And then—he winked.
He really fucking winked at me like he knew he rendered me speechless. Like he didn’t just walk straight through a moment most men stumble over. Like I hadn’t just tried to throw a whole grenade at him.
Then he turned and walked right out the kitchen like it was no big deal. I stood there for a full five seconds completely still except for the glass shaking in my hand.
“Did this man just?—”
I shook my head before letting out a quiet, disbelieving laugh.
Because what?
What kind of man hears that and doesn’t flinch?
Doesn’t question?
Doesn’t reduce me to a curiosity or a secret?
He just…accepted it and kept it moving like it wasn’t a problem. Like I wasn’t a freak of nature to figure out. Like I was just—a woman. That moment was huge for me because rarelywas my humanity honored in that way. I tried to convince myself that this man was annoyingly persistent.
Because I didn’t know where to file him after that. He didn’t fit in the boxes I had built for protection. Didn’t move like the men I knew how to guard myself against and that made him dangerous in a completely different way.
So as I’m standing behind this bar now—wiping the same spot for longer than necessary—thinking about Lena. Thinking about what she said. Thinking about him. I realize something I don’t want to admit. Calil didn’t just confuse me. He disrupted me. Our interactions left me wondering I was protecting myself from this man or missing out on something real.
The bar is louder than it needs to be, but not louder than my thoughts tonight. The tips are better than I expected so there’s balance.
A Thursday crowd pretending it’s Friday as laughter spills too easily. Glasses clinking like everyone’s trying to have the best night of their randomly in the middle of the week. I’m filling in tonight for a call out shift I didn’t think twice about taking. When I’m not at Provocateur, I moonlight wherever I’m needed. Local bars, hotel lounges, anywhere my hands can stay busy and my thoughts don’t have to.
Ice.
Pour.
Garnish.
Slide.
Rinse and repeat.
My body is on autopilot while my mind never has the luxury.
Lena’s hospital room keeps replaying in my head. The way she looked at me when she asked that question so calm and steady. It’s like she didn’t realize how dangerous it was.
What if I have enough space in my heart to love you and Calil?
I wipe the bar slower than necessary in this moment and my jaw goes tight. The thought won’t leave. It never does once it takes hold.
The optimism I feel with Calil instantly causes memories of pain creep in before I can stop them.
Damon Jackson.
Mr. Fortune 500 attorney.
We had just finished making love. I could still feel his wet mouth wrapped around my length. Damon loved sucking my dick. His switch flipped from Mr. Macho to my dick sucking slut every time. Not only did he enjoy taking me in his mouth—he also enjoyed taking me in his hole in every position possible. Doggy. Missionary. Reverse cowboy. Any way I could push this thick fuck inside him, Damon would take it.
The room was still warm. The sheets tangled. The air filled quiet after intimacy that tricks you into believing you matter more than you actually do. His arm was loose around my waist and his phone face down on the nightstand like nothing else existed.
For a moment, I let myself believe it.
“Hey,” I said softly, tracing idle circles on his chest. “We still on for this weekend?”
