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“What about Sundays?”
“Not funny.” I try to move away but his grip tightens.
“I was fascinated by you,” he says. “I don’t know that I can articulate just how much. At how much you do for someone who doesn’t appreciate it. How easy it would be for him to take five minutes out of his day to make you happy. Ten to make you ecstatic.”
“Don’t,” I plead brokenly.
“You deserve more than what he’s giving you.”
“It’s not his f-fault. You don’t know him. You don’t know me. Let go of me.”
“I wanted to give you what he should’ve given you. I wanted to give you more. Give you everything you deserve.”
“Let go.”
“You need space right now, so I’m gonna give you some. What I will say first is that what I wanted most last night was to give you the night of your life. And baby, it was the night of my life, too.”
I wince.
He must feel it because against my ear he says, “I mean it. It was fucking incredible. We both know that. And I want more of it.”
I shake my head. “Stop.”
“I want more of it, Chloe. No, little bunny, I want all of it. All of it.”
I shake my head, saying nothing.
“I’m gonna give you space right now. Leave when you’re ready. And I’ll be in touch.”
“No,” I whisper. “You can’t. This was a one-off.”
He puts his mouth to the top of my head. “No, it won’t be a one-off. Last night you agreed to make all my fantasies come true, Chloe. And that’s what you’re gonna do.”
He squeezes again before he releases me. I sway with the loss of his stability, but I don’t turn around. Instead, I stay still in the hallway, staring at the digital number ten on the dryer’s display as my clothes continue to tumble.
And I don’t know what to think about what he’s just said, or how to process any of what’s happened in the past ten or twelve hours. So I simply stare at the display on the dryer through blurry eyes, while it slowly counts down the minutes until I can get dressed and get the fuck out of here.
The button and zipper of my jeans are so hot they’re burning me, but I don’t give a shit.
I don’t see him on my way out and don’t know how to lock up, so I don’t worry about it since he got in with his fingerprint, anyway. And I shouldn’t worry about his stuff, his property, after what he’s just admitted to doing to me.
The elevator is waiting for me, so I get in, press the button and leave. His car is gone when I get to mine. He must have sent the elevator back up to wait for me because the parking lot is empty other than my car.
I cry all the way home, grateful I don’t have to face anyone for at least the next twenty-four hours, though I’m sure twenty-four hours won’t be nearly enough.
Sunday Evening
My door opens and Adam motors into my office without knocking. I peer over my shoulder at him, thinking I should remark that I’m implementing the same rule he has. I still remember the sting of him snapping at me when we first moved here because I walked into his office without first knocking.
But I don’t say anything. And right now I don’t think I even feel anything. Not guilty about sleeping with someone else. Maybe a bit of anger, though. Maybe like what I’ve just been through is Adam’s fault because I didn’t want to use that blasted hall pass, but he pushed and pushed.
“Hey. Um… I’m home,” he says expectantly, looking a bit confused.
Maybe because I didn’t come to greet him when he arrived a few minutes ago, loudly announcing his arrival.
“Good weekend with Paul. Missed you, though. How are things here?”
I unclench my jaw. “Hey. Good. I’m just trying to get some work done,” I tell him. “Talk to you in a bit?”
