“Come on. This way.”
“All right, then,” he said, and there was something off about his tone, but I didn’t stop to dwell on it. I practically ran to the elevators like the hounds of hell were after me, but in reality, it was probably only a fast walk. We were down to the first floor, across the street, and in the elevator to my apartment before I even knew what was happening. The glass-and-chrome elevator was on the outside of the building. The mini skyscraper was the most expensive one downtown, and everything in it was designed to shock a little. I couldn’t afford one of the really nice places, just had a cheap one about halfway up, but Jayce still let out an impressed noise when the elevator door opened. We stepped out onto the plush white carpeting of the hallway, which was kept spotless, like everything else in the building. He followed me to my door.
“You only have one neighbor on your floor?”
“Yeah.”
I opened the door and let us in. The living room was austere. That’s what I thought of it as—minimalist. Really, I just hadn’t had the energy to decorate a space I was barely in, beyond the basics the designer installed when I first bought the place. There was a leather couch, a TV on the wall across the way, a gas fireplace to the left of that, and a stretch of floor-to-ceiling windows let me and my guests take in the not-so-impressive cityscape. It was not New York City, anyway. Paxton made all the right noises, though, when he went over to investigate the view. I flopped onto the couch and sighed, dropping the bag of food to the floor beside me. The smell of meat and grease—maybe some good burgers—wafted around the room.
“Nice.”
“I guess.”
He turned around with his hands in his pockets, and he looked so good in his uniform my stomach clenched and my dick sang awake. It seemed like I spent most of my time near him hard these days, and I fucking loved it, but right now…. I bit at my knuckle as I watched him assessing my living space. Judging me. Was this good enough? Too much?
“Lamb, do you not want me here?”
“I think I do. Fuck, I do. Yes. I’m just used to being alone.”
“You mean, you can normally be yourself here?”
Holding my breath, I nodded.
“You don’t have to pretend with me, no matter where we’re at. Why isn’t there much furniture?”
I shrugged and sort of slithered to the floor. Immediately I felt more comfortable. The windows sometimes freaked me out a little bit because they were so open, and I liked being closer to the floor most of the time anyway.
“I think… the last few weeks have proven to me something I already knew,” I mumbled.
“What’s that?” He had a look on his face like he was proud of me, and I glanced away.
“I’m tired of being River Demchenko, attorney-at-law.”
“You want to be River, the man who is taken care of by his boyfriend?”
“That has a nice ring to it.”
“River, the sub who belongs to his Sir?”
“Even better,” I whispered and glanced up at him, hoping I didn’t look too pathetic.
“Wish granted.” He walked with precise steps toward me and I sucked in a deep breath. “There are rules, though.”
At that I perked up. “Rules?”
“One, you tell me when you’re feeling bad, like you were last night. I’ll let you know what kind of bad you’re feeling. Whether it needs me to hold you or fuck you. Or something else entirely. No more keeping things in, River. It only makes you sass me.”
“Is that always bad?”
“No, but it’s bad when you don’t want to be doing that and you are anyway.”
I hung my head as heat crawled up my body and something worse than embarrassment twisted in my gut.
He sat on the couch close enough beside me that his knee pressed against my shoulder. “Come here, Lamb,” he said and pointed between his legs. I sighed and crawled over to settle there. Between the two of us, he worked off my suit coat and tie and then began to knead my tight shoulders.
“What do you think?” I asked after a while, when whatever the hell had been eating at me all day had been worked out of my muscles.
“About?”
