Page 61 of Forever Not Yours

“That’s it,” I said sternly. “Bedtime for you. You’ve had enough talk for now. Go to bed. I need to sort out my work schedule and rebook all the patients I fobbed off this afternoon running around rescuing you from leather-daddies. Need to make some phone calls. Then I’ll come tuck you in later. And tomorrow? I expect to find you in bed next to me when I wake up.”

“So bossy,” he sassed.

“You love it.” I tapped a finger on his nose. My beautiful man. “And I love you.”

“Okay,” he said.

I didn’t expect anything else, but still, I felt it, and that was enough. More than enough.

Istill didn’t sleep, because my body didn’t work like that, but I got up and made myself a cup of tea, then watched the sun creep over the horizon with Flossie on my lap and sortedthings out on my phone. Changed addresses. Moved accounts. Drank another cup of tea.

Booked Flossie in for her jabs. It was fascinating how much you could get done at the crack of dawn if you put your mind to it.

Maybe I should change to decaf, but that would make me feel like an old man. Like my dad, who once again texted me with his concerns about the stock market, his blood pressure, Mum’s blood pressure and…yes, what was mine like? Had I checked? Then, of course, he asked me how I was doing, and had I dosed up my pump? My fault for admitting to my shortcomings when I’d texted him last night.

My parents cared. Of course they did, but at some point, I’d stopped caring myself, caring about howIfelt instead of living for others all the time. Because I think I did. I behaved the way others expected me to behave, and I let others piss all over me with a smile on my face. Like bloody Kieran, who had texted me asking what the fuck I was playing at, missing the team meeting two days in a row.

It was eight o clock. How had I missed that?

And now Jake was stumbling out of the bedroom, all messy hair and scruffy chin, bare-chested and gorgeous.

I blushed even thinking that. That I was allowed to think that. Maybe I was.

“Morning,” I said cheerily.

“You’re still here?”

“Where else would I be?”

He was messing with me, I got that. And then he walked towards me and leaned over on the sofa, planting messy morning-breath kisses all over my face, fisting the hair on the back of my head, exposing my neck to his mouth, then sucking at my skin like some goddamn vampire.

Idiot.

“Gotta go in early, catch up on the appointments I missed yesterday. James on reception is on the warpath because I haven’t submitted my diary either, so I’m going to be snowed under today.”

“I’ll behave,” I snarked.

“Youwill. But, Bastien?”

“Yeah?”

“Call me. If you need me, I’m here, okay? You’re the most important thing, and everything else can wait.”

“I know.” Weirdly, I did.

He left me, right there on the sofa, and I somehow got myself together. All these things I’d dreaded, I’d decided to face. Finally. I needed this, some time to take control and resume my life, on my terms. Being me, not someone else’s idea of who Bastien Dewaert should be.

Ha-ha, who was I kidding? I lived with Jake, who was the boss of the boss people out there. He made the rules—and made me do things. Like me allowing him to stick his bloody gloved fingers up my arse.

I wondered what else he had stashed in those drawers but knew better than to look. Hell, no. Just thinking about it made me horny. I tucked those thoughts away, because I had things to do, people to see, tasks to complete. Also, the not knowing what was next part? That turned me on more than I wanted to admit. I loved that he sprang things on me without me having to ask. That he instinctively seemed to know what would turn me on. And yeah. I came. Like proper, came.

I put some clothes on, leaving the suit slung on the chair by the door—workout gear it was—and grabbed my car fob. Drove on automatic all the way to the office, parking the car in its usual space. Then I just sat there, breathing, hoping I was doing the right thing.

Perhaps I was a chicken not asking to meet Juliet in private, away from the office, and I refused to do this over the phone, hiding behind a screen. This was me. And Juliet. Who deserved better than that.

My legs walked, reluctantly, but they did, ignoring the good mornings and snarky good afternoons from colleagues as I made my way towards Juliet’s office, hoping she’d be in.

I knew her schedule. Of course she was in. A rap at the door and I entered, and she didn’t even have the decency to look surprised. She just leant back in her chair and sighed.

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