Seven stared at his hands. “No. Not unless you want to.”
“I wouldn’t, not even if I wanted to,” Enzo said.
“Why?”
Enzo frowned. “Why what?”
“Why do you want to? You don’t leave little gifts for all our other co-workers.”
“You’re not just a co-worker,” Enzo said. “You know that.”
“Then what am I?” Seven challenged.
Enzo thought about it before carefully asking, “What do you want to be?”
“Not some contractually obligated sugar baby,” Seven spat. “If that’s what you’re hoping for.”
That wasn’t what he was hoping for. Fuck. That was the problem. He just hated that Seven was mad at him, hated that he’d disappointed him, hated that he’d hurt his feelings.
Seven didn’t deserve any of that.
“What do you think would have happened between us if I hadn’t brought up the contract?” he murmured.
Seven shrugged, still unwilling to meet his gaze. “We probably would have hooked up again.”
Heat shot through him. “And then what?”
“And then what,what?” Seven asked, glancing at him and then looking away again, like he couldn’t meet his gaze for too long. “I don’t know what. Both times I reached out to you, I was having a really bad week. I was just looking for a distraction. A way to forget about shit for a while. I didn’t realize you were doing some kind of charity work that first night.”
“What?” Enzo asked, choking on the word. “What the fuck does that mean? Charity work?”
Enzo’s heart shattered into a million pieces when Seven shook his head softly and said, “I thought we had a good night.”
“We did. It was an amazing night,” Enzo said.
“Then why did you tell me I hadn’t earned the right to call you Daddy? Why did you tell me you needed totrain me? Why did you act like I had to earn a spot in your bed?” Seven asked, the words thick, like he was forcing them out past the lump in his throat.
“Because,” Enzo started, then sighed, deflating. “Because I’m a fucking asshole.”
Seven’s head jerked up. “What?”
Enzo shook his head as he contemplated what he wanted to say without trying to make it sound like he was making excuses or blaming Seven somehow. It was on the tip of his tongue to tell him he was just playing out a scene, that he thought Seven was more experienced with BDSM than he was. All of that was true, but it didn’t negate the fact that Enzo had tried to play with him without any conversation in place. He’d started in the middle and then somehow expected Seven to follow along.
“I was playing out a—” He stopped short. Fuck, Vince was right. He was a coward. “Do you want the truth? The real truth?”
Seven looked at him like he was an idiot. “Duh.”
Enzo hesitated for a moment, scrubbing his hands over his face before he looked at Seven. “I was trying to have my cake and eat it, too.”
Seven glanced up and then away again. “Uh, explain?”
How the fuck was he supposed to explain this without stripping himself bare? Without admitting how fucking pathetic he was? “I wanted to see you again.”
“I wanted to see you, too? So, what was the problem?”
Enzo sighed. “I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about you since that night. I still can’t stop thinking about you if I’m being honest. But I knew that if I let you come over again, I was going to have a hard time letting you go. So, I was an asshole. I thought if I was…crass enough and cold enough, maybe you’d agree, and I could still get to see you but on my terms. Where it was safe.”
Seven was quiet for a few seconds before he asked, “Are you saying that you don’t think I need training? That I wasn’t too much of a brat? That you would have let me call you Daddy?”
