Page 42 of Sizzle

He takes too long to answer, which is just so much bullshit. It’s not like it’s a difficult question.

“Sort of,” he finally says.

“What the hell is that, sort of? Dude, if you don’t, somebody else is going to.” And just like that, I’m ready to beat the shit out of something again. I turn back to the heavy bag.

“That’s actually what we talked about,” he says.

“We who?”

“Me and Joelle.”

I’m pretty sure whatever he’s about to say is something I don’t want to hear, so I drop the towel and stretch my arms over my head, prepping for another round. I’m starting to feel the chill, which means it’s time to move.

“That’s your business,” I say, managing not to choke on the words. “She’s a good egg, Alex. I think she’ll be good for you.” I widen my stance, focusing on the bag in front of me, hoping to God he’ll take the hint.

He doesn’t. I see him out of the corner of my eye, slowly walking toward me. I don’t say anything. Hell, I can’t even move as he comes to stand next to the bag in front of me.

“We need to talk about this, Elliot,” he says quietly. I don’t know what the hell it is he thinks we need to talk about but my heart is suddenly beating its way out of my chest. I finally look him in the eye, glaring.

“There’s nothing to talk about. You and Joelle have at it. Best wishes and all that. Now get out of my way.”

“Elliot.”

I drop my fists, standing up. His eyes are warm and worried and I want to tell him not to worry about me. I want to hug him because I’m so damn glad he’s shaking off whatever funk he’s been in the last year.

I want to ask him what the hell happened on the phone yesterday.

No, I don’t. I haven’t let myself think about it, not for a second. Because that’s not who I am, and I won’t risk a decade of friendship over a few minutes of complete insanity.

There’s a light in his eyes now. The longer we stand here, the brighter it shines. I don’t know what it means, but I know that if I want things to stay the same between us, I have to shut this down fast.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” I say again, and look away.

Alex stands there another minute, then leaves the garage without another word.

I drop down on the bench, leaning my head back against the wall, trying to catch my breath. The workout stopped fifteen minutes ago. I don’t want to think about why my pulse is still racing like I just ran a marathon.

I hate that there’s this gigantic… thing between us we can’t talk about. But if we talk about it, I’ll have to think about it.

And if I think about it, it’s going to make me crazy again.

I can’t even get behind the wheel of my own car without getting hard anymore. Without remembering what he said, the way he sounded. The way that, for one single instant, I’d imagined him whispering in my ear for real, in person, and not just through the phone.

Even sitting here not thinking about it I’m hard as a damn rock.

Fucking crazy.

The more he talked, the hotter it got me. I had to be reacting to Joelle, right? To the memory of the most incredible woman. Anybody would find that hot.

Except she wasn’t there and she’s not the only person who’s tangled up in this. The other part of what made that night so goddamn good was watching Alex get her off, hearing him coax her where she needed to go, letting him have complete control over what happened and when.

I don’t know what freaks me out the most about that—giving up control, or that I was so ready to give it up to him. That’s not me. I mean, I can be flexible. I can delegate. Just because it took me two years to hire an assistant doesn’t mean I can’t let somebody else be in charge.

I just don’t like to.

And I sure as hell stay in charge between the sheets.

Not that Alex and I are going to be in bed. Together. At the same time.

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