Page 43 of Played
A minute later, I’m standing in a scalding-hot shower with my head bent low, letting the water run over me. I can still smellhim. Still feel his mouth on my skin and his hands on my body. My muscles ache with the memory of what we did. I have no idea how long I stand here for, but as I suspected would be the case, I could stand here forever and use all the soap in the world, and it still wouldn’t be enough to wash him off me.
Chapter
Twenty-One
KING
“Morning, Mr. Blackthorn.” The name of the junior assistant escapes me, but I nod a greeting as she leans over me to grab a banana from the bowl I’m standing in front of.
I have no idea how long I’ve been stirring my coffee and contemplating the stupidity of what I did last night.
How did a simple walk in the rain lead me to Mason James’s apartment building? Why the hell did he let me in?
I know the answer to that one. Because, behind all of his arrogance and easy charm, he’s a good guy. A really good guy. He’s also technically my boss and the man I fucked last night.
It felt good though. Sinking into him was incredible. Familiar and new. Running my hands over his chiseled body was like heaven. He’s fucking spectacular, but I’m still an idiot for doing it. Which is why I ran out of there as soon as it was over. I’m such a coward.
“Any plans for tonight?” She’s so close I feel her breath on my face, reminding me of her presence. Her eyes rake over me while I’m thinking of her boss’s boss’s boss’s hot ass.
“None that I’d like to share.” I give her a tight smile and walk away. I’ve made a point of not cultivating any relationships with the employees here. That gives them less opportunity to ask questions and discover something about me they shouldn’t.
I’m here undertaking a health and safety audit. Nothing more. Certainly don’t want to make friends with any of these people, although I think being friends was the last thing Chanel was looking for. Yeah, that’s her name. Chanel. Like the perfume. I head down the hallway in time to see Hayden from HR go into Mason’s office.
Hayden has been on my radar since day one. For one thing, he spends far too much time in Mason’s office. Why the hell does the HR manager have that much face time with the COO? Two possible reasons: He wants to fuck him or he’s trying to get information he shouldn’t have. Or both. He definitely wants to fuck him though. It’s obvious from the way his eyes linger on Mason’s ass whenever he thinks nobody else is looking. I’m always watching though.
I lean against the wall, blowing on my hot coffee and watching the door for Hayden’s exit. He never remains in there for long, so maybe Mason is onto him too. My cell vibrates in my pocket, and I fish it out.
We need to discuss your grandfather’s will.
A text from my mother. No condolences. No emotion. Cold. Detached. Emmeline Worthington all over. I expect them to contest the will, and maybe they have every right to. My grandma made that thing over thirty years ago, so maybe it won’t hold up now.
Sliding the phone back into my pocket, I decide that I don’t give a fuck at this moment in time. Grampa is gone. Nothing will change that. While I’m grateful for the time we spent together,I’m also aware that it has made his loss more acute. There’s a gaping hole in my life now and nothing for me to fill it with. In the past, I used work as an escape, but this kind of hole can’t be filled with anything but more of the same. More connection. More feeling.
I spoke with the funeral director this morning, and as per his last wishes, Grampa will be cremated and there will be a small celebration of life with only a few select guests. Amanda and me, his fishing buddy Leonard, and my parents—if they choose to attend. As it’s a public opportunity to air their grief and garner some sympathy, no doubt they will.
I sip my coffee and go on staring at Mason’s office. It’s been ten minutes. What the fuck are they doing in there? I’m considering going to find out for myself when the door opens and Hayden walks out, a sheepish smile on his face.
Fucker.
I place my empty mug in a plant pot and stride across the hall. Deborah isn’t at her desk for some reason, which is probably why that sneaky little fuck got to stay in there for so long, but it’s also why I can walk straight in without knocking. It’s rude and disrespectful, but I’m acting on instinct. I need to see him. I need to make sure last night didn’t fuck everything up. I need him to look at me and not feel guilt or shame. What we did was reckless and stupid, but it was also something incredible.
He’s sitting behind his desk, brow furrowed as he stares at his computer. I close the door, and the sound gets his attention. He immediately starts chewing on his bottom lip. I wish I could tell what he was thinking. That look in his eyes could either mean he wants to punch me in the face or suck my cock.
“I wanted to thank you for last night,” I blurt out.
He arches an eyebrow.
Shit. “For letting me up, and you know, listening.” I run a hand over my neck. It’s so fucking hot in here. Why does he needeverywhere to be the same temperature as the surface of the sun? “Not for the other thing.”
“You’re not thanking me for the fucking?”
I glare at him. “Do I need to?”
He smiles. My knees almost buckle. The fuck is wrong with me? I sit in the chair opposite him before my legs give way entirely at the sight of those dimples. “You don’t have to thank me for any of it, King.”
Then why do I feel like I should? “Well, you didn’t have to let me come up, so…” I shrug, feeling awkward.
“You think I’d leave you standing in the rain after you told me your grandfather died?” He sounds hurt.
