Page 50 of A is for Aftercare

“I’ve already told you not to be daft. It was a dumb thing to say.”

“Why are you fooling around with me?”

That is all we're doing, isn't it? Fooling around. Other than when I took my clothes off to sleep yesterday, we haven't even been nearly naked around each other since the party. It does feel like he's treating me like a naughty indulgence. It's been fun, short term.

“Because you’re gorgeous,” he says.

“That’s the only reason?”

“I like you.”

I smile. "I like you too. But what are we doing?"

He frowns.

“Morning blow jobs and fully clothed fucks in the kitchen after work…Don’t get me wrong, Sir, I’ve loved every hot second I’ve spent with you, but I want more.”

He looks into my eyes, saying nothing, his expression unreadable. I may as well carry on. I’ve got nothing to lose. I don’t have Hamish, not really. What we’re doing right now can only be classed as a fling at best.

“I want you,” I say. “I want you to be my Dom and my boyfriend.” My cheeks pink. “Sorry, boyfriend is probably too childish a term, isn’t it?”

“Partners?” he offers.

“That’s better.” I press a soft kiss to his lips. “I want to get to know you, Sir. I want to spend time together that’s not just about work or sex.”

“We cuddle,” he objects.

“For half a second until you start writing and you shoo me out the door the moment I’ve recovered.”

“It’s not like that,” he grumbles.

“It’s how it feels.”

My body quivers with nervous energy. Laying my feelings on the line like this is a gamble, and I know it. He could easily tell me this is all he wants and I’ll have to accept it or end things. The fact he’s sitting there, silent as a stone, with his eyebrows drawn together and visible tension in his shoulders, ramps up my anxiety.

"I've told you what I want, Sir," I say in a soft tone. "What do you want?"

“You.”

That simple statement should make me feel better, but it doesn't because it's not an answer.

“How do you want me?” I squeeze my eyes shut and laugh. “I’m sorry. That sounded way more suggestive than it was supposed to. I mean—”

“I know what you meant,” he says, cutting me off. “I’m rusty with relationships, Archie. Sex I can do. Sex is easy. Relationships are…”

“Hard?” I venture.

“Complicated. Especially when it’s with a man I’m working with, who also happens to be half my age.”

“So…it’s okay to screw your younger PA, but not get to know me?”

He shrugs. “I’m not sure any of this is okay.”

“Then I’ll quit.”

“Don’t be daft.”

“I’m not. If me being your PA makes things too complicated, I’ll quit.” I stand and grab my phone. “I’ll call the agency right now and tell them you’re impossible to work for.”