“Does he make you feel this way?” he asks, a tightness to his voice that makes me look at him even in the midst of this unimaginable pleasure. “Has he seen you when you come? Seen how beautiful you are when you fall apart? Or do you make him fuck you in the dark, too?”
I squirm free, dropping my leg and pushing away, stumbling over to the counter and leaning there, head dropped forward so my hair hides my heated cheeks.
“Don’t talk about him.” I turn a serious stare on him, ignoring my body’s unfulfilled needs. “You may have seen me first and had me first, but Zo’s been my best friend for a long time. That means something to me. He’s like family, and as much as I want you, and I admit I do, I don’t want to hurt him.”
He walks over, and I flinch when he touches my face because I know how frail my guard is. I could go up in flames again if he wants me to. With just one touch.
“Then you have some tough decisions to make, and you should make them soon.” He bends to drop a soft kiss on my nose. “Because I won’t give up until you’re completely mine, Banner, and I won’t wait much longer.”
19
Banner
“Girl, you better eat. All work and no food does the body no good.”
Quinn designed the app to alert you if no food has been recorded at certain pre-programmed intervals. Now that I understand my body better than I did before, I usually eat several small meals instead of three large ones. Or worse, skipping breakfast and loading up only twice a day. I work out hard and need to fuel and burn all day. Sometimes I simply forget to record what I eat, but today, the app is right. I haven’t left this laptop in hours. I reach across the desk to buzz my assistant.
“Maali, could you grab me a salad from that place up the street?”
Instead of answering, she appears in my doorway. Her inky black hair swishes at her chin in a bob, and her dark eyes mirror concern.
“Sure.” She approaches my desk. “It’s almost quitting time. I’ll go grab the food before I go. The usual?”
“Yeah,” I answer distractedly, scanning the first draft of Zo’s new contract. “Dammit. Lowell is not making this easy.”
“Still holding out?” She props one hip against my desk.
“I think he considers this meeting me halfway, but he’s in for a rude awakening.” I close my laptop with a snap. “Max or we walk.”
“And does Zo have other options?” Hesitation shadows her delicate features. “He did seem to drop off there at the end?”
I shoot her a sharp glance, and she rushes to fix it.
“I’m just saying he was doing so well all season and then seemed out of gas at the end.”
“That happens to lots of guys,” I remind her, trying to keep my voice free of defensiveness. “Zo is in season number ten, not two, so maybe it was typical wear and tear. I have every confidence that he’ll be back to his usual level of performance when the new season starts. He’s an elite athlete, one of the best we’ve seen, and he deserves supermax.”
I open my laptop and start an email to politely, but firmly, tell the Titans front office where they can insert their underwhelming offer.
“Of course,” Maali says, not looking as sure as I am. “I’ll be back with your salad.”
She walks out, only to pop her head back in a few seconds later.
“Oh, and Cal’s in the building.” With a glance, she commiserates with me. “Don’t shoot the messenger.”
“You’re safe,” I say with half a smile before returning my attention to the email. “Thanks for the heads-up.”
Through the years, Cal and I have brokered an understanding. He stays out of my way and doesn’t expect me to behave like the rest of the assholes who work for him, and I bring him clients. Lots of clients. Lots of business. Lots of money. He gave me the LA office to manage because he’s afraid I’ll branch off and start my own agency. One day I will, but that is a massive undertak
ing I don’t want right now. I’m settling into a new city. I have more clients than any other agent at Bagley, and they’re as loyal to me as I am to them. When I do leave, I know they’ll follow me out the door. Cal knows that, too, and usually bends over backward to keep me happy, but still feels the need to reassert himself as my “boss” every once in a while, remind me whose name is on the letterhead. He’s been in LA for a week making sure things are going well with the new branch, which they are. If he’s in the building that means at some point, he’ll be in my office.
I’m making progress on a marketing plan for Lamont Christopher, the rookie I “blocked” with Jared when my cell rings. I’m so tempted not to answer, but a glance at the screen shows me it’s Zo. He’s in another time zone, and with our busy schedules, it’s been hard to really connect. Guilt knots my stomach and my palms actually start sweating. When he comes back, I have to tell him about what has happened with Jared. We haven’t had sex, but what we have done is unacceptable. I pray he forgives me, but I’m still not sure we need to continue forward as we have been, irrespective of Jared.
“Hola,” I answer, forcing a smile into my voice.
“Hola, Bannini,” he says, using the name reserved for family. “Te echo de menos.”
“I miss you, too,” I reply in Spanish, as we conduct most of our private conversations. “How are things at the orphanage?”