Page 50 of Crossing the Top Line

Ah, so it’s going to be one of those days.

I push the thought aside as I finish making my coffee, heading back to my couch to drink it as I finish waking up. The ceramic of my mug is warm in my hands, a grounding sensation. I focus on it to stop myself from thinking about how breakable the picture frames lining the hallway are. I know I shouldn’t be trying to repress the thoughts, but I can’t afford to waste time with them today. Not when I have to be at my battle station as the charity ball tickets drop in a few hours.

I lie on my couch for a while, just scrolling through my emails as I prepare for the day, when a text comes in, a selfie of Eli sitting on his back porch with a cup of coffee. Behind him is a spectacular sunrise, the reds and oranges nearly as breathtaking as his wide smile.

Eli: Morning,solsken. I hope I’m not waking you up, but I had to share this with someone.

Me: I’m about to get started with work. It’s a pretty view.

Eli: Yeah, I know. The sky’s great, too.

Eli: But it’s still not as beautiful and stunning as you are.

Eli: Wish you were here. I’d snuggle you so fucking hard. And by snuggle, I, of course, mean rearrange your insides until you can’t walk straight.

I roll my eyes and smile despite myself. This is a new cutesy nickname—sunshine, of all things—the latest in his effort to find something that “fits me.” I don’t know what Eli and I are, exactly, because he’s not following the usual alpha playbook. When I’ve hooked up with other guys of that designation in the past, they almost always start pushing for more of my time than I agree to give. And when I enforce my no-relationship boundaries, it’s always the end of the world.

But with Elijah…

The dark part of my mind keeps trying to tell me that he’s acting so casual because he isn’t as interested in me as I’d originally believed. Then he pulls out these sweet messages and his effortless flirting and it leaves next to no doubt of his intentions. But there’s no pressure on me to do anything. If I want to flirt, he’ll flirt back. If I want to leave him on read, I know he’s not going to blow me up.

Which is really convenient because I’ve got my work cut out for me today. And the messages from my coworkers are already coming it. So, despite my intrusive thoughts screaming at me to tell Eli to cash the check his mouth is writing, I drag myself off the couch and head to my office.

Once I sit at my desk, it’s easier to keep my mind from wandering into dangerous territory, only the occasional impulse to cuss out trolls in the comment sections surfacing. I make sure to type out those thoughts into a separate document, purging them as they occur. The document is several dozen pages long, the accumulation of years of tracked thoughts that my therapist and I address in our quarterly sessions. I have a note on my phone that serves the same purpose.

A notification pops up in the corner of my screen as I’m putting last-minute touches on a post, a push from my phone that’s still on the charger in my bedroom.

Oliver: I hope you spent your day off sleeping in, princess.

Something surges in my mind, a weird combination of intrusive thought and omega impulse that sends my hands to the keyboard. My fingers are typing before I can stop them, the message sent before I can control myself. I can only stare in horror at the message, and the read receipt that comes almost instantly.

Me: Are you thinking about me in bed?

My face is hot, and my eyes burn as my heart hammers in my chest. A bubble pops up, three blinking dots showing he’s typing. I’m in the middle of typing a retraction when his replies come through.

Oliver: It wouldn’t be the first time.

Oliver: Mostly in mine. Wearing only that gorgeous smile ;-)

Stomach clenching, my core clamps around nothing. A flush heats my cheeks, and I can’t help the smile that pulls at my cheeks. What little rationality I have left tries to tell me he’s probably just joking, but it’s drowned out by the wilder, destabilized part of my mind that’s in the driver’s seat today. And it’s that part that sends me back into my room, laying down and picking up my phone to continue the conversation.

Me: Why not my bed?

Oliver: Because I can’t picture something I’ve never seen. Eli claims he didn’t get a chance to really ‘take it all in’ during your night together.

Me: Or maybe he’s just holding out on you.

Oliver: I’m sure I could get it out of him.

Oliver: He’d betray his own mother if I edge him enough times.

I hum a little laugh, my imagination not running but flying away with that mental image. Elijah in a chair, ankles tied to the legs with his arms bound behind him. His magnificent cock throbbing as he begs for release. Oliver standing above him, dressed in that sexy-as-sin suit he wore to the home opener, sleeves rolled up to the elbows and amber eyes dark with desire and authority.

I release a breathy moan, my thighs sliding against each other as I roll onto my side.

Me: He said he’s not the punishing type, but I get the feeling you are.

Oliver: Only when my partner misbehaves.

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