I pressed my hands to my hips, trying to find steady ground. Was this what he thought he wanted? For me to shove him down, get rough, force my cock down his throat as if that act alone could patch up all the cracks inside him? Was it punishment he was chasing? Validation? A moment where he didn’t have to think, just feel? I couldn’t tell, and that terrified me. I wasn’t a mind reader, and I wasn’t about to use him as a means to feel needed if I didn’t understand what I was walking into. The Dom/sub thing wasn’t even my lane. Yeah, I liked it rough. Yeah, I was a top. But I wasn’t some magic cure-all for someone chasing subspace like it was his salvation. “Whatever youthinkyou need—I’m not that guy.”
“You don’t knowwhatI need,” he said evenly, but there was a flicker in his voice—something brittle. He stepped toward me slowly, deliberately, and I felt the shift in the air. He looked calm, too calm, as if he’d stuffed all the chaos down where I couldn’t reach it. “It’s just sex, and you liked it last time.”
“You were insane, you?—”
“Just sex,” he whispered.
But I didn’t believe him—not really. His voice sounded too careful, too level, as if he were trying to make it easy for me to walk away or maybe, not scare me off.
Where was his fire? The snarl? The sharp edge of him that refused to bend? It was gone, buried beneath a mask I couldn’t see through. And that scared the hell out of me because I didn’t know if he was holding back to protect me, or to protect himself.
“You’re very tall,” he observed as if we weren’t talking about sex at all. “What are you—six-five?” I didn’t answer. I was too caught up in figuring out how to get him to back off. “I’m only five-ten, I probably weigh like fifty pounds less than you, because hell, for a lawyer, you’re built. I bet you could hold me down enough to fuck me hard.”
I met his gaze. “You need someone who isn’t me. As much as I want it…” I couldn’t believe I’d admitted that to him, but his eyes widened at the words, and I sighed and put all my wants and needs back in the dark space where I kept them. “Shit, Pretty, I’m not a safe place. You want someone who can fix you when you lose your shit.” I gestured between us. “I don’t even know what we’re doing.”
Jamie’s jaw clenched, then he tugged his T-shirt over his head and met my gaze.
His blond hair fell messily over one eye, his blue gaze locked on me like a challenge. Pillow-soft lips, the kind that had looked so fucking good wrapped around my cock, parted slightly, the hint of a pout still there—and I wanted him. Fiercely.
Then, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a condom and a handful of lube sachets, setting them on the side table like an offering.
I have a perfectly good bottle of lube in my bedroom.
My cock was hard. Obvious in my damn suit pants. I tugged off my jacket and draped it over the back of the chair, loosening my tie as heat prickled at the back of my neck.
Jamie’s eyes widened as if to ask—are we doing this?
And fuck me, I didn’t know. But I wanted to.
I stared at him, throat tight, because the truth was—Ididwant him again. I wanted to be buried in him, until he didn’t know any broken, brilliant part of himself that I hadn’t touched— But wanting him and being right for him were two very different things.
And I wasn’t sure which one mattered more. “I’mnot what you need,” I repeated, but the words felt weak against the way he moved.
He toed off his sneakers, slow, deliberate, then reached for the button on his jeans, popping it with a flick of his fingers. His gaze never left mine. His hips rolled as he pushed the denim down, revealing black boxer briefs stretched tight, and then, those too were gone in one smooth motion.
He was cut. He was perfect. And he knew it. Every action he made was calculated—confident, but not cocky—as if he was letting me watch, not asking for approval, not begging, justoffering. A silent dare wrapped in pale skin and defiance.
My breath caught. Every nerve in me lit up. The line between want and need blurred to nothing.
I still wasn’t what he needed.
But damn if he didn’t make me want to be, and that made me angry at myself—I’d promised to keep the darker side of me locked away the moment I’d met my friends in college and we became a team. I vowed I’d be the good guy, the one who didn’t give in to the hunger that sometimes twisted low in my gut. And fuck… I’d been so good.
But Jamie was sin personified.
He turned, walking past me as if he hadn’t torn me in half with a look. He climbed onto the sofa,braced his knees on the cushions and leaned over the back, arms trembling slightly as he reached behind himself with lube-slicked fingers. One hand planted for balance, the other began to work himself open—awkward, determined, deliberate.
And all the while, he stared back at me. Over his shoulder. Blue eyes locked on mine. Daring me. Tempting me.
I saw the lube glistening on the curve of his ass, the way his jaw clenched, and I lost it. A growl tore out of me—low and dangerous—and I was heading to him before I knew it, crossing the room and yanking his hand back, away from himself.
“Mine,” I growled, voice unrecognizable.
What the fuck was that growling for? I wasn’t possessive. I fucked and ran. That was the rule. That had always been the rule. But this… Jamie… , slick and panting and wide-eyed beneath me, wasn’t only sex. And I didn’t know who the hell that made me anymore.
I pressed my palm to the small of his back and watched him arch for me slightly—just enough. “Stay like that,” I rasped. “Fuck, Pretty. You’re already dripping. Is that all for me?”
Jamie bowed his head, his hair falling in a curtain that hid his face, but I caught the flush crawling downthe back of his neck. He pushed his ass back toward me in answer, needy and raw.
