“I’m not sure what you mean,” I said. I felt like the world’s shittiest friend for keeping secrets from her, but I really did plan to fill her in once everything didn’t feel so confusing and delicate. My biggest concern was that it wasn’t only my secret. Dominic stood to lose just as much as I did–if not more–from anyone discovering what we did on that roof.

  Elizabeth frowned and crossed her arms. She jabbed a finger at me after a moment of thought. “If I find out you two are fucking, ohh girl.” She pulled her head back, shaking it menacingly. “I will be so mad at you and I might not talk to you for at least a week–after you tell me everything, that is.”

  I grinned. “If there was anything to tell, you know I would tell it to you when the time was right.”

  Her eyebrows shot up. “When the time was right? What does that mean? Does that mean there’s something to tell but you’re not telling it yet?”

  Farhad must’ve seen us talking because he appeared at Elizabeth’s side. “Is this person bothering you?” He asked. I was surprised to see his initial annoyance at being assigned to work on politics had faded. Lately, Farhad seemed downright cheerful. I’d even seen him leaving the office with Kirk for drinks after work a few times. The two had become fast friends, and they were always talking excitedly about whatever piece they were writing at the moment.

  “Yes,” I said. “I have less than an hour to finish this and somebody is dick digging.”

  Farhad sputtered with laughter and Elizabeth grinned.

  “Dick digging?” he asked.

  “Yes. She is trying to pry into my mind and find out if I’ve had any close encounters of the scrotal kind. And I have not. I’ve been a diligent, focused employee who has been hard at work on her assignments. Nothing else.”

  Farhad and Elizabeth shared a look. He nodded. “Yeah, she’s lying.”

  I threw up my hands in frustration. “Why won’t anyone just believe me?”

  “Because I’m now dick digging, too,” Farhad said. “And I had to move like one grain of dirt to find evidence of a massive dick in your past.”

  “Yeah,” Elizabeth said loudly, leaning in and poking my chest. “Who does it belong to, Darcy? Hmm? Does this dick happen to have a fondness for nice suits and sexy little vests, perhaps?”

  “Both of you, leave me alone. I seriously have work to do.”

  My phone was on my desk and it buzzed. It was a text from Charleston at the worst possible time, and both Farhad and Elizabeth’s eyes went straight to the preview.

  Charleston: How did your date with Mr. Big Dick Boss go? Did you get lu…

  I slapped my hand over the phone, covering the text even though I knew it was too late.

  Elizabeth folded her arms and shook her head at me like a disappointed mother. “Unbelievable. So you tell some friends about your sexual conquests, but not all of them? Is that how this works? Do we need to pay a subscription service to be Tier 1 friends, Darcy? Are we not good enough for you?”

  I couldn’t help grinning. She was mostly messing with me, but I knew there was a grain of real hurt underneath the jokes.

  “Guys, look. If something happened between me and someone at work, it would be pretty reckless of me to go talking about it. Especially at work, right?”

  The two of them shared another look.

  “But if I was going to tell anybody anything, it’d be you, Elizabeth. And maybe you, Farhad.”

  “The fuck?” He muttered to nobody in particular.

  Elizabeth ignored him and leaned in, hugging me. She put her mouth to my ear and whispered. “Blink if you hooked up with Mr. Lockwood.” She pulled back, gripping both shoulders and staring intently into my eyes.

  Like a normal human being, I blinked. She fist pumped victoriously, winked at me, and yanked Farhad away from my desk by the arm.

  “Maybe you?” He said quietly as he left, shaking his head.

  I was smiling to myself until I remembered I still had twenty pages to review and a vanishingly small time to do it. My smile completely faded when I remembered the last words Dominic had said on that roof. He’d said it didn’t mean anything. Of course, I’d been stupidly hearing wedding bells while I was sucking his cock because I was delusional and way too quick to get attached when I got physical with people.

  I mean, wasn’t putting someone’s penis in your mouth a pretty big step? Personally, if I had to draw a roadmap from dating to marriage, there would be at least one dick in a mouth along the way. Maybe toss a romantic foot rub in there for good measure and boom. It was a clear-cut path to marriage and happily ever after. So what the hell did he mean with what he said to Marcus? A dumb mistake? I didn’t know about him, but I’d never ended up with a penis in my mouth by mistake.

  I wanted to march right to his office and demand he explain exactly what I was to him. But I couldn’t ask without making things more weird than they already were. If he’d really meant what he said, I’d be making it obvious that I was hoping he didn’t mean any of that. I had to play it cool, which wasn’t exactly my specialty. I was about as cool as the bag of shrimp I got last week with my groceries and forgot about on the counter with the bread for two days until my whole apartment smelled like death.

  All I could do was look inside and ask myself how I felt about this. Did I want Dominic to think what we did was just fooling around? Just a little lipstick on the boss’ dipstick?

  If there really were no feelings involved, that was kind of good, right? Because that brief experience on the roof had easily been a peak life experience, and he’d barely even got his hands on me. I knew with every fiber of my being that I wanted more. I didn’t even know if it mattered how I got it, but I was not going to die happy and satisfied if I didn’t at least get that orgasm he owed me.

  The part I didn’t understand was whether I wanted it to be a no strings sort of deal. If there were no strings, then there was nothing to get tangled up in. We could have our fun and go on with our lives mostly as usual. But what if I wanted a string or two? Strings were kinda fun, weren’t they? At least cats seem to think so.

  I rubbed my eyes and tried to remind myself to stop getting distracted. I needed to finish this editing pass because I didn’t want to send Dominic something with even a single typo. I wanted to prove to him that I could do more than just the average piece. Maybe then he’d reconsider blowing off my pitch, because no matter what he said, I was absolutely not giving up on that one. I knew it would be good for the magazine, even if his stubborn ass wanted to pretend otherwise.

  I stole a glance in the direction of his office. His blinds were open, as usual. Tristan and Marcus were in there and the three of them were all standing and gesturing like they were having some kind of argument. Dominic looked especially pissed.

  I chewed the end of a pencil, watching and wondering what the hell that was about. My chest went cold when I considered the possibility that it could be about what Marcus had seen on the roof. But Dominic said we could trust him to keep quiet, didn’t he?

  If it wasn’t about us, what had them all so upset?

  21

  DOMINIC

  Darcy crossed a new line last night. I’d been avoiding her ever since our encounter on the roof at Ally’s party, but last night she sent a text. It was just two emojis and a question mark. The first was what I assumed was a raindrop and the second was a check followed by a question mark.

  Rain check?

  Just looking at the text had made me instantly hard. I knew exactly what she wanted and I doubted she knew just how badly I wanted to give it to her. But things had changed, and I couldn’t afford to let things between us go any further than they already had.

  I laced up my shoes a little too tight and rolled my neck, working out the morning stiffness. It was Saturday and I planned to work for most of the day, but I needed a run to clear my head. I left my apartment and walked to the park, cycling songs on my phone until I found a playlist that felt right.

  It was a misty, cold morning. The air felt wet and clingy and I could barely see the sky between the towering buildings all around. New York always felt like home to me because nobody here was ever satisfied. There was a sense of it in the air. Everybody moved with a kind of frenetic urgency, as if the thing they were chasing was always just out of reach, but they were going to try anyway.

  I could relate to that feeling, except I usually felt like that thing I wanted so badly was to finally separate myself from my father in every way possible. I wanted my own business, my own success, and I didn’t want to feel like my father could slip his bony fingers into my life at any moment. But lately, I spent far more of my time thinking about Darcy–about how I wished I could simply take her and have her like I wanted. I wanted to wave my hands and erase all the fog of uncertainty around the two of us–for the correct move to be reaching out and taking what should’ve been mine.

  I started my jog early, weaving around the foot traffic. My feet pounded the pavement and each step helped focus my mind like drum beats.

  I was well into the process of turning my brain off when I crossed the street into the park and headed down my usual trail. I passed a few dog walkers and a large group of seniors speed walking. Then I saw a small woman from the corner of my eye coming toward me at slow speeds with high effort. Her arms were pumping and her short legs churned, but it seemed like she was moving in slow motion despite her efforts.

  My pace faltered and I turned my head to look.

  What. The. Fuck.

  Darcy McClain came jogging up beside me in workout clothes. She had on pastel blue leggings and a pink top that bared her shoulders and a distracting amount of cleavage. Her short hair was pulled up in a tiny knot on top. She pulled out an earbud and looked up at me. We were still running. If I moved any slower, I would’ve had to break into a walk, but Darcy looked like she was at her top speed.

  “What the hell are you doing?” I asked.

  “Going for my morning run. What does it look like?” Darcy had to pant each word out between heavy breaths.

  “I mean why are you doing this again? I thought you would give up after that last excuse for a run.”

  “Haven’t you realized I don’t give up that easily?”

  “Maybe you should learn to.”

  Darcy looked like she was about to die. If she’d worked on her conditioning since the last time she ambushed me on a run, it wasn’t evident. She was pumping her arms wildly, head lolling and eyes wild. Sweat was pouring from her hairline and soaking her sports bra. “Fat chance. Bosshole.” She breathed each word with effort, then tried to wink but looked more like she was wincing.

  I grinned. “How far have you run?”

  “Um,” she gasped. Her face was screwing up now and she started to hobble, losing speed. “How far do you think it is from that bench back there to here?”

  She stopped completely, bending over and clutching her knees. “God,” she said. “Why do you run so fast? Do you actually enjoy this?”

  All I wanted was to stop and stay with her. I wanted to take her back to my place and give her the orgasm I owed her. I wanted it all badly enough it fucking hurt, but I knew what was coming. I knew I couldn’t afford that, not without risking everything.

  I slowed my pace, jogging in place while she sucked in air. “It helps to clear my mind.”

  “From what? Work?”

  From you. “Something like that,” I said.

  “Have you ever heard of meditation? Ice cream?” She put her hands on her hips and leaned back, drawing in more heavy gulps of air and shaking her head. “This is just ridiculous. It’s torture.”

  “Why are you here, McClain?”

  She held up her palms. “A good interviewer gets inside her subject’s head. I thought maybe if I understood what you’re about outside work, I would get a new angle.”

  “Have you?” I waited, one eyebrow arched.

  “Yes. You’re a glutton for punishment. Sadistic. Or maybe trying to atone for some kind of past, present, or future sins. Maybe all three.”

  “Hm. Interesting theory. Guess you’ll need to keep training if you want to catch up and get answers.” I waited until my back was turned to grin. I jogged away from her, feeling like an asshole. I was an asshole. But what did she expect? The entire reason I’d come out for this jog in the first place was to get Darcy off my mind. And of course, The Squawker’s number one employee was working overtime to nail her interview with me. Worse, it was endearing how hard she was trying. I didn’t need to feel like anything about Darcy was endearing, adorable, sexy, or anything but adequate.

  My mind was racing as I ran around the path. I took my favorite route and put a few miles behind me. By the time I was coming back up on where I started, I was getting tired and starting to finally turn off my thoughts. But then I saw her again. She was right where I’d left her, sitting on the ground with her hands over her knees. She hopped to her feet when I came around the bend and started jogging in place.

  I rolled my eyes, but couldn’t help grinning at the look of pure determination on her face. I even slowed my pace as much as I could without making it obvious. She sprinted into motion and came up at my side. “Thought you lost me, huh?” she asked.

  “You should stop before you pull something, McClain.”

  “Nope. Not until you tell me if I was right. Do you run like this because of guilt? Are you running from–” she veered off the path and her toe caught on a large tree root. One moment, she was beside me. The next, She was spinning and failing her arms in a rolling fall.

  She fell hard and let out a grunt of pain.

  “Fuck,” I hissed, stopping and kneeling to help ease her back off the ground.

  Darcy looked at her ankle and winced, rolling it gingerly then sucking in a quick breath. “Ow,” she said.

  Somehow, from her three little fifty yard sprints, she was soaked with sweat just like I was. Our skin felt burning hot where it touched. “Let me look,” I said.

  “Do you have medical experience?” she asked. Even when she was in pain, Darcy was still a smart ass. “It could be broken. Fractured. Contused?”

  “That’s not how you use the word contusion. And I seriously doubt it’s any of those. I think you just rolled it, which I’ve done to my ankle before.” I bent her knee gently and looked at the ankle. It was already swelling a little.

  “How does it look, Doctor Grump?”

  I glared at her. “It looks like it’ll probably be a little sore but you’ll live. But I think this should be your sign to retire from sprinting.”

  “I wasn’t sprinting. I was jogging.”

  “Yeah, no more sprints for you today,” I said. “I’ll call you a cab.”

  “I don’t like cabs. I watched a documentary once about this cab driver who drove people to his creepy chop shop by night and sold their meat by day to unsuspecting people on the street from his hotdog stand.”

  I stared. “Good thing it’s not night, then. We’ll just skip my usual post run hotdog.”

  She folded her arms, which had the distracting effect of pushing her breasts up. “Ha. Very funny, Dominic. But I’m not riding in a cab. They’re creepy.”

  “What do you suggest?” I asked. “You want me to call an ambulance? Or do you not ride in those, either?”

  I’m not taking an ambulance for a rolled ankle. She got up, wincing as she put weight on her foot. “See? I’m fine.”

  Instinctively, I reached out and put an arm around her, holding her up and helping keep her off the foot. “Alright, how far is your place from here?”

  “Far,” she said. “Trying to pin you down for these jog attacks is actually pretty damn inconvenient. I had to take a bus. I hate busses.”

  “Then I can take you to my place and get you some ice for your ankle. Once you’re good to walk on your own, you can head home, or I can drive you, assuming you haven’t developed some kind of phobia of riding with your boss since our ice cream date.”

  She grinned, shaking her head. “I wouldn’t mind riding you. With you,” she added quickly, cheeks going bright red.

  I pretended not to hear as I took more of her weight against me and started leading her toward the park exit.

  “So is this how you operate, Mr. Lockwood?” she asked while we walked. “Is this one of your seduction tactics? Wound your prey and then they have no choice but to go back to your sex cave?”

  “Darcy… you’re the one who decided to act crazy and sprint after me. I’m just trying to do the right thing here.”

  “If you’re so concerned with doing the right thing, why have you been avoiding me all week? I know you saw my text yesterday, too. So why are you ignoring me?”

  There it was. I clenched my jaw, searching for the right words. “Come on. Let’s get you out of this fucking park.”

  “To be continued,” Darcy whispered.

  “What?” I asked as I helped her up from the ground and guided her hand around my back.

  “Nothing.”

  22

  DARCY

  Dominic didn’t live in a sex cave. It was more like a sex palace. His apartment from the lobby to the elevator and all the way down to his massive double front doors just screamed “money”. And right after the scream of money left your ears ringing, a thousand little voices whispered “sex” all hot and heavy in your ears. It was the sort of place that probably made women throw their panties on their coat rack as soon as they came in and go lay in wait on his bed.

  But it took more than money to get my panties off.

  He helped me inside and I was relieved to finally get a chance to sit on the couch after hobbling with him for four or five blocks. I’d let myself be distracted from the throb in my ankle by all the envious looks I’d drawn on the street. Just about every woman with a pulse had looked at me like they would’ve chopped off at least a pinky toe to be in my place. If only they knew how frustrating and confusing the man was, maybe they wouldn’t have been so desperate.

 

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