He opens his mouth in protest, looking lost.
“Please, Heath. I want you to know that I hear what you’re saying. But this…day. Thisfucking day. I just need this. Please,” he asks, looking up at me.
His pleading hits something in the vicinity of my heart, that same push and pull of longing and guilt. I feel bad for him, but this has really got to stop. I wouldn’t survive falling for him and having him run away.
Blink. Blink. He fists my shirt, eyes reddening as he fights back tears.
Okay, but it definitely stops after today.
“Clearly something is going on with you, and I hope that you address it in a healthier way going forward. But,” I say, running my hand down his belly, slipping below the waistband of his jock, gripping his dick, “I can help you take the edge off today.”
I jack him rough and dry, and he leans forehead on my chest, his body immediately limp, pliant. Feeling bad for the guy, I lick my middle finger and sneak down the back of his jeans, thrusting into him. His softthank youmakes my heart do that funny thing again, so I thrust a second finger into him, nailing that bundle of nerves while continuing to jack him. It feels weird and desperate, but somehow necessary—certainly for him, but maybe also for me.
He tightens his grip on my T-shirt, and I feel him clench around my fingers, his mouth open in a silent cry as his warm cum dribbles down my hand. We stand there for a second, wordless. Roly is inhaling and exhaling like he’s trying not to cry, but it doesn’t sound like he’s entirely successful.
I remove my shirt and wipe us down with it. Roly brightens up at the sight of my hairy chest and belly and throws his arms around me, rubbing his head against my chest like a cat marking its owner.
Which… reminds me that I am not hisanything. And that whatever is going on right now isn’t good for either of us, no matter how amazing his body feels.
“Roly,” I say softly, stealing a few more seconds of the warm press of his body against mine, knowing that I’ll never have a chance to feel it again. “I’m glad I could be here for you today, but we can’t do this anymore.”
He pulls away from me, his head down. “I’m sorry. I know you hate me.”
I stroke his jaw until I see his eyes. “Not even a little. I just… I can’t say no to you, so I’mbeggingyou to please stop asking. I know that the business stuff complicates things, and we’re bound to see each other in passing, but that’s it. I—I can’t. I’m sorry. It hurts too much.”
Looking down again, he nods in agreement. He puts back on his T-shirt and buttons his jeans, and walks out the door, closing it silently behind him.
I know that I did the right thing here. I know it. I just wish it didn’t feel so horrible.
Chapter Eighteen
Roly
How would I describe my feelings in this precise moment?
Humiliation is the overriding one, of course.
There are elements of sadness and longing, to be sure, but I’m also a little numb, so maybe I just need to get busy. Nick has been wanting me to scale it back, but now is not the time for that. I don’t need room in my head to examine the contents of this shitty day.
One thing’s for sure—I haven’t learned a damn thing. Not a damned lesson, not a damned bit of insight. Nothing.
These feeling-shivs got me feeling like a voodoo doll.
I try to help people, and I think that I’m making a difference, but nothingnothingnothing will ever make up for what I’ve done. All I do is hurt people, and hurt them in ways that stick with them for years after. I make people doubt themselves, and I empower others to hurt them with my words. I am literally the worst kind of human being, flitting through life as others live with the consequences of my actions.
I’m begging you to please stop asking.
I head back to the gym and go straight for the Corner of Heavy Things, the name painfully ironic, and I aim for the biggest tire we have. Thane isn’t in today, so he can’t give me shit for overdoing it. Unfortunately, there’s a client in the area, and I have to make sure he’s got what he needs. I recognize him as the guy who requested the paper application, but I’ve got no hope of remembering his name. Not that I care about his stupid name; he flirted with Heath on Bear Night.
Not that I’m keeping track.
“Oh, hi there!” I say, pasting on a smile.
He startles at my greeting, then startles again when he turns around. His eyebrows stitch together, and it almost reads like anger, but just as quickly the expression fades from his face. “Uh, hi.”
“Is there anything I can help you with over here?”
Please say no, please say no.
