As we walk through my front door, I realize I haven’t had a man in this apartment since James. The first time I brought James here he’d compared everything. Yes, my building has a concierge but he lived in the penthouse. Yes, my home office was large but he had a second bedroom and an office. He had a better view than I did. His appliances were newer.
I’m suddenly relieved I’m not the one marrying that tiresome man.
Wesley follows behind me, stepping down into the living room. He takes in the white walls, the floating glass fireplace, the marble island, all with a happy smile on his face. It’s like...he actually wants to be here or something.
He points to a large blue pennant with “B STRONG” in the universally recognized Boston Red Sox font.
“You like the Sox?” he asks, excitedly.
“I like Boston.”
I place my keys on the counter, pulling off my cardigan, and turn to face him. “Do you want something to drink?”
He shakes his head, pulling off his ball cap and holding it in front of him with both hands.
“Should I take off my shoes...?” He peers down at my stocking feet and the pristine white-and-gold color scheme.
“It’s fine,” I say. But he toes them off anyway.
This man is unbelievably sexy right now.
He puts his hat down beside my keys. “So.”
He snaps his fingers and I realize, he’s waiting for me to take the lead on this.
But I don’t know what to do. None of this is normal for me.
“I don’t want you to feel like you have to perform,” I practically yell at him.
“Whoa.” He shakes his head, smiling.
I wring my hands together. What the hell am I doing? This will end horribly.
“Do you think I came here with you because I had to?” he asks, scratching his temple. “I mean, I guess that could be kind of a kinky role-play thing...”
“Wesley.” My eyes feel huge in my face. My mouth a flat line. “This is serious.”
I press my palms to my cheeks to cool them. “I feel like I’m going crazy. I know I shouldn’t want this but I can’t...”
I reach out, but I don’t touch him. And I don’t want to make him feel like he has to touch me. No matter what happens right now, I’ll always be his boss again come Monday morning. I place my fists at the base of my throat, tucking them under my chin to keep them from straying too close to him. “We need to discuss this. Now.”
He nods. “You’re right.” He points to one side of my kitchen island. “You stand there.” He parks himself on the other side.
“What are you doing?” I ask, skeptical.
“We work together.” He shrugs. “Maybe it’s not such a bad idea to treat this like...business.”
Slowly, I nod, taking my assigned spot across from him. He leans his elbows on the counter, his long body bent and his legs stretched out behind him. I fold one hand over the other.
“We need to set some rules, Wesley, for how we approach a personal and professional relationship.” As the words flow, my shoulders loosen. This is like a contract negotiation, and those I can handle with my eyes closed.
The wanting is still there, a low-level throb beneath my skin that keeps me warm and wet. But I can set it aside for now, for the good of us both.
“I think it’s fair to say that after the team practice and then this past Friday, we’re having difficulty keeping our...” I search for the most delicate phrasing.
“Hands off each other?” he supplies.
I nod. “I also acknowledge that I misjudged you in the past and have discovered that the person you truly are is a person that I...” I clear my throat.
“Like to kiss?”
I sigh, giving him a stern look.
He lifts his chin for me to continue. His dimple peeks out from his cheek.
“As I was saying, we need ground rules for our personal and professional relationships to coexist. I want you to know that I acknowledge that I have a lot of power over you in our professional relationship. I promise to never hold something that happens in our personal life against you at work. Even if that something is that you no longer want to continue this...” I point between us. “We need to promise to be honest with each other and most importantly...”
I swallow. The words taste sour but they need to be said.
“We can’t tell anyone about this, Wesley.” I want to reach across the countertop to take his hand in mine. “If anyone were to find out, they would question all of the work you’ve done at Hill City. They would question the work we did together and we would both be fired. Is there anything you’d like to add to our...negotiations?”
I study him but for once Wesley is a vault. “What are you thinking?” I whisper.
“I’m trying to come up with another stipulation, but I’m blanking.”
Now I do reach across for his hand. He slides his palm to mine, his skin warm against the cold counter.
“The most important thing to me is that you are comfortable. That you are coming to this with...” I shake my head. “Fucking enthusiastic consent. I’ve been in uncomfortable workplace situations before.” I don’t bother going into detail about what’s been happening with Richard. It’s too embarrassing. “I never want this—” I squeeze his hand “—to be uncomfortable for you.”
He squeezes back. “Thank you. I appreciate that and I promise you—” a slow grin spreads across his face “—I don’t feel that way. And... I want you to feel comfortable, too. If you ever want to end this, I don’t want you to be afraid to.”
I smile and make a silent promise: I’ll check in. With him and myself. I never want to be the Richard in this situation. Pushing myself on him when the feelings aren’t reciprocated.
“Does this conclude negotiations?” he asks.
“Unless you have anything to add, I can’t see why we can’t conclude negotiations for the moment.”
He moves around the island, stopping on my side. “If I think up any amendments, I’ll be sure to bring them to your attention.”
“Thank you, Mr. Chambers.” My formality brings another smile to his face.
“Should we sign something or...?”
I frown. “I think it would be best if we didn’t leave a paper trail, don’t you?”
“Corrine?” He laughs, wrapping his hands around my wrists and pulling me toward him. “I was joking.”
Oh.
“Actually, I was thinking we could conclude negotiations with something a bit more interesting.”
I knead his pectorals and drag my eyes to meet his. “Like with you fucking me again, Wesley?”
His heart beats harder beneath my hands, his chest expanding on a deep inhale. “Straight to the point,” he says. “I’ve always liked that about you.”
He has to curl his body into a question mark to reach my lips. I lift up onto the tips of my toes to meet him, pressing my mouth to his in a soft, hesitant kiss.
“Your bed?” he asks against my lips.
I nod, moving backward, pulling him with me by the front of his shirt. The light dims as we move down the hallway, the feeling of the floor changing under my feet as I step from cool hardwood to soft carpet. But mostly I just feel him against me, his warmth, growing harder by the second as we stumble past my office.
We’re a flurry of moving body parts and clothing. My top gets stuck when I try to pull it off. He trips on his jeans when I push them down his legs. He drops his glasses on the floor when he tries to put them on the table beside my bed. The only sound in the world is the sound of each individual tooth on the zipper of my jeans, coming apart as he slowly pulls the tab down.
My skin cools as it’s exposed and all of the things I couldn’t see or hear or feel because I was too engrossed in him hit me. I’m about to be naked with Wesley, my intern, in my bed, for the first time.
This isn’t some moment of passion that we can explain away with muddled emotions. We came into this with clear heads. We know what we’re doing.
We’re starting an affair.
He rests his hands on my shoulders, over the straps of my bra. I cover his with my own.
“I’m sorry,” he says, sitting back on his heels. “Is this okay?”
Of course he would think he’s moving too fast and I’m breaking out into mental hives.
I nod. “Just...this feels weird me asking you this but: please don’t think less of me,” I whisper.
“Less of you? For what?”
“For this.” I use one hand to show that I include us, this bed, my room, in what I mean. “For this decision.”
“Are you nuts?” He smiles and I bite my lip at how cute he looks right now. “I think you’re unbelievable.”
He buries his face in my chest, as if to prove it. “You feel unbelievable.” Kissing down my stomach, he nibbles the skin above my panties, rubs his nose into the fabric above my pussy. I close my eyes at the intimacy of this moment.
He’s too much. And I can’t get enough.
“You smell unbelievable,” he whispers.
He crawls back up my body and lies on his side, propping his head up in his hand. “Are you sure you want this?”
“It’s all I’ve been able to think about since...probably since we kissed,” I admit. Saying it is like dropping a weight I didn’t know I was carrying.
“Because, like.” He places his hand gently on my belly. “You seem a little...closed off. I mean, you’re generally kind of closed off. But I thought after...”
He shrugs.
“After we kissed in a dugout?”
He huffs out a laugh. “Yeah. I thought maybe I had unlocked a new, secret level to you.
“Not that I think you’re a video game or a challenge to be overcome. I just...” He pauses long enough for my initial offense to wear off.
“I can never tell what you’re thinking,” he says in a desperate kind of tone.
I glance from the bedroom door to my closet, to my pink toenails, trying to hide my smile. “Well, you did the right thing then, when you asked me. If you ever want to know, just ask.”
He nods, a deep trench in his brow, like all his thinking derives from that one spot. “Are you sure?” he asks. “Do you want to do this?”
Wesley’s hair falls over his forehead in a carefree way. His eyelashes are as thick as a bottlebrush. His hands are gentle and reverent wherever he touches me. He’s kinder and braver than I ever gave him credit for.
But none of that will excuse what we’re about to do. What we’ve already done. “I feel like...as much as I want this, as much as I want you, and we’ve set boundaries, this is wrong. I’m your boss and I’m taking advantage of you.”
“What if I promised you that not a single part of me feels taken advantage of? And if I did, I would tell you—and then probably encourage you to do it again?”
I scratch my nails through his stubble. He closes his eyes. “It’s so much more complicated than that.”
“I know,” he says. “It doesn’t make it not true, though.” Leaning down, he kisses me slowly. “What do you want me to do to you, Corrine?” he whispers.
There’s only longing in his eyes. Somehow, he can put aside any worries, all the concerns that come with this decision, and just be here. I want to just be here so badly. I want to flip a switch and just feel.
His hands roam restlessly over the curve of my hip. And maybe it’s just that easy, to turn it all off, to forget about the risks. To forget about everything happening outside of this room, like my mother and Richard. Maybe for right now, there’s nothing outside of the two of us.
I close my eyes and I decide. I’m going to do this with Wesley. For the next however many hours, I’m going to immerse myself in him. I’m going to choose him. And choose myself. I’m going to let myself feel good.
I wrap his hair around my fingers, slip my tongue between his teeth, sucking on his upper lip. Pushing his head away and down my body, I say, “Do what you said you were going to do. Eat out, Wesley.”
I pull the straps of my bra down. He stops there first, licking each nipple, sucking and toying with my breasts until my legs writhe beneath his.
“Now,” I whisper. “Please,” I add as an afterthought.
He grinds his cock into my hip before moving down my body and if I didn’t know any better, I’d say he likes it when I get a little bossy.
Smiling against my chest, rising over me, and hooking his fingers in my panties, he pulls them down slowly. He spreads me wide open with his hands on my thighs. Wiping his hand over his mouth, he consumes my body with his eyes in a way neither of us had a chance to last time, when we were too busy pulling and biting and tearing at each other. I’m so hot already, like his eyes are enough to get me off. He ducks to place a single kiss between my legs. I bend my knees and cry out.
“What do you want?” he asks, his mouth still against my skin, his voice vibrating through me. I am embarrassingly wet.
“More of that. Tease me.” I sound like I’m begging but he doesn’t make me wait.
He kisses and bites my thighs. Circles his tongue around my clit but never touches it. Every time I lift my hips, seeking more contact, he hums this pleased, satisfied sound. My fists claw at the duvet. Every breath he sends across my center feels like it could blow me away. He’s driving me crazy and I fucking love it.
I twine my fingers in his hair, guiding his head to my center. “No more teasing,” I gasp and finally he’s there. Tasting me, licking up one side of my lips and down the other. Sucking on me and pushing his fingers into my body until my hips buck against his face and the only sounds I can make are More and Yes and Please, Wesley. Please. He’s sloppy and wild but nothing has ever felt hotter than this.
He curls his fingers inside me and the pressure breaks. I might be crushing him between my legs but I’m too busy moaning against my fist to care. His tongue moves with every pulse of my body, pulling out every last bit of my orgasm. My heart wants to beat its way out of my rib cage. The only place I have a pulse is in my clit, the points of my nipples.
Slowly he rises up, wiping his forearm across his mouth, and reaches over the side of the bed, fumbling with his pants. I sift my hands through his hair. His skin is warm against my palm. I lock my arms around his waist to keep him from sliding off.
“What are you doing?” I giggle as he heaves himself up, holding a condom between his fingers like a trophy.
“Prophylactics,” he says, in an absurdly nerdy voice, pushing his finger up the bridge of his nose. “I just remembered I’m not wearing my glasses.”
God, he’s cute.
He kneels beside me, his face serious.
“I didn’t want to assume,” he says, shrugging. “Just because we did it without one the last time.”
Protection had not even entered my mind. I hold my hand over my eyes, blink into the darkness behind my open palm.
“I completely forgot,” I say quietly. My stomach does that flip, the one I feel when I miss a step going down stairs. That’s what this feels like and I can’t tell if it’s a good or bad thing. But I also don’t want it to stop.
“It’s not that I don’t trust you. I do.”
He smiles. “I trust you, too.”
I can’t look at him right now. “This feels so weird.” My voice is muffled from beneath my hands.
He leans away. “Nothing kills a boner better than a woman saying sex with you feels weird. Do I make some face I don’t know about or...?”
A girlish laugh bursts out of me. “No. No, it’s not you, I promise. I just...” I glance around the room like maybe I’ll find the words written on my walls. “I never forget to use condoms. I never text a man to meet up at his house. I never...”
Have sex with my intern on my desk, I leave unsaid. But I think we both hear it.
“Well, lucky for you, I and every other human male has kept a condom—or five—in his wallet since he knew what sex was. So, if you forget, I’ll remember.” He holds it up again. “Do you want me to put it on?”
My chest warms with affection and appreciation for this man. “Yes.”
He tears it open and rolls the rubber down his shaft. His hands shake a little and I wonder if it’s because I’m watching him or because he feels as excited as I do to discover what else sex with each other can feel like.
“Once...” He pauses. “I shot the condom into my eye like an elastic band.”
“I...uh...oh.” I suck in my lips and bite them to keep myself from laughing.
“I wasn’t even having sex. I was just trying on a condom for the first time when I was like fourteen.” He pulls at the reservoir tip, a flush on his cheeks that might be from arousal or embarrassment. “But I didn’t this time,” he says quietly.
Leaning over me, he kisses my cheek.
“Thank Big Papi for small miracles,” I whisper and he huffs a laugh against my neck.
“Yes. Thank you Big Papi and all the Boston Red Sox.”
My hands settle over his hips again in the descending silence. His grin slowly fades, his lips brush mine and he slides his tongue into my mouth in a quiet, soft kiss. My whole body thrills at these touches, at the knowledge that—in every situation—Wesley is the same man, gentle, humble, kind. Arousal pools low in my belly. I want to press my thighs together but I can’t because his own block me, so I settle for rubbing the coarse hair on his legs against my inner thighs.
“Can we do something a little different?” he whispers. “It’s not anything weird,” he says quickly. “It’s just... I like it...on your stomach?”
“O-okay.” When I don’t move, he cups my hip, slowly turning me onto my side, placing one arm under my head and bending my knee so I am not fully on my stomach. Normally I don’t mind a little bit of manhandling, but this is nice, too. Every touch feels reverential. He hovers, half behind and half over top of me, stroking my stomach in slow circles. With each pass, he gets closer and closer to my core. My body is open, exposed to him. But the sheets are crushed in his fist, for me. I am so wet and so powerful. Even with my body heavy and shivery from my orgasm, I still want every inch of him.
“Is this okay?” He breathes the words into the nape of my neck.
I try to catch my breath and look over my shoulder at him. “You like this?”
He nods, his eyes bright. Taking himself in hand, he rubs the head of his cock on me, like he is soaking me up. I rest my forehead into my arm, arching my back into him. When he pushes inside, I release the breath I was holding.
He feels exactly as I remember. He feels better than that. He leaves room for nothing else but him. No other thought but him. This is the feeling I want. The feeling I chased him for.
I moan as he slowly pulls out and presses back in. It’s a debased sound, lecherous. If someone were to ask me what sex should feel like this would be the sound I’d make as I tell them, it feels like this: Wesley Chambers fucking me from behind.
My breasts bounce, my nipples brushing against the sheet with every thrust.
“Let me,” he whispers against the sweat at my temple as I reach between my legs.
“Don’t stop.” I sound desperate for it. “Harder.”
He plants his hands on either side of my head and fucks me in earnest. Every time his thighs slap my ass, he grunts. I want to hear that sound in my sleep; each one pushes me closer and closer to the edge as I play with myself.
“Oh.” He gasps, the sound reverential. “Fuck yes. Touch yourself.” His voice is a harsh whisper.
Liquid heat rolls down my spine. I’m shuddering, moaning, holding my breath, as I come. My body can’t let him go.
With a final thrust he comes, his cock kicking inside me. Wesley rests his forehead against my shoulder, catching his breath. His breath leaves goose bumps along my skin.
He brushes my hair back. He squints a little, like without his glasses—or perhaps with the postorgasmic haze—he can’t see.
“Good?” he asks.
In this moment, I wish I had said no to the condom so I could feel everything. I want to catalogue all of him, the feel of him, his come on the inside of my thighs after he pulls out.
“Good.”
So fucking good.