No, that’s so bland. It was perfection. It was heart-stopping.
As was what happened after. My body hums and sings with the pleasures I experienced. Pleasures he gave me like gifts, beautiful little explosions of delight that have weaved their way into my soul.
The Christmas gala is one week away. I’m looking down the barrel of workplace mayhem as I make sure everything is organised for our biggest event of the year. While every Billionaires’ Club party is a big deal, this is the one that draws almost the entire membership. It is our biggest fundraiser, a night not to be missed, and every year there’s an expectation that it will get bigger and better.
And I think this year will be pretty epic—but I can’t risk anything going wrong. Ordinarily, I wouldn’t let anything rob me of my focus. And yet, Nicholas definitely does that, and I wouldn’t, for all the stars in the sky, put a premature end to this.
I’m already dreading the gala purely for the fact it’s our line in the sand, the end to what we’re doing. I know how fast this week’s going to go.
I contemplate reaching for him, running my hand over his taut stomach, and lower still, waking him with my hands or my mouth, drawing him none-too-gently from his sleep. But he’s so peaceful and despite the fact tomorrow—no, today—is Sunday, I have to go down to one of the Chance facilities to give a talk. As tempted as I am for round two hundred, I know where my duties lie.
I push the sheet back with serious regrets and tiptoe out of his bed, out of his room, and I tell myself not to look back.
* * *
I sleep until midday then dress quickly—jeans and a sweater, a simple black coat and flats for today. I don’t dress up for Chance sessions. The whole thing is to be relatable to these guys. They have enough adults in their lives that don’t get them. I want them to see me as a friend, someone they can trust.
One of the things that’s become harder as the charity’s grown is that I get to do way less of this hands-on stuff than I’d like. I don’t get to talk to as many of our kids, I don’t get to meet them all. I’ve hired amazing staff, though, and I check in with them with enough regularity to know when things are working, and when they’re not.
Where’d you go?
The text message from Nicholas comes through as I arrive at our Brooklyn Chance headquarters. I smile.
I didn’t want to wake you, Sleeping Beauty.
I add an emoji with its tongue poking out.
Why didn’t you stay?
But we’ve talked about that. I feel better not actually sleeping the night—which is a silly distinction, but one that somehow makes sense. Boundaries will be my saviour when all of him is a sink hole, drawing me closer, making me want him, making me need him in a way I definitely didn’t expect.
I have a thing today.
A
thing?
Alicia Waterman, the manager of this Chance facility, walks towards me, her no-nonsense air instantly reassuring. I only have time to dash out a quick reply.
I’m giving a talk to some Chance kids in Brooklyn. I’ll call you later.
‘Alicia.’ I stuff my phone into the back pocket of my jeans. ‘All good to go?’
‘All ready.’ She nods crisply, falling into step beside me. ‘There’s a huge turnout. Over two hundred.’
I let out a low whistle. ‘That’s great.’
‘Will you have time afterwards for a quick sit-down? I need to talk to you about some of our vocational partners.’
‘Uh oh. That doesn’t sound good.’
Her smile is tight. ‘I’m sure it will be fine; just a hiccough. I just need to go through some options.’
A presentiment of concern moves down my spine. ‘You’re sure?’
She grimaces. ‘It’ll wait.’
‘Okay, fine. After.’