Page 7 of The Assignment: Room 3

“You are equal parts charming, sweet, and sinful. And that face of yours…”

“What, Jenna? You’d love to see my face between your thighs.”

“Oh my God, we’re walking the rest of the way in silence. I wasgoingto say your face is handsome. Nothing sexual.”

“Thanks, but you don’t know me, or you wouldn’t call me sweet.” I shove my hands in my pockets, slowing my pace for Jenna as her heels click-clack on the sidewalk. We walk the rest of the way in silence, her opinion of me sitting uncomfortably in my chest.

Shut it down.

When we arrive at her apartment building, Jenna seems surprised that I don’t try to put the moves on her. My mind is elsewhere. “Goodnight. Give me a call when the software for the club is ready. I’ll come toyouroffice.”

“Thanks for walking me home.”

“No problem. Now, get inside. I’m not leaving until I hear the ping of the elevator.”

She pushes up onto her tiptoes and gives me a quick peck on the cheek. “Thanks, Flex. Who knew you were such a gentleman.”

I open the lobby door and hold it for her. “Shh. Don’t tell anyone. It’ll ruin my reputation.” She gives me a conspiratorial wink and heads inside.

When I see the elevator doors close, I start the walk back to my place, contemplating what Jenna said. I don’t remember the last time someone called me ‘sweet.’ I’ve gone to great lengths to be anything but. It’s not a space I feel comfortable in.

Now that I think of it, I do remember the last person to see that side of me—Dalton’s mom. She was like a surrogate mom to me over the years, and she always saw the good. A week before she passed, I was sitting at her bedside, reading her a Nicholas Sparks book. She said I was a sweet boy. She didn’t remember who I was at that point, but I like to believe she knew somewhere deep down that I loved her more than words could say.

I shove my hands back in my pockets and pick up my pace. My mind is racing, and the thought of my empty apartment doesn’t seem so appealing, so I switch direction and head back to the club. It’s my home away from home, or maybe it is my home. I’m not sure if that is a testament to my friends or a pathetic commentary on my private life.

Chapter 2

FLEX

“Scotch on the rocks, Eli.”

“I thought you left.”

“I was just walking Jenna home. I’ve got some work to catch up on.”

“Did you strike out?” he says with a chuckle.

“She’s not my type.”

“Aren’tallwomen your type?” Eli and I have become friends since he took over as bar manager.

“Very funny.”

“I’m not kidding. She’s hot, smart, and super sexy. What’s not to like?”

“If you like her that much, why don’tyouask her out? She’s not into kink. You guys could be vanilla together.” I fight to keep a straight face.

“There’s nothing vanilla about the way I fuck. I’ve had no complaints.”

“Then you’re perfect for each other. She doesn’t want to get tied up and punished. She just needs some good D.”

The furrow of his brow tells me I’m aboutto get the third degree. “Eli, before you start the Spanish Inquisition, I need more alcohol.”

“I don’t know what you mean.” When you read people for a living, even micro body language is assessed in a split second.

“Just ask already.”

He slides a fresh drink across the bar before leaning his hip against the dark ebony. “Why do you want to torture women? Surely, you can get it up and enjoy a more conventional hookup.”

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