I sigh, running my finger through the dust on my windowsill, attempting to shake off the shitty feeling. “What’s the point?” I say with false brightness. “I’ve got the new job to focus on.”
“The one where you’re forced to work for your dad while he takes most of your pay and your soul withers and dies?” Eric quips helpfully.
“Yes. That one.” I resist the urge to roll my eyes. He’s being a little dramatic, but then he’s an out-of-work actor, so he’ll take whatever opportunity he can to ham it up.
Besides, he’s not wrong. I’ve never been a corporate gal, and the idea of working as an assistant at my father’s architecture firm to pay off my loans doesn’t thrill me. I don’t want to spend my days sending emails and making spreadsheets.
Or, you know, whatever it is people do in offices.
But what choice do I have? I owe Dad for my tuition, and I still need to pay my rent. Perhaps I should be grateful for the job—and I guess under any other circumstances I would be—but it’s only adding insult to injury. As if the humiliation of flunking out of college wasn’t enough, I now have to work my debts off at my father’s firm. He won’t even let me do it on my own terms.
Chin up, Cupcake.
Aidan’s words come back to me, and I smile, letting them briefly soothe me. How is it possible that someone I don’t even know can have that effect?
“Let’s talk about something else,” I mumble to Eric, and thankfully, he nods. I guess now would be the perfect time to tell him about my eventful afternoon, but I want to keep it to myself for a little longer. Not because I think Eric will judge me—he’s not like that—but because I want it to be my special, dirty little secret for a while. I don’t want to lose any of the magic. Already I feel it fading, and I’m desperate to cling to it.
To not have to face the state of my life.
Eric and I drink cheap wine and talk for ages before he orders pizza to share while we watchBrooklyn 99, and it’s the distraction I need for the evening.
At ten, Eric pecks me on the cheek and heads back to his place, and I brush my teeth and lay out my boring office clothes ready for tomorrow. I only have one pencil skirt and two suitableblouses, plus a dress or two I could probably wear, but as soon as I’ve saved up some money, I’ll need to buy a few more items.
Then, I climb the loft ladder to my bedroom. Up here it’s even tinier than downstairs, with a low roof that means I have to crawl onto the bed, but there’s enough room for my mattress, covered with its blue waffle-style comforter and pillows, a small crate tipped on its side which functions as my nightstand, and a unit of low shelves along one wall, containing my books and the clothes that don’t fit in the small dresser downstairs. The loft opens to the space below and gets the light and air from my window, so it doesn’t feel nearly as cramped as you’d expect. It’s cozy and, most importantly, it’s mine. I’ve always paid for it with my own money, and no one can take it away from me.
As I flick off the light, my mind drifts to Aidan. I haven’t had a second alone since we were in that restroom, and my body is still restless and buzzing from the way he touched me. The way he took control, his fingers on my clit, his mouth on my neck as he growled,You liked being on your knees for me, huh? You liked having my cock in your mouth?
Heat rockets through me at the memory, and I snake a hand under the covers, finishing what he started.
But as I snuggle down into bed, listening to the sounds of the city, the glow of my orgasm fades. Sure, it was hot hooking up with Aidan, but that’s not my real life.
My real life is the fallout from flunking out of college. The money I owe my dad. The job I start tomorrow.
And even if that gorgeous stranger could make any of that better, I’ll never see him again.
5
AIDAN
Why do I feel like shit?
I slump at my desk, cradling my lukewarm coffee. As usual, I’m the first one in the office, but instead of enjoying the silence like normal, my mind churns with thoughts of yesterday. I got an epic, no-strings-attached blowjob from a gorgeous woman. I should feel like a fucking king.
But since I walked out of that restroom, I’ve felt uneasy. Guilty, almost.
And it’s pissing me off.
What do I have to feel guilty about? The beautiful young woman in Marco’s was any man’s fantasy, and all too eager to please me. I didn’t force her into anything.
So why do I have this nagging sense that I’ve done something wrong?
I pop the lid off my coffee and stare into the dark liquid. I think I know the answer, and it’s messing with my head.
I didn’twantto take from her. I wanted togiveto her, to…
Fuck.
To care for her.
