Headstrong Like Us (Like Us 6)

He watches me intensely, and he realizes that his hope isn’t coming true. “Fuck.”

“I remember Kaden,” I start, “because it’d be hard to forget the first time I tried to bottom.”

His nose flares, and his gaze drags across the wall, as though hunting through memories. His face twists through a series of emotions. Anger surfaces the most. He glares past me. At the door, where I’m betting Kaden is the target of his wrath.

He inhales a rough breath, then looks at me. “How are you feeling, seeing him?”

I grimace, shaking my head. “I’m more concerned about you, man.” I gesture to Farrow. “Seeing your ex-boyfriend last year and picturing you in bed with another guy was a weird kind of torture, and I don’t know what this is doing to you.” I pause. “Are you okay?”

He skates his fingers through his hair again, chest collapsing. “You said that the first time you bottomed, you didn’t let the guy get that far. It was a trust thing, and you were nervous.”

“Yeah,” I nod. “I couldn’t relax and get out of my own damn head.”

“He didn’t finger you,” Farrow says through gritted teeth. His graveled voice deep and rougher. “He’s not just a fucking bad lay, he’s an inconsiderate prick, and knowing you, how you are in bed…” He winces, anger flaring in his eyes, and he swallows hard. “Fuck, man, there is no excuse for him to proceed to fuck you when your body basically screams do not enter.”

I want to reassure him about my hookup the way that he reassured me about his ex-boyfriend. “It was just one of those awkward first times. Trust me. And maybe he’s just more inexperienced than you and didn’t think to help me relax.”

He rolls his eyes, still pissed at Kaden, but he picks up a Millennium Falcon paperweight. He doesn’t have trouble locking eyes with me. “He hurt you?”

I rub my tensed shoulder.

Farrow looks sick. He runs his finger over his bottom pierced lip. “I’ll take your silence as a yes.” He goes still. “Did he rape you?”

“What? No.”

His gaze sweeps over me.

“It was consensual. I wanted to try to bottom, and I didn’t let him get far.”

“He stopped when you said stop?”

“Yeah.” I frown, thinking. “Maybe.”

“Maybe?” Farrow repeats, unblinking and murderous at my hookup. He places the paperweight down.

“Not like that,” I say firmly. “Jesus, it was five years ago.” I rake a hand through my hair. “I think I might’ve just shoved him off me and then I said stop or something like that.”

Farrow stands off the desk. He closes the distance, and we’re suddenly wrapped up in each other. Muscle against muscle. His arms around me, my arms around him. Body sinking into body. I cup the back of his neck.

Our pulses pound.

When we drift back, he clutches my jaw and kisses my lips lightly before whispering, “I love you, wolf scout.”

I nod strongly. “I love you more, man.”

He almost smiles, but his glare finds the door.

“He’s harmless.” I use one of his favorite words. And then, my brain short-circuits at a thought. “Kaden is in this building…” Our eyes meet. “He works for Hale Co.?” I can’t remember what he studied in school.

Farrow thinks for a second. “I did a background check on him over a year ago. It didn’t mention him working for your family’s company. I can do a current search while you’re in the meeting.”

“Sounds good.”

And suddenly, the meeting feels like a breeze compared to this uncomfortable doomsday.

8

MAXIMOFF HALE

He’s a therapist.

That’s the first thing I learn about Kaden Simmons. Farrow gave me more details from the background check. Like how Kaden has his own private practice in Philly.

I should be elated that Kaden isn’t a chief marketing executive of Hale Co., or a brand ambassador. Nothing that’d put him in direct contact with my dad on a weekly basis. But the uncertainty of why he was there is a frustration that I’m trying to ignore.

I realize it’s highly possible that he knows someone from Hale Co. and was stopping by to say hi or maybe to be their ride home. I don’t know.

At least he’s not my family’s therapist. My parents have had the same ones for years. Christ, if Kaden was working for my family in that capacity, I might actually need to be resuscitated back to life.

All I know is that I can’t put any more energy into Kaden than I already have. There are more pressing things in front of me.

At the current moment: a billion damn invitations to stuff.

Batman & Robin plays on the living room TV, and Farrow and I half-watch the 90s movie while envelopes and cards lie before us, spread over my parent’s coffee table.

We huddle close on the sofa, shoulder-to-shoulder.

His tattooed bicep brushes my bare bicep as he slips a card in an envelope. My breath hitches. With two fingers, Farrow passes me the invitation. All the while his gaze is on the TV.