Page 53 of Counterpoint
Jackson eyed Adrian. “What about you?”
“Spent the weekend with my catnip, as you so generously called him.”
That earned him a laugh. “And?”
“We fucked and ate and I told him my life story.”
At that last bit the smile fell from Jackson’s lips. “Damn. Youareserious about this one.”
He was. Quite. And it seemed like Dominic was, too. Adrian shoved his duffel in the locker, grabbed his water bottle, and nodded toward the exit. “Shall we?”
Jackson rolled his eyes, and they headed out to cycle through whatever routine was in store for today.
As it turned out, Jackson went easy on him—and Adrian wanted to thank whoever Mr. Right Now had been for taking the edge off their workout. He didn’t want to admit how sore—and tired—he was from his weekend with Dominic. But the workout soothed the part of him that was roaring in circles as he processed what had happened.
He’d given much of himself. Gotten back quite a lot, too—including Dominic’s almost natural submission. That need to give in, to kneel, to give himself over. Adrian had also gotten a taste of another part of Dominic, one that blazed with strength and power. He was very much like the intricate knot-work on his shoulder—beautiful and complex. One moment, Dominic would moan and cry as Adrian took everything, and the next he could kiss and fuck Adrian with such passion and conviction.
A jewel indeed.
He turned all these thoughts over in his head, even as they headed into the office.
“He’s gotten to you.” Jackson adjusted his tie in the mirrored surface of the elevator bank. “Your catnip.”
“He has.” He met Jackson’s gaze. “And his name is Dominic.”
The elevator dinged, and Jackson clapped him on the back and murmured, “Good.”
They entered, and Adrian rode up to his well-enough job in a cube. Not quite nine. He wondered if Dominic was even awake yet.
Adrian woke his computer and sighed. Friday seemed very far away indeed.
* * *
Midday Wednesday was one of the hottest of the year. Before heading out to lunch, Adrian stripped off his suit jacket and tie, and rolled up his sleeves—and was utterly remorseful he hadn’t thought to bring shorts and a tank to work when the wall of humid, sticky air hit him when he strode out of his office building.
Thank goodness he’d settled on lunch with Janelle close by. Hopefully she wouldn’t want to sit outside, because he would both bake and burn—his Irish heritage was no match for sunlight like this, even if the brightness lifted his mood.
Unfortunately, she was waiting for him at a table on the patio. Thankfully, it was in the shade and there was a current of air that swept around them—fans, he realized. She offered her hand, and he took it, leaning down to kiss her cheek. “You look lovely.”
She did, too. He never flattered unnecessarily, and she knew it. A stylish sundress of reds and yellow complemented her rich brown skin and thick black hair. Every bit of her looked perfect and elegant and cool, despite the heat.
“Adrian,” she murmured as he sat opposite. “How are you?”
“Doing well, actually.”
“Mmm. Then what do I owe the pleasure of your company to, if not for consolation?”
He laughed. Yes, he did tend to seek her out when he needed advice or a sounding board about topics that made Jackson uncomfortable. More personal things. Family. Kink. “How about consultation?”
She raised an eyebrow.
Just then, the server came to take their orders. They both opted for salads and ice water—it was too hot for anything else. After the server left, Janelle’s eyebrow went right back up. “Consultation?”
He folded his hands on the table and studied them before looking up. “I’ve met someone.”
“My dear Adrian, I know you. You meetsomeonesall the time. You’ve never asked me to lunch to consult about one of your flings.”
“He’s not a fling.”
