To Live Again (6 page)

Chapter Eight

When the alarm went off on Monday morning, it was not an anniversary reminder.

Time to go to work. This is not a drill.

I showered, shaved, and slipped out as quietly as I could. Rhett and Ethan didn’t have to be up as early as I did for work, so I did the best I could not to wake them.

Then it was onto the freeways and my new commute to the job I’d had for most of my adult life. So weird to be driving to the same place from a new place. Just another reminder that everything had changed, apparently.

Everything, that is, except traffic in Seattle. Clinging to my coffee cup, I crawled alongside all the other bleary-eyed commuters. Ten minutes—and about ten feet—down the freeway, I vowed to myself that once I was settled into my new place, I would find an alternate route. I didn’t care if it involved back roads through the worst neighborhoods—I was going to find a way to work that didn’t involve…this.

Stop and go. Stop and go. Stop and go. Finally, a couple of miles south of Seattle, the worst of it broke up, and I flew down the freeway at a breakneck speed of about thirty-five miles an hour. Better than nothing.

I trudged into the office about ten minutes early, working my way through the familiar maze of cubicles on autopilot before I made it to my own desk and dropped into my chair. The day started. Coworkers came by, sometimes for small talk, sometimes for work-related conversations.

Nobody seemed to notice that I was more bleary-eyed than usual. Then again, everyone at this place was half-dead on Monday mornings since we all had to be here obscenely early, so nothing short of a bullet hole or a missing limb was going to register with anyone. Fine by me. And thank God no one at work knew or remembered or cared that it was my anniversary over the weekend. I wasn’t even sure I could cope with a sympathetic “That must be hard” or “How are you holding up?” today.

The kids hadn’t called or e-mailed over the weekend either, and for that, I was thankful. They probably knew as well as I did that the best course of action was to let the day slip by as unnoticed as possible.

Easier said than done, though. It had gone without saying, I thought, that my twenty-fifth anniversary would
not
be spent struggling to stay awake or feeling guilty every time I moved and felt a twinge or an ache still lingering from my first ever night with another man. I sure as fuck never saw myself spending that particular afternoon with a dildo and a stack of books in preparation for that man’s dick.

Sitting at my desk, gazing at my familiar surroundings while I thumbed the bare spot where my wedding ring used to be, I took stock of the things that had changed and the things that hadn’t. The awards and certifications on the wall had been there so long, the fabric behind them was probably a few shades darker than the rest of the cube wall. The framed photos of me and Becky were gone. The ones with the kids remained, but I’d taken down the one of all five of us.

Little by little, the divorce was sinking in. I was in the process of moving out while Becky continued living in the home we’d shared for all those years. In theory, we should’ve sold it as part of the divorce settlement, but she’d inherited it from her parents, so it didn’t seem right to take it from her. So, I was moving out. The lease was signed, my stuff was in boxes, and soon I’d move into a new apartment in a new neighborhood with a mix of old and new furniture, dishes, decorations…

I sighed, overwhelmed just thinking about it all. An earthquake couldn’t have rearranged my life like this divorce had. And yet some things hadn’t changed. It was funny how it was the things that had stayed the same that felt the weirdest. Missing pictures? Fine. Body twinging and aching from sex with someone I’d just met? Cool. A commute from a different place via totally different roads? Whatever.

But aside from the missing pictures, everything here felt exactly the same, and that left me off balance. Like a lone building still standing in the middle of miles of devastation, they may as well have been signposts reminding me of what used to be.

“Greg?”

I shook myself and looked up as Liz, a coworker, leaned into my cube. “Hey.”

She tilted her head. “You okay? You were kind of staring into space.” Her brow pinched slightly. She knew what was going on in my life—everyone did, thanks to the office grapevine.

“Yeah, yeah.” I laughed. “Just crunching some numbers in my head.” Eh, close enough.

“Oh.” She straightened, grimacing a little. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. Here.” She handed me a stack of folders. “Could you have a look at these before this afternoon’s meeting?”

“Sure. No problem.” I glanced at them, comprehending absolutely nothing on the handwritten sticky note on top, and smiled up at her. “I’ll get on them right now.”

“Thanks.” She smiled hesitantly, holding my gaze as if she were debating continuing the conversation. Fortunately, whatever was on her mind, she let it go, thanked me again, and left my cube.

I set the folders on my desk, took a deep breath, and turned back to my computer screen. Life was going on. This was a good thing. My job was the same as it ever was, and the rest of my world would settle into place soon enough.

And one of the new things in my life was definitely more distracting than the rest.

Sailo.

The hair on my arms stood on end. Sex was nothing new, but that kind of sex? With someone who was as patient and enthusiastic as he’d been? Someone who, at least for that night, wanted me? God, yes.

Especially since yesterday, I’d given myself a solo intro to the kind of sex he’d promised. And I’d liked it. Hell, I could still feel it. Every time I moved, the vague soreness reminded me of the toy that had gone where no man had gone…yet.

I grinned as I started perusing the e-mails that had been stacking up during my daydream. I could not get him out of my head, so I didn’t try. Was it just the novelty of a man finding me attractive and introducing me to a world I’d only fantasized about? Or was it
him
?

Either way, the conclusion was the same—I had to see him again.

And
soon
.

* * * * *

After slogging through my day and crawling “home,” I let myself in through Ethan and Rhett’s front door. I was ready to collapse and catch up on some sleep, but if I didn’t see Sailo again, I was pretty sure I’d go out of my mind.

Before leaving work, I’d sent him a text to see if he was free. Now that I was out of the car, I pulled my phone out of my pocket, and—yes! He’d responded.

At Wilde’s tonight. 7-close. Show is over at 11:30. Meet me at the bar at 12?

I grimaced. Midnight? On a work night? Probably not a good idea, or I’d be even worse off tomorrow than I’d been today. Though I could call in sick, I supposed.

Then again, my attorney had said there would be hearings and meetings throughout the divorce process. It would probably behoove me to save my time off until everything was finalized, just in case.

Well. There would be other nights. So, hoping my disappointment didn’t come through, I wrote back:

Have to be on the road to work at 5. Later this week?

For reasons I couldn’t quite explain, I thought he’d tell me to just forget it and that would be the end of it. Apparently I was really in denial about this guy being interested in me.

Thank you for the self-esteem boost, divorce. Really needed that at this point in my life.

My own thought made me roll my eyes. Without the divorce—dented self-esteem and all—I wouldn’t be making arrangements to sleep with Sailo anyway, so whatever.

My phone buzzed.

Free Wed or Thurs?

So much for my stupid ego and its insistence that Sailo was just humoring me. We texted back and forth a few times, and settled on meeting for drinks on Wednesday night. Then he had to get ready for work, and I busied myself making something to eat.

I was restless as hell, though. Tired from a long day, but twitchy. More than once, I reread our texts and wondered if I could survive tomorrow if I did in fact meet Sailo after his show. It was a stupid thought. I’d be miserable tomorrow, and probably fall asleep halfway through tonight anyway.

Stupid thought or no, it refused to leave me alone. Sailo and I had made arrangements to meet on Wednesday, but damn it, I couldn’t wait to see him. Not two more days, anyway.

Oh, to hell with it.

I changed into something more presentable, grabbed my wallet and keys, and headed out before I could talk myself out of it. With my heart thumping against my ribs, I drove through Capitol Hill, down Broadway, right to that familiar neon sign above the swanky club with tinted windows.

Wilde’s had its own parking lot, unlike a lot of places in the neighborhood, and apparently they weren’t that busy this early in the week. I found a spot near the front and walked inside.

After I’d paid the cover and made it past the bouncers, I continued into the lounge, which was practically empty tonight.

As I approached the bar, Kieran saw me and smiled. “Hey!” He shook my hand over the bar. “Guess the place didn’t scare you off?”

“No, not quite. I’m actually meeting somebody.” Sort of. He didn’t exactly know I was coming. Would he be…okay with it? Oh fuck. I should’ve texted him.

“Can I get you something to drink?” Kieran asked.

What’s the strongest thing you’ve got?

“Um…” I definitely didn’t need any alcohol, but something cold sounded good. “Just a bottle of water. I’m, uh, driving.” Probably soon. After Sailo saw me and asked what the hell I was doing here. What the hell
was
I doing here? Was this desperation? Would I look like an idiot, showing up two days before we’d agreed to meet?

Kieran handed me a water, and after I’d paid him, I took a couple of deep swallows. He and I made some small talk since the club wasn’t yet loud enough to keep conversations from happening.

Maybe I should’ve gone for some booze. I was way too wound up to be here without some liquid courage. I hadn’t even seen Sailo yet, and nerves were already fucking with my head.

Then movement from the corner of my eye caught my attention, and I turned my head.

Yeah, that cold bottle of water wasn’t going to do much. Not with that gorgeous dark-eyed deejay making his way across the dance floor.

I glanced across the bar. Kieran was gone, leaving me here. Alone. With nowhere to go and no one to—

“Hey! You’re here!” Sailo put a hand on my waist and kissed me.

It took a second to register that we were kissing in public. Out in the open.

But hell…it was Wilde’s. There was almost no one here, and those who were probably didn’t notice us, especially since they were doing a lot more than kissing.

“I didn’t think you were coming,” he said. “What changed your mind?”

I think you know.

I gulped. “Well, I…” I shrugged, probably not coming across as even remotely nonchalant. “You said you had a show tonight, so…”

He held my gaze, and the corner of his mouth lifted. He saw right through me, didn’t he?

Then he looked at his watch and back at me. “We’ve got some time if you want to finish that”—he nodded toward my water bottle—“someplace quieter.”

I glanced down at the water, which was mostly empty. “Actually, I think I’m done with it.” I screwed on the top and set it on the bar.

Sailo’s grin came completely to life. He took my hand and tugged it gently, and as I followed him, he added, “Come on.”

We hurried out of the lounge, past the glowing exit sign and into the back. I knew exactly where we were going, and my heart was already at full speed before we’d reached stairs, before I even saw the VIP LOUNGE—PASS REQUIRED sign.

At the top of the steps, his keys jingled. “I’m glad you came,” he said as he unlocked the door and waved me in. “Sorry I couldn’t get the night off.”

“I’m surprised they have you here.” I stepped into the lounge. “It’s a Monday night.”

“Ugh. I know.” He rolled his eyes, toeing the door shut behind us. “But there’s a private party coming in soon. Normally, if I’m working on a Monday, it’s a freelance gig.” Then he reached for me, curved his hand around my neck, and kissed me again. “Enough about work,” he murmured. “God, I want you…”

I pressed my hand against his lower back so he could feel my hard-on through our pants. “Likewise.”

He grinned against my lips. “You’re not as nervous as you were last time.”

“I don’t know about that.” I kissed him, then added, “Still nervous. Especially since…” The words died on my tongue. How nervous was I? Nervous as fuck, definitely.

He met my gaze, concern creasing his forehead. “Since, what?”

I swallowed. Those nerves got the best of me, and I shook my head, drawing him back in. “This is just new. All of it.”

“New is fun,” he breathed, and pressed his lips to mine.

Couldn’t argue with that.

I pressed harder against him. He groaned, deepening the kiss. My head was spinning, and damn it, I wasn’t close enough to him, so I shoved him back against the door, and we kept right on making out, and I suddenly didn’t care that we were here instead of on our way to his apartment. After fantasizing about him for days, imagining all the things we could do once we were together again, I didn’t want to wait another minute either. Fuck. I wanted him naked. I wanted skin against tattooed skin. I wanted his dick rubbing against mine or sliding between my lips or moving inside me.

What the hell
were
we waiting for?

Well, besides his show. I supposed we didn’t have the time or necessities to actually fuck here, never mind before he had to be onstage. Everything I’d read in those books said the first time couldn’t be rushed. And I didn’t want it to be rushed. I wanted to enjoy it. Savor it. Really feel what it was like to be fucked by a man.

The thought of him pushing his cock into me sent a shudder right through me, and I broke the kiss with a gasp.

“What?” He blinked. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I…” I licked my lips. “Just really, really turned on.”