Page 51 of Bite Me
RUSSEL
We had to vacate the suite in thirty minutes. After downing a small bottle of juice he’d found in the minibar, Eddie took a shower, and I washed a cumstain from the hem of his shirt. He looked surprised when he walked out of the stall and saw me blow-drying his shirt.
“It’s not perfect,” I said, “but it’ll have to do.”
He shrugged into the shirt and buttoned up. “Thank you. That’s great.”
He looked solemn as he dressed, and I tried not to overanalyze, but when we were about to leave through the double door, I didn’t like the resigned slump to his shoulders. It looked very much like regret. I caught his wrist, and he turned to me, a silent question in his eyes.
I’d promised not to hurt him, and I would do everything in my power to keep my promise. Except repeating it wouldn’t do shit.
So I kissed him one last time, just a soft press of lips that made him smile and blush. There. That was how I wanted him to look at me.
“Russel, at work, um…” He sighed, his breath fanning my lips.
“We’ll be careful.”
With a nod, he turned to open the door.
* * *
It was incredible what being well-fed with the prospect of another dinner did to my mood. Where was my existentialist angst? My bitterness? Eddie’s blood cleansed my soul.
I walked the streets with my chin held high even when the sun beat my neck.
Eddie seemed nervous and jumpy at work, but as I observed our coworkers, I could tell nobody suspected anything—except maybe Cat. When I entered the breakroom on Tuesday, she nudged Eddie, and he turned scarlet in the face. I had to ask him about that soon.
With how many need-to-know projects we were working on together, Eddie spent hours in my office behind closed doors. I kept my hands to myself for the entire Tuesday and Wednesday, but it took great effort. It would have been the most natural thing in the world to kiss his cheek hello when he entered or to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear.
Eddie, like the responsible adult he was, didn’t display any signs of distraction.
“Anthony watched the Charles Carlsson interview last night,” he said when we were finishing up on Thursday evening.
“Yes, he told me. I don’t think he realizes what an achievement it was that you could make Charlie behave with a single training session.”
Helen and Pierce had called us in a panic that Charlie was about to say yes to an impromptu appearance on an evening show. Eddie had coached him, and the result was nothing short of a miracle.
Whenever I complimented him, Eddie’s first instinct was to shrug it off. “Charlie’s fun. I thought macho heroes like him died out in the nineties, but he’s the real deal.”
I scoffed. “He’s a disaster. A loose cannon. It’s incredible you made him stick to the script.”
“I think it was the baby argument that did it. He’s a very proud papa-to-be. Also, I suspect Pierce can be very persuasive.”
“Ha! I bet.” It was late, and I could feel the sunset behind the blinds. Eddie’s delicious scent teased my nostrils. Maybe I could be playful now? I raised one eyebrow at him. “Did you or did you not imagine them fucking when you talked to them?”
Eddie’s guileless eyes went wide. “Pierce and Charles?”
I grinned. “Yes, Eddie. Pierce and Charles. And we have it from the most reliable source that Charles bottoms.”
“That’s grossly unprofessional of you, Mr. Greenwood. I’m appalled.” His tone was serious, but his lips twitched.
“You did imagine it, didn’t you?”
“It was really hard not to. At one point, it looked like they were going to argue, but Pierce put his hands on Charles’s shoulders and squeezed, and Charles’s eyes fell shut, and he honest-to-God groaned. Then Helen licked her lips, looking at them, and I wondered if I should have given them ten minutes to sort out the sexual tension in the room.”
I snickered. “Just ten minutes? Can you imagine what you would have walked in on?”
“Again, so unprofessional!”
