Scrupulous (An Affliction of Falling Novel Book 1) (15 page)

“See something you like?” Gavin’s accent purrs out.

“Why, yes I do. He’s quite handsome. I rather like it when he drops the American act and is himself, quite sexy,” I drawl.

“Hmmm, I hadn’t realized I had become that comfortable around you.” He seems unhappy with that fact.

“Is that such a bad thing?”

“I’m not sure. What do you plan to do with those?” He inclines his head towards my camera bag, trying to change the subject.

“Develop them and see what magic we made together.”

“Pure brilliance, I’d wager.”

It is hard to see him as the hardcore Dom with an interesting career choice when he is laying that lilt on me and looking this adorable.

Seagulls cry in the background as we jump to clean up, the wind having grown in force and scattering the few passerby who had been strolling through.

“Come on, love. You are frozen to the bone. Let’s go back to my place.”

The look I give him says more than I had wanted it to.

“Let me guess, another first?” That wicked smile plays on his lips once more.

“You could say that. Lead the way, stud.”

Chapter 9

Sorcha

Walking into Gavin’s flat, I am not quite sure what I was expecting. Perhaps a swanky penthouse with a private balcony or at least something more extravagant than this. It is a clean, wide-open space with simple furnishings in a converted old warehouse. A black, contemporary sectional and a few club chairs center around an impressive entertainment area, but that is about it, with the exception of a large, super-modern kitchen. No pictures or decorative accents. Not even a Saint Andrews cross or bits of kinky fuckery scattered about. Tossing his keys on a sideboard, he removes his shoes at the door and looks expectantly at me. Slipping off my Vans, I place them next to his.

“What?” he asks pointedly at the raised eyebrow I am giving him.

“I thought people only take their shoes off at the door when they have white carpet or new hardwood floors.” There is nothing but steel and cement around here.

“I prefer not to bring outside critters into my sacred man cave, thank you.”

I hold my hands up in surrender. “No biggy, pretty sure even my socks won’t be getting dirty here.” The damn concrete floors shined. They had been stained and coated with something to make it look more inviting. Very industrial.

“Can I get you anything to drink?”

“Water with ice? I can get it if you point me in the right direction.”

“Have a seat.” He motions to the couch without another word. Shrugging, I plop down on the cool leather.

“Wow, this is some TV. Is this where the gaming happens or are you more of an all-sports-access all-the-time kinda guy?” I nervously call over my shoulder as he tinkers in the open-concept kitchen. It is weird being in a guy’s place of residence. Aside from attending dorm parties, and the few male friends I have, this is new territory. I’ve always kept a strict hotel or public places only rule for my escapades; they had to be on neutral ground. And it has never been appealing to bring those activities into my own sacred space, let alone invade someone else’s; that felt too personal.

“Movies, news, and music mostly. Care to watch a movie? I can make some popcorn.”

How domestic of us. “Lunch and a movie in one afternoon? This must be a real date. Sure.” Giving him a simple yes makes me feel giddy and excited. What foreign emotions when pertaining to someone of the opposite sex.

Pulling me close, palming up his remote and propping the bowl of fresh popcorn between us, he pulls up a movie guide and starts thumbing through.

“What shall it be? Mafioso? Mystery? Comedy? Western?”

“No romance or corny B movies?” The crinkling of his nose in disgust is all the reply that is given. I can’t help but laugh out loud and curl into him further. “Ooh, how ‘bout that new James Bond one? Haven’t seen it yet,” I say, easing his worry as the arrow highlights that one on the guide. Pleased with my choice, he nods and soon the screen comes to life.

As our hands begin to scrape the bottom of the popcorn bowl and the movie draws to an end, I resentfully leave his warmth to refill my water and put the bowl up. Quickly completing the task and snuggling back up, I absentmindedly begin to chomp and play with an ice cube.

“Work that ice over any harder and I might start to get jealous.” His eyes seem transfixed by my mouth.

“I have an oral fixation.”

“Oh really?” It isn’t hard to tell where he is going with this.

“Uh-uh. Nope. Don’t even try; I don’t do that.”

His immediate flabbergasted, “What?” gives me hesitation. “Never?” He wickedly challenges, clearly still having a taste for all the firsts.

“Once, threw up all over the guy. It was horrifying.” Gavin’s laugh booms out and around his empty flat, adding a surround-sound effect to my humility. “Thanks a lot. Remind me to keep the confessions to a minimum,” I mutter.

“I’m sorry. Just sounds like a horrible and very un-happy ending for the guy.” He stifles another chuckle, attempting to escape.

“Of course you would be worried about that end of it.”

“Never cared to give it a go after that?”

“Nope, never met one I cared to try with.” Shit, why did I say that? It was as good as waving a red flag at a bull.

“Really? Countless men and only one has fucked that plump little mouth of yours?” He attempts to downplay the mockery in his tone, but I still catch it.

“It doesn’t help that the countless condoms all taste like shit as well, doing nothing for my gag reflex.” The sting is evident in my words, not taking kindly to his jab.

“Have you given my proposition more thought?” He leans in closer, lust and testosterone pulsing.

“I will consent after we get tested together, end of story.” I attempt to pull away, but he pins me in place with an arm around the shoulders.

“We are not children,” he murmurs as he nibbles on my ear lobe.

“Exactly my point. We are both far from innocent.” I refuse to give in.

“Fuck me, fine. God, I hate the fact that you have been with anyone else other than me,” he says in a soft tone as his fingertips trace my jaw.

“Gavin.” I sigh.

“No judgment, I swear. It is just that I can see myself falling in love for the first time with you.”

“Never been in love? What is this? A first for the big, bad Dom?” I scrabble with the humor aspect as anything deeper is too much. Jesus, this is too soon! We need to get as far as possible from that “L” word and any building tension before I lose it.

“And you have?”

“Once.” Fear that the confession would suck the air out of the room is quickly dismissed as he continues to trace feather-light kisses upon my face.

“That bad then? One and done?”

“He was focused on his rising career in surgery. It hurt, but it was a mutual parting. I threw myself head-first into my own studies and career goals, never caring to be detoured for anything deep and meaningful. Seemed like a waste of time when I knew in my heart that I really wasn’t ready to commit to anyone.”

“You are speaking in past tense. I am assuming that was all before we met.” His searing kiss lands desperately on my lips with a need that throws me off kilter. After a minute, he breaks away. “No answer?” He grins, knowing full and well what he is playing at.

“Nice try. But, honestly, yes. You have been a game changer,” I muster through the butterflies in my stomach, but can’t look him in the eyes, the intimacy proving too much.

I don’t get a chance to go any further as he takes me on the couch and sweetly makes love to me in the most steaming, vanilla way possible, no other words needed.

∞

It has been a few days since I last saw Gavin, and I don’t like it one bit. Sure, we both were busy with work but that few days we spent holed up in his loft making love, eating takeout, and watching old movies was a little slice of heaven. Surprisingly, Daz didn’t beckon his golden boy to oversee any issues at the time either, so it was completely uninterrupted.  Two whole days of living in his T-shirts, clouded in his cologne, talking for hours on end in between other activities. It is amazing how down to earth and human he is─ not to mention how much we have in common outside of the horizontal tango. He loves jazz, running, old black and white movies, and even admitted to being a dog person. And for all of his controlling drawbacks, he is a complete gentleman. He even insisted on pulling out my chair at the island seating in his kitchen every time. It was shocking at first, but I quickly got used to it. It was clear that Gavin knew how to treat a lady.

Alas, work eventually beckoned and pulled us away from that cocoon. Thursday through Saturday went by in a whirlwind of drunken debauchery at the club while Gavin and his henchmen lurked in the shadows keeping it under a relative amount of control. Gavin didn’t always stay at Tryst. He had to rotate through Daz’s multiple establishments around the bay, but he always had his finger on the pulse of each club. Even the Velvet Rope. Sunday was his assigned night there with the occasional pop in throughout the week for various appointments. I find myself not liking the idea of his affiliation with that place more and more. Simply for selfish reasons of course. But we agreed to not committing entirely to one another and semi-agreed to only having sex with one another─ but that didn’t extend past the simple technicalities of penis being inserted into vagina. He is still free to Dom his subs at the club and engage in other sexual acts for the benefit of his subs. And I am still free to see others if I want. Is that what we really agreed upon? The thought of him with anyone else makes me physically sick. In reality, I cannot fulfill that role completely for him as I don’t view myself as a true bottom. Sure, I enjoy the submissive role to a small point, but I only liked being told what to do in the bedroom and that only went so far. He has never asked me to explore the lifestyle deeper than what we have, and I haven’t offered either. This is still so new and I need to take it slow, analyze each new development, process before moving forward.

Unsettled by the churning in my stomach over my attempt to process and compartmentalize these emotions, I slip on my running shoes and out my front door for an afternoon jaunt before our Sunday ‘linner.’ The fresh bay air washes over me as my earbuds begin to play some 70’s funk for my warm up. The sun is peeking through the few straggling clouds, and it perks my spirit as I struggle with the incessant needs Gavin stimulates within my being. Bastard still has yet to give me his phone number, and I never think to ask for it when we are together.

Cutting across Haight St, I pick up my speed as the little back alley I use to cut through to Waller St. pitches upward, causing my quads and hamstrings to burn at the incline. Hitching a right, I am now inline to head into Buena Vista Park, which is where I need to be.

Alamo is closer to the apartment but I prefer the trails around Buena Vista. Plus, at the rate my mind is going, this is will need to be a long, hard run. As my thoughts race, my feet attempt to outrun the mental attack, taking me faster through the park. I am oblivious to anything else. Becoming engrossed in matching my breathing pattern to the physical demands insisted upon my body, the world becomes a blur. Every time the endorphin release washes away the droning of my mind, images of Gavin’s muscular, half naked, and tatted frame caressing another woman flashes through my vision field, forcing me to focus harder at the task at hand.

Harder, faster, breathe in, breathe out.  Perfect posture, perfect form. Dig deep, Sorcha, push past the pain.
My feet hit the next trail as I flip the music station over to some Beats Antique. Faint calls of other park goers to one another echo off, mixed with children laughing and a dog’s bark even further away.

As I crank up my iPhone’s volume, the world around me drowns out as I am encompassed by the sexy beats and my rhythmic breathing. Another runner comes up behind me and I move over to let them pass, only to realize that they are matching their pace with mine and running one step behind. Not wanting to get too freaked out too soon, I slow my pace a hair to see if it is coincidence.
Nope
. With personal safety in mind, I lace my fingers around the mace on my key ring in my pocket and slow to a fast paced walk before turning to face whoever is following me. Seeing who it is, with his big annoying smile, I remove my hand from the defense tool, shake my head at him, and take off. Fucking Gavin.

He easily keeps pace with me as if he is simply going for a stroll even though I am huffing and puffing at this point like a fat kid chasing cake, uphill.
Faster, harder, breathe in, breathe out.

Bastard takes stalking to a new level and as much as I want to be ticked off, it is getting kind of hot. Perhaps I am truly fucked in the head. Rounding the end of the trail head to exit the park, I pass a group of lingering teens all smoking up a storm. As much as it pains me to see anyone, let alone kids, smoking; my asthma is certainly more pissed about the matter. Within seconds, I am buckled over, gasping for air as the offending essence lingering in the air triggers my reactive airway.

“Fuck, Sorcha!” Gavin yells as he comes around to examine me with fretting hands. Worry verging on panic sets in on his face as I dig my rescue inhaler out of my little running pack in between gasps for air. He guides me over to a bench nearby, but I pull away and head in the opposite direction of the offending vapors and sit while I inhale the medication. “Do you need to go to the hospital or something?” He worriedly fusses over me, not knowing what to do.

“No!” I wheeze as I drop my elbows to my knees and hang my head in a breathing recovery position. It doesn’t take long for the meds to work; his soothing hand that has settled for rubbing up and down my back isn’t bad either. As I come back up to rest my head against the bench, fatigue takes over as the run and asthma attack has damn near wiped me out. And I haven’t even made it to the diner yet for the barrage of questions lying in wait. Let’s just say that everyone’s calls all week have slipped by me with a random text reply here and there.

“Jesus, what happened?” Gavin voice thunders through my hypoxic fog now that the crisis has been adverted.

“What happened? My asthma can’t take the hint that breath play is a hard limit for me,” I joke and wink at him. It takes him a minute for it to register before he gives me a half-hearted smile but no other reply. “So, stalker, still no phone number but your PI skills are impeccable. Did you slip a tracking device up my ass or something?” His face is priceless.