Page 10 of On Your Knees

“I think I’ve been very clear about that.”

“Sorry. I don’t mean to be difficult. It’s just hard for me to wrap my head around.”

“You’re not being difficult, and the only thing you have to be sorry for is lying when I asked if you were okay. Don’t lie to me.”

His eyes flick to me and away. “I’m not used to people asking like that. Actually asking, I mean.”

“I was actually asking, and I can handle the truth. I need you to be able to handle it too. The work I want you to do with me is about honesty. Realness. I have no interest in drawing a lie.”

The tiniest smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “I’ve never met anyone like you.”

I stare at his mouth. I imagine biting the corner of it, eating his sweet, gentle amusement like candy. He’s so damn innocent, so inexperienced. I wonder if he’s a virgin. My dick fattens in its cage at the thought.

I lean forward and pluck the NDA from the coffee table. I hold it out for Levi. Finally, his hands emerge from his pockets. He scrubs them on his thighs before he takes the document. The bandage on his left hand catches my eye. I still don’t like that. Pain should have a purpose.

Levi’s brow furrows as he reads. He starts chewing on his plump bottom lip.

“So I can’t talk about anything we do?”

I’m so distracted by his mouth that it takes me a second to register his question. “Correct,” I reply.

“Like, even me being here?”

“You haven’t signed yet, so this moment isn’t covered, but that’s the idea. What’s bothering you about that?” When I see his impulse to blow off the question, I remind him, “Don’t lie.”

“I guess it makes me feel like we’re about to do something illegal.”

“Illegal activity would bother you?” I’m half teasing, half testing.

He huffs. “Um, yes.”

I’m tempted to voice my guess that he doesn’t like being in trouble, but I think he would get self-conscious, and I have no interest in shaming him for submission. So instead I tell him the truth.

“NDAs don’t cover illegal activity. They’re only for privacy.”

“Oh.”

“If I kill someone, you can tell on me.”

He blushes. “That was not the direction of my thoughts.”

“I probably do look more like white collar crime.” When his blush deepens, because now I’m giving him shit, I reassure him, “It’s just for privacy.”

He snorts softly and drawls, “Because so many people are going to ask me.”

I love the hint of playfulness, but unfortunately, I have to squash it.

“They might, Levi. That’s the point. Have you looked me up?” I hate going in this direction, but I have to. I need him to understand how serious this is.

And he does, instantly. “I… well… yeah, I did.” His eyes skip to me and away.

I feel myself stiffen inside, even though I knew this was unavoidable. I’ve scrubbed myself from the internet where I could, but there’s a lot I can’t control. There are certain articles that I know he might have read and certain images he might have seen. I can never unlink myself from High Castle Church or the celebrated adoption of a young, disadvantaged boy by Pastor Paul Castle and his devoted wife Ruby.

Then there was Paul’s murder, of course.

“Tabloids are always hungry,” I say, unable to keep the edge from my voice. “What we do is not for them to know, or anyone else. It’s private.”

Levi looks at me properly now, but his eyes are soft. I can feel the pity, and I fucking hate it.