I try to stand, but he pushes me back down. Not hard, but firm enough that there's no way I'm moving unless he wants me to. It's a level of humiliation I didn't know I'd like so much. It's bigger and heavier than the tremor in my hands or the knot in my guts.
I want to yell at him to back off, but I'm too scared that if I open my mouth I'll just beg for him to hold me.
He reaches for my other hand, and I let go of the arm rest and give it to him freely. After removing its glove too, he squeezes it, but the tremor is there as well.
This is the closest he's been to me since we crossed that line.
He runs his thumb along the back of my hand. "You're done for the day." It's not a question.
I try to protest; "I've got one more," but my voice is weak.
He shakes his head. "No. You're done."
"I'm not."
He leans in so close I can smell the beach and feel his warmth against my cheek. "If you defy me, I'll drag your ass out of here by the hair. Do you understand?"
The intensity in his eyes is a physical force, and my knee-jerk reaction is to want to fight. But this is Carey Novak, and it takes less than a second for my fight reflex to go from taking the power back, to wanting to push him so he makes good on his threat.
"I just need a minute," I whisper.
He puts his hand just above my knee, and squeezes, the dominance sending a spike of heat up my thigh. "You need to stop."
There's a pause, almost like the world has stopped spinning, and I think that perhaps I should just accept defeat. Maybe I can have him and everything I’ve built with his brother won’t come crumbling down. Maybe admitting that I have genuine feelings for him is what will finally kill the ache in my chest. But I don’t deserve either of those things.
One hook up can be pushed aside, Eden will never need to know. But having Carey in the way I know will heal me will break apart every other facet of my life. So, just like I always do, I put everyone else first, force my happiness down even further, and hope that it doesn’t fester into poison and eat me alive from the inside out.
A quiet cough comes from the other side of me.
We both shift our gaze towards Liv. Her face is caught in an expression of wide-eyed wonderment having just witnessed this damn saga play out in real time.
Carey stands, and goes to sit beside her. “I’m really sorry, but he’s just not gonna be able to keep going.”
Her eyes meet mine, and whilst there is clearly a level of frustration, she gets it.
“I’ll refund your deposit and put in the system that you get a discount when you re-book.”
“Don’t worry about the deposit, just keep it on file… I don’t suppose you have any openings between now and New Years?”
“Ahh…” Carey combs his fingers through his hair, stopping midway to scratch his scalp. “It’s kind of a shit show at the moment.”
“Goddamn it, Tek.” With a sigh, Liv stands and approaches me. “You’re lucky I like you so much.” She bends down just enough to look at me properly. I try to stay focused but I can feel my eyeballs twitching. “My god, you really do look like shit. Listen to your secretary and take a break."
I look at him and he raises his eyebrows.
“He’s still not my secretary,” I say, but I can’t drag my eyes away from his face.
As she steps backwards towards the door, Liv shrugs; “But he's still better to look at than any secretary I've ever seen,” then quickly slinks out like she knows she’s stirring shit up.
“The woman’s got good taste.” There’s no emotion detectable in Carey's tone. “Do you think you can walk?”
“My legs aren’t broken.”
His head falls back. “For the love of fuck.” He snatches the—now mostly empty—water bottle from me. “Why does everything have to be such a fucking battle?”
I don’t answer. I’m not sure he wants me to.
“Can you try to stand?”
