Page 22 of Who We Are

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God forbid if anyone learns that he’s attracted to anyone—not even a woman. If he continues this way, he’ll become a scrooge. Is everyone in his family like this?

I wish he’d talk more about himself and his childhood. Other than learning that the quarterback of his high school popped his cherry, I don’t know anything else.

“This isn’t discreet, Matt,” Tristan complains as he tucks his dress shirt inside his pants. “How many times do I have to tell you that my office isn’t the place for this?”

“That’s not what you said a few moments ago,” I say while fixing myself and disposing of my condom. “Harder, Decker. Faster.Thosewere your words.”I take a couple of steps and kiss the side of his neck. “If you behave, I might let you fuck me one of these days, babe.”

“You know what I mean,” he growls.

I grin as I see him fight the pleasure of my presence with his rules. Just for that I should fuck him again.

“Should I remind you that you called me?” I point at my phone. “Your text reads:I need you, babe.”

He doesn’t have to say more. Each time he asks me to be with him, I am. And this goes both ways.

Tonight, I welcomed the distraction. In fact, over the last seven weeks, he’s become the best distraction I’ve ever had. We meet each other while I’m in California and when he goes to Seattle. He hates when I come to any of his bars or nightclubs, although he stops complaining once I fuck him thoroughly. The guy isn’t hard to please.

As long as I fake that I’m here to discuss business and I give him a couple of orgasms, he’s happy I showed up. Being in the closet doesn’t make me happy, but I trust he’ll work through that soon.

“Well, I assumed you’d come to my place when I was done working,” he says, fixing his tie and sliding on his jacket.

Fuck. Fuck.

That powerful-businessman look makes me want to fuck him again. That’s one of the things I love about us, he pretends to be in charge, but behind closed doors, I dominate the asshole.

“Not appear through my door an hour later.” He stops, tilts his head, and narrows his gaze. “Where were you?”

“In Santa Barbara. I was working, trying to catch up on some issues with the production company.” I pull him toward me and kiss him thoroughly. God, I can’t get enough of him.

There’s something about Tristan that makes me crave him on a daily basis. The more I have him, the more I want. We not only fuck, but we also hang out. I enjoy his company either way. It’s been almost two months since he finally caved and let himself come to me.

Seven weeks of hanging out with him here at work or hiking. He doesn’t enjoy playing video games as much as I do, but we compensate for that time by watching sports. All is good. We don’t need to like the same things to be friends—friends with some benefits.

“Are you going back to Seattle tomorrow?” he asks before pressing his lips against mine. I nod without letting him go, but he pushes me. “No, I can’t take another round. I’m understaffed tonight. Do you want to help? We can go to my place later and fly to Seattle in the morning.”

“I’m taking the late flight, you?”

“I can change my ticket if you…” He trails his gaze, shaking his head as he twists his lips. “No, I have to be there by noon. See you tomorrow night then?”

“I’ll stay and help, take you home for one last fuck, and then see you tomorrow night. Does that work for you?”

He looks around the room pensively. “I should say no.”

I smirk. “But you’re going to say yes, aren’t you?”

He nods and I can’t help but give him another kiss.

“You should come to Sunday dinner this weekend.”

“We agreed, Matthew. Have you told them?” His face hardens, and I regret mentioning dinner.

I shake my head, because for the first time in my life, I haven’t told a soul about who I’m seeing. Even if we are nothing official. Even if we are just hanging out. I’m excited about having Tristan in my life and I can’t tell a fucking soul about it. Not even my little sister, who happens to be my confidante.

“Please don’t start this shit. Not tonight.”

I lift my palms and shrug. “Dude, it’s dinner. They don’t have to know that I fuck you. There’s no pressure. I’m cool with what we’re doing. It’s all good.”

His jaw tightens, and instead of saying something, he leaves the office and I follow him. Fuck, I hate when he gets upset over stupid things. No. I hate that he’s trying to put me in a closet.


Tags: Claudia Burgoa Romance