Sighing, I stopped in the hallway at the foot of the stairs and leaned against the wall to wait a few minutes, just to make sure Max didn’t fall asleep again. I nodded my head back and bumped my skull. Never in a thousand lifetimes would I have thought I would enjoy helping Max with an enema, or that the process of prepping him would be so intimate or oddly enjoyable.
Sexual.
I liked his ass and his hole, so why wouldn’t I like helping him get it ready for me to fuck? Slowly I shook my head at myself and smiled. It had been a while since I discovered something new that turned me on, but last night had been… special. Glaring at the stairs, I crossed my arms. I heard Max’s door open and went back toward the kitchen to pretend I hadn’t been waiting around like his Daddy to make sure he was doing what he should.
BecauseGod fucking knewI wasn’t his Daddy.
As I entered the kitchen, an awkwardness swamped me while I glanced around at the nicely set table and all the work I’d done. People didn’t do these things for a random fuck, someone they would never sleep with again, and I shouldn’t have either—but I did. My shoulders stiff, I went to the oven and pulled out the food I’d kept in there warming and then dished it out onto the plates. I poured the orange juice into a tall glass for Max, and briefly thought about tipping it down the drain instead, but that would have been a silly waste. I’d already taken the time to squeeze it.
Max shuffled his way into the kitchen and froze, his gaze sweeping across the table as I grasped the back of my chair tightly in my hand. My knuckles hurt, I held the wood so hard.
Max stopped near my elbow and his eyes were wide. “You didn’t have to do this. I’m not that big of a breakfast person.”
Uncomfortable and feeling too hot, I tugged at the collar of my T-shirt and snagged my mug of coffee from the table. With a flourish I pointed to his seat across from mine. “Sit. Eat. I’m going to shower.” I stomped away and downed my coffee before I was even up the stairs, determined not to do this to myself again. He wasn’t even grateful.
But there’d been a small smile on his lips as I turned away from him.
Fuck me.
My morning routine didn’t seem as important with Max in the house. I rushed through my shower, careful not to disturb his arrangement of bottles, and wouldn’t let myself smile over his quirks. He might have an issue that had a potential to cause problems, but it wasn’t difficult to take care not to upset him over something ridiculous like not being mindful of where I’d pulled the shampoo from.
After I dressed in a black suit that fit my mood, black shirt and tie included, I stopped at the playroom. I should have ignored the urge to look in, but Max had been in there last night. I wanted to see the place where I’d lost my mind, try to judge if it was me or something about having been in the playroom that had made me think fucking him was a good idea.
His personal touch was clear in there, too, the rearranged toys capturing my attention. The coffee in my stomach curdled. I’d fucking known better than to cave over some pretty brown eyes, but I’d been so stupid, and I’d done it. I’d had sex with him.
I’denjoyedhim.
Could I really be upset about getting off with him, even if I couldn’t have what I wanted? Like hell I’d have given Max’s first time to Vic. I was so glad that wasn’t an option anymore. The second I’d realized he was a virgin, I’d wanted to be his first, wanted to make sure he had someone who took their time with him and made him as comfortable as possible. He hadn’t had an easy life, his family money notwithstanding, and it didn’t seem like anyone had given him the care he should have had as a matter of course. The door squeaked as I dragged it closed, my stomach sinking. It had been a while since I had anyone in my playroom. He’d fit in there, surrounded by the equipment and toys, the one piece I’d been missing without realizing it. I twisted the doorknob back and forth, already missing something that hadn’t even started.
And I’d known better than to get attachedthe whole fucking time.
At least he was staying here. I could keep an eye on him and help him navigate his life, get him on track, maybe even help him out of Vane’s office in a way that would benefit him while still satisfying Vane that he’d left.
Now I was going to try to play double agent?
No, I wouldn’t do that.
But I stood there outside the door for too long, thinking about ways I might be able to make everyone happy in this obnoxious situation—everyone who wasn’t me, at any rate. I didn’t want Vane to be disappointed, either.
Max came up the stairs and stilled when our gazes met. His face flushed slightly, and he ducked his head as he scooted into the bathroom. I continued downstairs and was satisfied he’d eaten something and drank the juice. I threw my own breakfast away because I couldn’t stand the thought of food and then cleaned up the kitchen.
Once he was ready to leave for the day, I met him in the hallway, and I had no idea what to say to him as I gathered my things and prepared to go get in the SUV, so I didn’t say a word. He gave me a faltering smile and followed me out, closing the door behind him.
The radio was too loud on the drive into New Gothenburg on dark, snow-drifted roads. Pop music set my teeth on edge, but I didn’t turn it off. The ice that slicked the road black made me concentrate, which was nice because the fight with the steering wheel blanked out my overactive mind.
Max fidgeted roughly every thirty seconds. His knee bounced. He brushed his fingers through his hair. Wiped the back of his hand over his mouth. Tugged at his coat buttons. His hands were never still long. Something was off with him, and I resolved to ignore it.
But then he frowned and stared at his hands clasped in his lap, as if he’d done something wrong, and my willpower blew away like a puff of smoke up a chimney. I let it go until we were downtown, but then my control snapped.
“Did you hear back from the second professor? Get an email?” I asked while I fought the traffic through downtown until I made it to the small parking lot at city hall. I let out a breath of relief and eased into a spot near the front door. The only other car in the lot was his, or so I assumed, since it was completely covered in snow.
“Not yet, no.”
Then why are you so nervous?I didn’t ask. Was he always nervous before work? My hands curled harder on the steering wheel.
“Keep me posted,” I murmured.
He nodded.
