“Are we grabbing takeout on the way?” he asks, shivering against the cold. I chide myself for not coming out here before him to warm it up.
“I’m going to cook for you.”
He frowns, chewing on his lip before letting out a huff. “Adrian, what are we doing?”
“I don’t know,” I admit. “I just know you need to eat and I want to feed you.”
“You’re so matter-of-fact about this. I have to ask you,” he mutters. “Are you gay? Because, if you’re not, or at least bi, I feel like you’re sending me mixed messages. Tad says you go through assistants because when you get tired of fucking them, you move on.”
I recoil at his words. “I don’t fuck them.”
“But you like women.”
“I guess.”
He snorts out a laugh. “Either you do or you don’t, Frosty.”
“They’re just fine.”
“Do you like men?”
“I don’t believe so, no.”
“Another confusing ass answer.” He sighs. “What do you like?”
I reach over to take his trembling hand in mine, bringing it to my mouth to blow heat onto it. “You.”
“Okay…” he croaks out. “Not confusing then.”
“I don’t date or…fuck.”
The air is thick with tension.
“But?” he whispers, his brown eyes exploring me.
“But that’s because I never wanted to.”
“You do now?”
“No.”
He tries to take his hand from mine, but I squeeze it. “What then?”
“I just want you at my home in your tight non-work clothes with your hazelnut scent and your teasing smile. That’s all.”
“That’s all, huh?”
“I like your voice.”
He chuckles. “You’re unlike anyone I’ve ever known, Adrian. I don’t understand you. I’ve spent all week trying to figure you out and have come up empty-handed each time.”
“I’m simple.”
“Incredibly complex,” he argues. “Most days, I think you despise me—”
“No,” I rush out, horrified by his words. “I don’t despise you at all. You intrigue me to the point of madness. My mind swarms when I think of you, which is always because you never go away.” I pin him with a hard glare. “And I don’t want you to go away. I enjoy the cacophony you’ve created inside me. It’s refreshing. For once, I feel alive.”
His brown eyes dart back and forth, clearly trying to figure me out. There’s not much to know. I’m simple. Cut and dry. Black and white.
He’s soft and fluid and all the colors all at once.
“Let’s get to your place then,” he murmurs. “You better feed us well because I feel like we might need the energy later.”
Four
Rylan
Stupid.
I’m so, so stupid.
Yet, my dick thinks I’m brilliant. My eyes are greedy and my heart’s all in. It’s my brain that has reservations.
He’s my boss. Clearly sexually confused. And I’m eager to let him explore this—explore me—even though it’ll end in disaster as things like this always do.
But he held my hand…
I hate how my heart thunders inside my chest just thinking about how he’d grabbed my hand as though it was the most natural thing to do. Adrian Frost is going to decimate me. I can feel it. He’s dragging me back to his lair where he’ll no doubt ravish me to the point I don’t know which way is up, and when he’s had his fill, he’ll drop me like a bad habit. My employment will get dropped after that.
I know this will happen.
I know it.
So why am I so damn eager to do it anyway?
My job is important to me. After a week of being in the fray of the most successful magazine in the city, I’m in love. It has the fast-paced energy my parents’ magazine lacked. I can admit that my parents weren’t adapting to the changing times as they should have, which would have ultimately led to the closure of the magazine eventually. It’s not Adrian’s fault. In truth, by him paying them so well for the magazine, they were able to retire comfortably rather than slowly draining their life savings as their company went down with it. At least with the way it was handled, they retired with dignity.
I’m a bit melancholy as Adrian quietly navigates through traffic. No music. No talking. Yet, the air is still comfortable. I don’t have the urge to fill it with words. Instead, I sneak peeks at the handsome and highly successful man. He’s always so serious and never smiles. I wonder what it would look like shining on me like the sun. A craving begins throbbing through me, eager to see it pointed my way.
“They say we’re expecting nine inches tonight,” Adrian says absently.
It’s on the tip of my tongue to joke about nine inches, but it’d probably go over his head anyway. I stare at the heavy snow falling, marveling over its beauty, when he pulls up to an old building. Frowning, I try to imagine the fancy Mr. Frost living in such a place.
“This your building?” I ask, glancing over at him.