Page 8 of Ctrl Me
I couldn’t answer. Because the rope in that box? I wanted someone doing to me what I suspected Gabe did with that. My IM dinged again.
Thomas. I expect a reply.
Thomas. As if I weren’t hard enough. I put my shaking hands on the keyboard.I didn’t think I could be so lucky.
Gabe’s chuckle was dark and delicious.
Doomed.Thank God there weren’t any meetings soon. Maybe I could calm the fuck down before I had to stand up again.
My screen flashed.
There’s a party I want to take you to on Saturday.
Heat raced down my spine, followed by ice. Party could mean board games and beer, or whips and racks—it had been at one of the latter types that I’d met Dominik. Want and fear clashed and goose bumps covered my arms. I was glad I’d worn a long-sleeved button-down to work.
Gabe had never been an asshole. I clung to that and let desire win all the way.
Rope?
Yes.
Oh fucking hell.
Code, Thomas. And breathe.
I sucked in a breath. Then another, and after a few minutes, I could even wrap my head around the text on my screen. All I had to do was make it to five o’clock tonight.
Just that. With Gabe and a large spool of rope sharing my cube.
I sucked in another lungful of air and put my fingers on the keyboard. Easy, right?
Soverydoomed.
* * *
I wasn’tsure how I made it, but the end of the workday rolled around and my brain hadn’t exploded. I’d even finished coding one project and fixed three bugs in some legacy code. Not bad for being completely out of my head most of the time.
That box. Gabe. Rope. A party.
All of that ran around my head as I rode the elevator down to the garage, holding the box for Gabe. Parking was expensive, but Gabe had won a free year’s worth at the last holiday party. I usually took the bus out of town, but he’d offered me a lift in exchange for carrying his spool of rope. At least that was the story spoken out loud. We both knew we needed to talk. I wanted to find out more about this party, and I needed something. A kiss, a touch. Whatever he was willing to give, other than that amazing grin plastered on his face. Too bad there were three other people in the elevator. They all got off at the garage level too, damn it.
I followed Gabe to his car. He popped the trunk and took the box out of my hands. “Doors are unlocked. Hop in.”
I slid into the passenger’s seat, closed the door, and belted myself in. A moment after the trunk thudded shut, Gabe sat down in the driver’s seat and shut his door. “You survived that nicely.”
I let out a laugh. “Barely.”
“I think you did remarkably well.” He belted himself in. “I’d even kiss you, but I’m not quite ready to let the office know we’re dating.”
I flinched. “Howarewe going to handle that?” Wasn’t there some golden rule about never dating coworkers, especially ones of the same gender?
He shrugged. “We let Fred know, basically. Then it goes from there.”
But where? Sure, our boss was a decent enough guy, and yes, I’d read the policy, but I didn’t believe it. Far easier to fire people than to let an office romance get in the way, especially between two men. And Pennsylvania was an at-will employment state—they could let either of us go for no reason whatsoever. When I’d announced I was moving, half a dozen queer coworkers had warned me not to come out at work. Pennsylvania wasn’t California.
Gabe gripped my knee. “I enjoy seeing you strung out . . . but inlust, not in worry. It’ll be fine.”
“I hope so.” My horrible relationship track record notwithstanding, I was hoping Pennsylvania wasbetter, at least for me.
