and the bead of wetness at his tip made me want to taste him. I moved down, only to have his hand fist in my hair and stop me.

“I don’t think so,” his low voice warned. The absurdity of denying me the ability to pleasure him was a testament to how much he’d rather have the control instead. “Sit up against your headboard with your knees apart.”

I moved, trembling already with need. Before I’d had a chance to settle into position, his mouth found my center. But instead of moving fast and furious, he went slowly. His languid tongue trailed along my cleft, and I whimpered, yearning for more.

---