Oh, she’s an incredible mess!
When the elevator doors slide open, Thor supports her arms and shoulders as she stumbles out.
Brian stares at both of them. He’s waiting outside her door, casual in his leather jacket. He looks pale and his hair is mussed up, but otherwise, he seems no worse for the wear. Her heart immediately leaps to her throat.
“Brian!” she cries. The fog in her brain is still fuzzy, but she forces it away. “Where have you been? I’ve been trying to call you for two days!”
“I lost my phone.” He is still staring at Thor, who is still clasping her in a possessive way.
Sam tries to straighten herself. But what the heck? she thinks. Why am I feeling guilty? It’s not as if we have a commitment. Besides, he’s the one who has been missing for two f**king days!
Thor is seemingly ill at ease. But he doesn’t take his hands off her. Good thing too, because she would have fallen on her face.
Brian says shortly, “I see you’ve been busy.”
“Why didn’t you call me?” she demands.
But she knows the answer anyway. Because we don’t have a commitment to each other and we don’t have to clock in.
“I’ve been busy too.”
“Uh,” Thor says, “perhaps I’d better go.”
“No, it’s all right. I’m going,” Brian says, straightening his back to his full height. “I won’t be in your way. Just make sure you have yourselves a good time.”
“No, Brian, it’s not like that!”
Sam makes to push Thor off her, and then the unbidden thought stops her again. Why should she? Then she thinks of the gym and earrings and everything Brian has done for her – selling his car to fund their advertising campaign. Hell, everything. And the guilt comes back in waves. Guilt . . . and a sense of commitment.
She was right the first time. She’s a veritable mess when it comes to Brian.
The words freeze in her throat as he thunders away. Not to the elevators, but down the stairs. She can only watch his escaping back – the slightly mussed-up chestnut hair that catches the light – as he disappears.
She doesn’t go after him.
Anger rears up to bite her again. Who the hell does he think he is to judge her? How dare he?
Thor clears his throat. “Do you have your key? I’ll get you in and put you into bed.”
Suddenly, there’s nothing more she wants than to get away from him.
“Um, I don’t feel too good, Thor. I think I need to lie down.”
“That’s what I’m trying to get you to do.”
“I mean alone.” She pushes his chest away firmly. For good.
He actually looks hurt.
“Are you sure?” he says.
“Very sure. Please, I need to be alone right now. I’m not feeling too good.” In fact, she thinks she might throw up on his shoes.
“OK,” he says doubtfully, “but only if you’re sure.”
God, but is that the outline of his c**k within his jeans? Surely he can’t get a stir from what just happened with her and Brian? But the bulge is very obvious.
“I’m sure.” Her voice raises a pitch. “I’ll see you tomorrow at the gym, OK?”
It takes an eternity for him to say “OK” and walk away. She waits till he goes to the elevator, stubs the button, looks back at her to ascertain she really means it – which she confirms by shooting him a glare – and then waits till the elevator doors shut on him before she resumes fumbling for her key.
Damn, damn, damn!
5
Brian is in the deep fugue of Xanax. It’s the only way he could get to sleep. Besides, he’s on duty at Delilah’s tonight. She is going to make him f**k her three times in a row again, like he’s some sort of battering ram. In essence, that’s what he is to her.
It takes a long while for the incessant ringing of his doorbell to puncture through his skull. The sound drones on and on. This apartment isn’t a penthouse. Far from it. So any sound permutations coming from the lounge are sure to lambast into the bedroom on the same level, especially since he left the bedroom door wide open.
He is completely naked. He had taken a shower when he came in. Two showers in fact, but it wasn’t enough to make him clean. He still feels dirty all over. And guilty. The morass of emotions wandering in the mists of his head right now is a jumble, and one that he can’t sort out any time soon.
He groans and buries his head under the pillow. But the ringing of the doorbell is now accompanied by loud thumping.
“Brian! I know you’re in there, so open up! If you don’t, I’ll call the police!”
Sammie. Shit. The last person he wants to see. He can’t face her like this. He really can’t.
She sounds scared out of her wits too. Likely she’s scared for him.
He has to see her anyway. Because in spite of whatever he saw last night, he knows he has no claim on her. It’s his fault for not calling her for two days. He was ashamed. Too ashamed to do anything but allow himself to be led around like a slave.
But it was something he had to do to ensure she had a future. A future which will no doubt include Thor. Processing what he saw was only the beginning. He has to keep telling himself that she has no future with a would-be jailbird anyway, and so she was only doing what came naturally.
If only his mind isn’t in such a dichotomy over her. If only he isn’t such a f**k-up. No wonder his own family doesn’t want anything to do with him.
It is this thought – ensuring her future – that makes him groan again, pull off the pillow and slide out of bed. Since it’s her, he doesn’t bother putting a robe on. He opens the door, stark naked. He is aware that he must look a fright with his hair standing up at all angles and his eyes bloodshot.
She stands on the other side of the doorway. He is right. Her face is strained with worry. She’s also uncertain – probably because of the way he acted last night. Or was it this morning?
“Come in,” he says.
She looks him up and down. “Are you stoned?”
“It’s just Xanax. Though I should probably add some ‘E’ to it.” He sees her face and then scrunches his own. “Kidding. Geez, can’t you take a joke?”
He turns to get himself a pair of jeans, and then wonders ‘What the f**k?’ She’s seen him naked only like a thousand times.
She walks in and plunks herself down on the sofa. He seats himself in the armchair opposite her. His balls twitch, and he feels his c**k rising at the sight of her. Embarrassed, he grabs a cushion and covers his crotch with it. Maybe he ought to get dressed after all.