Taunt Me (Rough Love 2)

It didn’t.

“Jesus, Chere.” Andrew sprawled on my couch, a pizza box balanced on his chest. “He’s not giving up, huh? He wants to get inside you.”

I reached for another piece of pizza. “He wants this extreme sexual relationship,” I said. “Even when we’re talking about stuff like metal composition and architectural casting, the sex vibe is pouring off him. It oozes out of him. When I come home, I feel like I have to shower it off me.”

“You’re supposed to be having your final internship, not showering off mental jizz.”

“Psychological bukkake,” I murmured. “It’s starting to get to me.”

That was a lie. Price had gotten to me long, long ago, but I kept going back for more, skirting the line of my own destruction.

“He messed me up so bad before,” I said to my friend. “I can’t start up with him again, right?”

“No. You definitely can’t.” Andrew shoved another piece of pizza in his mouth. “I love you, babes. I don’t want you to get hurt again. You don’t need him, and no matter how much he pushes the sex thing, he doesn’t need you.”

Shit. No. He didn’t need me. He had money and success and everything going for him, and if I didn’t eventually sleep with him, he’d move on to someone else. The thought of that made a sick feeling tremble in my stomach. I put down my pizza and pushed away my plate.

“Tell me about your gallery,” I said, to get my mind off my mentor. “Tell me—”

“Don’t change the subject yet. Are you going to be able to resist Price?”

“I kind of have to.”

“You have to, or you’re going to? What happens if he disappears again?” he lectured. “What happens when your internship is over?”

“I’m trying to keep a distance between us. A space. That’s what I asked for, pure professionalism.”

“If he was giving you pure professionalism, you wouldn’t be showering off mental jizz. I’ve met lots of hot guys during my internship, and there’s been absolutely no jizz involved.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

Andrew shrugged, looking out my living room window at the rain. It was a cold, drizzly Saturday, one of the rare Saturdays when Andrew didn’t have a date and I wasn’t haunting the metals lab. Cantor had caught me there last weekend and grilled me about my internship. It was the most uncomfortable conversation of my life. I could have sworn he was trying to warn me about Price—like I didn’t know the danger.

“Tell me about your gallery internship,” I said, trying again to turn the conversation from my object of obsession. “Tell me about this guy you met.”

Andrew went from looking stressed to totally blissed out. “Craig.”

“Craig. Ooh. What a strong name. Is he strong like an animal?”

Andrew hardly needed egging on. “Yes. Kind of,” he said, sitting up straighter. “I see hints of animal in him. He’s just a gallery manager now, but he’s ambitious, and he’s a talker, and Jesus, he’s so Dom.”

“Yum.”

“He’s very calm and very kind. Authoritative, but in a good way.”

“How old is he?”

“Ten years older than me. And so much wiser.” He gave a wistful sigh. “He’s flirted with me, more than once, but I don’t know if it’s real interest or just some game to him, you know, mindfucking the new intern.”

“I didn’t know mindfucking interns was such a thing.”

“You should know, sister. Anywaaaay.”

I leaned my head back against the cushions. I liked Craig already, because he wasn’t an escort client. “My advice is to keep it professional with this Craig dude until the internship is over, and then see where it leads. Even if things don’t work out, he’ll be a contact, maybe with enough influence to get you a show someday.”

“He’s talked to me about my work.” He got all fluttery again. “I showed him a few paintings on my phone. He says he’d like to see them in person.”

“Take him to the paint lab at night, put on the music, the whole deal.”

“I know. It’ll happen.” He clutched at his chest. “I’m just kind of freaked out. I really like him. It’s scary, how much I like him.” He let go of his chest and carried the pizza box into the kitchen, and tossed it on the counter with a pensive look. “Craig doesn’t know anything about the escorting. I mean, of course he doesn’t know. If he knew… I don’t know. I don’t want to keep secrets, but I don’t want to tell him either.”

I watched the conflict play across my friend’s angelic face.

“You can stop the escorting anytime,” I said. “And you don’t have to tell anyone. You’re the only one of my friends right now who knows I used to do it.”

He sighed and hunched up his shoulders. “But I know I would end up telling him. If I fell in love with him, I’d spill everything. Especially if we were Dom/sub.”