I reach over to the nightstand to grab my phone and do a quick check of any important messages before resting it back down again.
“So, what would you like to do today?” I ask.
“For starters, I think I should go home and get some fresh clothes. I haven’t changed since leaving the office two days ago.”
“You know, you could always stay here and spend the day with me completely naked in bed all day. After all, we don’t need to be back at work for another two weeks,” I tell him.
“Is everything just about sex and work with you, Liam?”
“Noteverything. But when the occasion calls for it, I take the opportunity. If I hadn’t, you would have slipped through my fingers and some other man would have snagged you from right under my nose.”
“I highly doubt that,” he says, crossing his arms across his chest.
“Why do you do that?” I ask.
“Do what?”
“Constantly put yourself down and speak negatively about yourself.”
He shrugs his shoulders. “I don’t know. I guess it’s because I’ve never truly been respected by anyone except my parents. And I …”
He lowers his head, almost like he’s embarrassed or ashamed of something.
“You what?” I inquire, lifting his chin with my forefinger.
“I’ve never been in love before or for that matter, no one has really ever lovedmebefore.”
God, this man. This delicious, pure, genuine, sweet, innocent man. How the hell did he turn out to be so perfect?
“And? That’s nothing to be embarrassed or ashamed of and also has zero reflection on your ability to please a man. I mean, yesterday was fucking amazing.”
“And while I appreciate you saying that, I can’t help but shake this feeling that maybe you deserve better.”
“Better? Better than what?”
“Better than me.”
That has me straightening the fuck up and turning my entire body to the side so that I’m facing him.
“Liam, you need to stop this. Okay, I’ll admit it hasn’t helped that we’ve been flirting with one another for years. And working in the same office every day without exploring those feelings, has been so damn hard. I get that. But why do you feel like you’re not appreciated?”
“Because I just feel like all I’m good for, for you, is sex.”
Ouch. That stings.
“Okay, stop being such a fucking asshole. Do you think if it was just about sex that you’d be lying here with me, in my bed? In my house?” I ask him.
“There’s still time for you to throw me out.”
“Jesus, Dylan. Now you’re really starting to piss me off. You’re acting like a royal …”
“Prick?” he offers.
“Not exactly what I was going to say, but that’ll suffice.”
Yesterday seems like such a lifetime ago, even though it’s been less than twenty-four hours, and as I stare at the man lying beside me, I can tell that this is really bothering him. As far as I’m concerned there was nothing out of the ordinary about yesterday, and it was obvious that we both wanted it. I mean, he had the opportunity to leave a number of times and he didn’t. So why the hell does this feel like one of those morning after moments where your sexual partner regrets everything that happened?
“I just don’t want to disappoint you, that’s all.”
