Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 111443 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 557(@200wpm)___ 446(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111443 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 557(@200wpm)___ 446(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
I collapsed over Seb, wrapping him in a bear hug as I poured my load into the condom, shaking like a leaf. It took me a full minute to catch my breath before I realized he was talking.
“What’d you say?”
“You have to get off me,” Seb replied in a faraway tone.
“Right. Sorry.”
I pulled out and shuffled to the Kleenex box at the end of the desk. I rolled the spent condom off, tied it, and wrapped it in tissue.
“The bathroom is to the left of that sofa,” he said, bending to gather his trousers as he straightened.
“Stay where you are. I’ll help you clean up.”
“Thanks, but I got this.”
I rolled my eyes, plucking a few tissues from the box. I handed a couple over to Seb. “Fine. Wipe your own ass,” I snarked.
He chuckled. “I will. Go on. Use the bathroom and then…I have a conference call and—”
“Got it. Um…” I cleaned myself up, leaving the wad of tissue on his desk to pull up my boxer briefs and jeans. “I’m not sure how this good-bye works. Same as the last one, eh?”
Seb buttoned his shirt and met my gaze. “Trent, I can’t—”
“Let me stop you right there. I don’t expect anything from you.”
“Nothing at all?”
“No, I came by ’cause I thought you should know that you pissed me off.”
“And?”
“And…unless I can come up with a good reason not to, I may take Charlie up on his offer,” I admitted sheepishly.
“You’d be a fool not to,” Seb replied.
Buzz, buzz.
“Pardon the interruption, Mr. Rourke. Your call with Jack Kellison from finance is scheduled to begin in three minutes. Mr. Kellison and his team are on the line now.”
“Got it. Thanks, Trish.”
I took the hint and followed Seb to the bathroom to finish cleaning up. I washed my hands and dried them, watching him in the mirror as he tucked his shirt into his trousers. He was magnificent. Regal, aristocratic, intimidating…and yet, he exuded a warmth and casual sort of kindness at the same time. Everything was on the surface with him, woven into a mercurial mix of good and naughty, friend and cutthroat dealmaker. He could be painfully honest one moment and tell a silly white lie the next.
I wasn’t supposed to get this close to him. I was his mistake and his son was “dealing with me.” Yes, I resented that Charlie’s offer was too good to pass up, ’cause after what we’d just done, I knew my brain would subconsciously anticipate the next time I’d see Seb. Or…to be more specific, the next time we’d be naked and horizontal. Vertical was good too, though.
But it wasn’t going to happen.
“Your collar is crooked,” I commented when he stepped away from the marble basin to inspect his reflection.
Seb straightened his collar, turning to face me. “Thank you. I’m sorry I—”
“No, don’t say anything you don’t mean. There’s no reason to lie.” I zipped my jacket and angled my chin. “I’ll let myself out.”
He followed me through the movie-screening section of his office to what passed as a foyer. He had this intense look on his face, as though he wanted to say something more but wasn’t sure where to begin. Or maybe this was where he expected me to make demands, which made me feel ashamed that I’d thought of a counteroffer. That was so not me. I didn’t know how to play these games.
“Look, I—”
“Mr. Rourke?” Trish called from the intercom.
“I’ll be right there.” Seb crossed his arms and leaned against the wall beside a modern art piece with manic brushstrokes and a riot of dizzying colors that vaguely reminded me of him. “I’m glad you came by today, Trent. This is one of those rare times I wish things were different, but…”
“But they aren’t. Good luck, Seb.”
“You too.”
His careful mask slipped a notch and for the briefest of moments, I saw the real Sebastian Rourke. He’d meant what he said. If life were different, this might have been a beginning instead of a good-bye.
Sure, it would have been complicated and we probably would have run into all the familiar roadblocks that come with an age gap, kids from previous relationships, and my general lack of success. Maybe we would have fizzled out after a month of wild sex. Maybe two.
Bottom line…we never stood a chance. And we never would.
“I figured out the FaceTime.”
“So I see. Good job, Dad.” I shifted on the sofa and repositioned my iPad to give my father a thumbs-up. “Where’s Ma?”
“She’s with your sisters. It’s just me and the Phillies. God, they break my damn heart. Are you lookin’ at this score?”
My dad swung his phone toward the TV in the den so fast I got whiplash from three thousand miles away. “They put the rookie pitcher on in the sixth with two men on base. What’re they thinkin’? I could do betta coachin’.”