Page 48 of Negotiation Tactics

The hand that has been caressing my arm grips my wrist and guides it up until he has it held above my head. He presses his body against mine and I inhale sharply as his hardness brushes against my thigh. “I don’t think I want to let you go, Josh,” he says, hooking the fingers of his other hand under my chin and tipping it up. “I don’t think you want me to either, but… if you insist, I suppose I’ll have no other choice.”

He’s right. I don’t want to go home. And he must see it in my eyes as we gaze at each other, because he tightens his hold around my wrist and slams his mouth againstmine. With prodding licks, he coerces me to open for him, his tongue tangling with mine as it devours the inside of my mouth. As it maps it, explores it, owns it. It’s perfect, like he knows exactly what I need.

I moan when he presses his body flush with mine and starts working on my shirt. It doesn’t take him long to get rid of it and then his damp skin is against mine finally and I am in heaven.

“You drive me crazy,” he says, nibbling on my bottom lip. His eyes are an inferno of desire and they traverse every inch of my face, then neck, then body. His fingers are playing with my nipples, flicking them and rubbing them.

“I can get behind that,” I tease, making his eyes dance with amusement.

We are kissing again and then I’m in his arms, his hands digging into my ass as he carries me over to his bed and places me down.

Shit, what am I doing? Since that email from the commission, I’ve gotten shameless. But then again, I can taste victory, and this man was part of the reason why, so can you really blame me?

17

Alistair

WhenIslipoutof bed in the early hours of the morning to shower, I pause and just watch Josh’s sleeping form. I knew sex with him would feel amazing, but I didn’t expect it to be this addictive.

I underestimated him and this sex arrangement between us, I think, because I like him way too much in my bed like this. I also loved holding him in my arms as he fell asleep and I followed.

Taking my confusion with me, I enter the bathroom. Taking a shower clears my mind slightly, the lukewarm stream of water exactly what I need. I wonder how to approach my budding attraction to Joshua Anderson. He’s interested, just as I am, that much is obvious, but our realities make exploring this thing between us a little complicated. Not outright impossible, though. I love challenges anyway—they’ve never stopped me from getting what I want.

And Josh is most definitely something that I very much want. Even if I shouldn’t. I love that spark he has in him, the way he doesn’t compromise on his beliefs. Did it cross my mind to try to charm him so Devon Holidays gets the settlement it wants? It did, and I’m sure that if dad found out we’ve been seeing each other outside of work, he would demand I do just that. It’s yet another reason whythis is such a bad idea, considering the ongoing negotiations and the fact that my old man is already on my case about giving the commission a nudge. But well, I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it.

The next two weeks feel like I’m living a dream. Despite my efforts to do the logical thing and leave Josh alone until the negotiations are over, we can’t seem to stay away from each other. Lunch at non-gourmet restaurants becomes our norm, and we spend every other night together. I discover he loves to doodle even if he still denies it’s an actual hobby.

“So, what’s up with that? You do it often and you look happy,” I say as I tuck my hands inside the pockets of my leather jacket and realize the napkin with that cute fountain is still there. We are off for a lunch at a local Thai place.

“Well, I don’t know. I guess it’s a bit of a touchy subject for me because at one point I wanted to be an interior designer. My dad was an architect, and we had this dream to work together… But then he got sick and… everything changed. I started working to help cover the hospital bill and then I kind of just stuck with it. Don’t get me wrong, I love my job and I love helping people, but I guess a part of me is a little sad I didn’t pursue my dream.”

We enter the restaurant and claim the only free table, using the tablet provided to order our meals. I don’t really know what to say, so I opt for the lamest thing. “I’m sorry. It sucks that you lost your dad and had to give up your dream, too.”

“Thanks. And don’t worry, it was a long time ago. It’s not a big deal.”

Yes, but it doesn’t mean he’s over it. Maybe he’s convinced himself he moved on, but I just can’t shake this feeling whenever I watch him sketch something or doodle. It’s like he’s a different person, like he just can’t help himself. Like he… yearns it, but can’t let himself have it.

“How about you? Did you figure out what your hobbies are other than manifesting Lewis Devon’s perfect son?” he asks, changing the topic before I can dig deeper.

His words crash into me, sending ripples of shock all across me. I think he meant it as a tease—the part about me pretending to be the perfect son, but that statement stabs me right in the chest because of how true it is. I’ve been striving all my life to make my dad proud, to measure up to him, to ensure I won’t disappoint him, and I’ve neglected my own aspirations. Fuck, I don’t even know whether there is anything else that I want and I don’t know what to do with that realization. This was supposed to be a fun lunch date and not the time to have an epiphany about my life.

“Maybe I’ll find something once I’ve settled into my new role,” I say weakly, hating the way it makes me feel a little lost.

He hums, grinning. “I’m sure that you will. And I better be the first person you tell all about it.”

We slip into a conversation about his brothers, how he is happy that they are studying abroad and pursuing their dreams. I withhold a comment that maybe he could be doing the same, both because it’s not exactly my place to say that and because I’m still feeling a bit shaken.

My life continues to resemble an out-of-body experience for the few days after our lunch date. I’m stuck between enjoying the hell out of my time with Josh and pulling my hairs out when I try to come up with something I’m passionate about other than work. I also haven’t exactly told dad that I pressed the commission to meet with Josh, so that’s on my mind, too.

It takes about a month to set up the negotiations, so we are about halfway there. In theory, I still have time to drop the bomb on him, but with the rawness I’m still fighting on the inside since my chat about interests and hobbies with Josh, I’m really dreading an argument. I don’t want to disappoint dad, I want the best for our company, but I also want to set my foot down. I want to make my own decisions, to make mistakes if I must, so I can discover who I really am other than a puppet he can boss around.

Taking a deep breath, I decide to stop by the commission to see if they’ve set a date for the discussion with the union. If they have, I’ll talk to my old man this weekend. Yeah. I’ll sit him down and tell him what I have done and why. He might be stubborn and a bit stuck in his ways, but thanks to Josh’s ideas, I have a strong case.

Just as I am about to knock on the commission’s door and announce myself, my dad storms out. He freezes, and so do I, the frown he’s wearing deepening to abysmal levels. “Alistair. In my office. Now.”

The way he brushes past me knots my stomach. I have a bad feeling, and it only gets worse as I follow him to his temporary office.

“Can it wait until later? I’ve got somewhere to be” I ask as I close the door, checking the time. If I don’t leave in the next ten minutes, I’ll be late for lunch with Josh.

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