Page 81 of Center of Gravity

“There’s no protocol, Alex,” I hesitated around his name. I hadn’t said it for weeks and what had almost come out was an endearment.Baby, sweetheart,some simplistic expression of the affection I still felt for him that would never be enough. I’d screwed myself out of the right to call him anything. “There’s no right and wrong. You just do the best you can—which sounds completely trite, but that’s all there is.” I listened to his quiet inhales, and then a larger breath. I imagined him nodding on the other end of the line. Or maybe he was shaking his head.

“I didn’t call you about that, though. That’s not what I want to talk about. It just sort of came out.”

“Okay,” I said hesitantly, then waited. I had no idea what to expect, but it certainly wasn’t what came next.

“I want to get off. Ineedto get off. I need something to—I needyouto get me off.”

“Right now? You want me to come there and—” I would have. I was already reaching for my keys.

“What? No!” he bit out. “Right now. Over the phone.”

I went silent, trying to work through what he was asking of me. I remembered this feeling, too, the need for release at any cost—a five minute distraction, some break from reality even if it was temporary and meant nothing. Hadn’t I done the same thing before, funneled my own grief over my mom straight into Sean, driven him relentlessly, desperately into the mattress and after him, strangers whose names I didn’t care about? One of those had been Alex, that night in the club.

I closed my eyes, trying to rein in the plummeting sensation that coursed through my body. He didn’t want me back. He just wanted me to get him off, to give him a minute or two of relief before he pushed me back out of his life again. I wanted to laugh because it was so terribly heartbreaking. I deserved it. I was certain of that.

“Alex, I don’t think you—”

“You’re doing it again. Stop thinking you know what I need and just do what I’m fucking asking. Or don’t. Can you do that or should I just find someone else?”

Electricity crackled up my spine and rooted itself in my rising blood pressure. I wondered if he’d called any other numbers before mine. With my fingers clenching in a fist, I forced myself to take a deep breath that shook when I exhaled, clearing my head of everything but the present moment.Just help the guy out. You owe him that.

“Is this going to happen?” Alex’s voice was harsh and full of need. Not desire, but need. It was shocking how clear the difference was in that moment.

“Yes. Where are you?” Phone sex I knew how to do. I’d gotten a lot of practice in during the early days of Sean.

“On some dirt road off the highway. I pulled over. I was—never mind. It doesn’t matter.” I could fill in the blanks well enough. He was upset, probably driving around with no clear destination, searching for an outlet. He’d been crying. I could hear it in his voice. The ache in me deepened. I wanted so badly to be close to him, to touch him.

“What are you wearing?”

“Jeans and a T-shirt.” He spoke mechanically.

I sighed.

“What?”

“You’re incredible in jeans and a T-shirt.”

He gave a startled, brief laugh. “I am?”

“Of course.”

“‘Of course’ he says.” I could hear the eye roll in his tone and for just a second it was as if we were sitting there together. “You?”

“A suit.”

“Still? Are you working late?”

“Yes.” I stood to close the office door, then returned to my chair, and tossed my suit coat onto the desk so I could lean back. “I’m sitting behind my desk, in fact.”

He made a little breathy noise that sounded close to satisfaction. “I can work with that, imagine you like that.”

I wondered if he imagined me as often as I imagined him. “Put the phone on speaker and set it down beside you, then unzip your pants. I want to hear everything.” I heard the rustle of his hand as he adjusted the phone, put it on speaker, and laid it down beside him, then the zip of his fly as he undid it. Blood rushed to my cock with such speed it was pathetic.

“I like your voice, how it gets low sometimes when you get bossy.”

I chuckled in spite of myself.

“And I like that, too,” he said, voice thick, “That soft, sexy laugh. I didn’t forget it but I— Yeah.” His exhale was rough and fractured. Frustration, something else. I wasn’t sure.