Page 18 of Reluctantly You

And when the order has been placed, I decide that later, I’ll scroll for a hookup. I need to feel something other than the pain lingering inside of me. Maybe some kind of pleasure will be good for me. Maybe getting off is what I need.

The day passes endlessly, meeting after meeting, numbers flittering across my screen. In between calls, out of sheer boredom, I’ve ordered a cat tree and a collar. I’ll probably return them all, but still, it gives me something to do while listening to all these fuckers blather on and on about a company I don’t give a shit about anymore.

I checked my inbox a few times as well and have received no responses or interest in my applications for other employment. So who fucking knows what that’s about. Perhaps I should get a headhunter on the case, but the thought of working in another office as just another corporate stooge making other men rich, makes my stomach hurt.

I break down and find myself scrolling art classes instead.

There are a few at the local community college, and for a moment, my finger hovers over one, wanting to click it. What would it hurt? I have nothing else going on. I have no one. Just a cat who won’t leave me alone.

But then my finger falls away from the screen, and I set my phone face down on the desk.

No. I’m not doing it. It’s too late. I’m too old. I can’t change everything now.

I manage to get through the rest of my workday without running into anyone. Specifically Gideon who requested another meeting later in the day via e-mail. I deleted it and pretended I never got it.

Perhaps it went to junk. He’ll never know.

I sent him his damn reports, he can fuck off with this micromanaging shit.

When it gets close to five o’clock, I pack up and slink out of the office. I can feel Shondra’s eyes on me as the elevator doors close. As soon as I’m outside, I can breathe again, the warm air wrapping around me like a blanket. I run a hand through my messy hair and head home. I need to make sure that the cat hasn’t ruined my fucking house, hasn’t clawed it to pieces.

As soon as I arrive, the kitten meows loudly at me from its perch on the couch, obviously pissed that I was gone for so long. Thankfully, nothing seems to be ruined. Yet.

“Shut the fuck up,” I murmur as I go over to its dish and see that the food is gone and the water has been knocked over, the puddle seeping into my wood floors. With a harrumph, I mop up the mess, refill it all, and watch as the kitten scurries over and laps at it, as if I’ve deprived it of water all day.

“If you didn’t knock it over, maybe you wouldn’t be so thirsty.”

It shows me its butthole as a response. Little shit.

I stare at it and sigh. “I have to go to the gym.”

As I speak, the cat looks up at me and meows a response. Don’t know what the fuck that means, and don’t really care. I just scoop out the crap in the litter box and change into some workout clothes.

When I finally get to the gym, my eyes immediately scour the space for Emery, and I breathe a sigh of relief when I see he’s not here. I don’t have time to deal with him tonight. I’m really not disappointed he’s absent.

Before weights, I head toward the treadmills, wanting to start with a run before anything else. I slip my earphones in and step onto the machine, setting a light pace at first before upping the speed. By the time I hop off twenty minutes later, I’m sweating, my legs a little wobbly.

I wipe my forehead off and make my way over to the free weights, needing to do a few reps before going home. Just as I turn the corner, I see Gideon walk out of the locker room, a towel slung over his shoulders, body completely naked except for a slim Speedo.

What the fuck?

I’ve never seen him in this gym, and now here he is.

This is my space.Mine. He took my company, but he can’t take this.

And yet, I can’t look away. My feet stop moving, my entire body growing warm. He’s just as big under those expensive suits he wears at work—the only issue is that now I can seeall of him. Every hard muscle, the hair on his chest and legs, the bulge in his swimsuit.

A big one.

His dark eyes land on me as he approaches, and I watch as his muscles visibly flex.

“Hello, Mitchell,” he says darkly, and I feel my hands strangle the towel in my palms. My tongue grows too thick for my dry mouth. “Seems you could make your appointment at the gym, but not the one at work.”

I swallow and try to look away, but I can’t peel my eyes off him. His aura draws me in. He’s potent. Dangerous.

“This is my fucking gym,” I finally manage to rasp out.

He cocks his head slightly, and I feel his gaze all the way to my groin.

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