Thank you guys for all the reviews/favourites/alerts! We hit 100 reviews this week which is amazing, so a special thanks to all you who review!
Thank you to KarenEC who pre-reads for me. And Becca helped me with my Newcastle references in this chapter, so thanks to her, too :)
Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
It's a sunny day in Newcastle, which is something of a rarity, I'm led to believe.
Masen's meeting starts at nine, so I make sure I'm in the hotel restaurant by seven and eating a huge breakfast. We leave here tonight, and I'm not sure if we will have a chance for an evening meal before we go, so I'm taking no chances.
I can see the lobby from where I'm sitting, so I don't bother to wait for Masen by reception. I much prefer the comfort of the restaurant to sitting amongst the crazy flood of people heading out for the day.
The waiter comes over, and I ask for a couple of coffees to take out. It's better safe than sorry with Masen, and I'm not sure if breakfast was included with our rooms. Either way, he is paying for it, so I'd best give him a little something in return.
I let Masen wait in the lobby just long enough for him to start getting flustered, before heading out. I meet him with a smile on my face and his drink held out to him.
He takes it from me, sipping it immediately, "Thanks, Carlisle."
My reaction to him saying my name is as strong as it was the first time, and I head towards the car in an attempt to hide it from him.
I turn the air conditioning on in the car, even though it is largely unnecessary – the day isn't that nice. I need to get rid of some of the heat in my cheeks though, and Masen inside settling the bill is the perfect chance to do it.
Once we are on our journey, Masen is chatty. I was expecting him to be on his phone the whole time again, but I'm not complaining. We make small talk about the weather, my plans for the day, and what the arrangements for collecting him are.
"Did you enjoy breakfast?"
I hope he's not angry. I'd forgotten he would see my breakfast on the bill when he paid.
"Yeah, it was good, I definitely needed it. I hope it's ok that I ate, I can pay for it if you want." Knowing the places Masen chooses to stay in, it probably cost about a hundred pounds for the food or something ridiculous like that, so I'm hoping he says no.
"No, it's fine. I don't want you collapsing on the job. I always seem to be too busy to eat in the mornings, but I'll have to see if I can join you at the next place. Especially if the breakfasts are as good as you say they are."
I'm not sure if dealing with Masen first thing in the morning is ideal, but I can't help feeling pleased at the prospect of extra time with him.
"I can introduce you to British breakfasts, although I think yours are more exciting than ours."
He laughs, "I usually just drink coffee, so I'm guessing food is a better idea than that. As long as I get a coffee too, obviously."
God forbid the man doesn't get his caffeine hit. I can't even imagine how grumpy he would be without it.
We make our way through the heavy traffic towards the centre of Newcastle, and I feel I can relax when we are only a few minutes away from the building, with twenty to spare. Driving in rush hour stresses me out.
Masen has been quiet for a while, and so it takes me by surprise when he leans forward, putting his arm over the top of the seat.
His hand is on my shoulder.
His hand is on my shoulder and I'm fairly sure I've forgotten how to turn the steering wheel.
I just about manage to resist leaning my head to the side so his hand is touching my cheek. Just.
Flicking my eyes to his in the mirror, I see his smirk, and he asks "Do you think you can cope without me for a whole day? It's a long one today."
It really was, considering we also have a three hour-drive after he finishes. He isn't due out of meetings until after six this evening. We need to squeeze in a meal, too.
I smile back at him, though. "I'm a big boy. I'm sure I can entertain myself for a while."
He flushes slightly, and leans back in his seat. I immediately miss the feel of him so close to me, but it isn't really a practical way to travel.
We finally pull up to a grey, nondescript building which will be his prison for the next nine hours or so. Suddenly, being able to get out and about for the day doesn't seem like such a bad idea. I leave my car at the car park attached to the concrete jail, and set off on foot.
~-DTD-~
I'm pretty sure my balls are about to freeze off.
In all my 'let's enjoy the fresh air' wisdom, I hopped on a river cruise. It might be a nice day, but it's still March, and it's quite chilly. Ridiculously, I opted for a three-hour trip, which takes us down to the sea and back, just in case I wasn't cold enough.
Having spent most of the trip drinking hot drinks and ignoring the view, I decide I should probably go and take some pictures.
Definitely should have invested in some gloves. And a scarf.
I snap a few pictures, including one of me looking completely windswept with a bright red nose, before giving in and going back to where it's warm.
Why do they run cruises in fucking March in Newcastle anyway?
I don't even like boats.
I check my watch and figure Masen must be breaking for lunch soon, so I text him.
Any idea when you will be finished? – Carlisle
He doesn't reply straight away, so I busy myself sorting some photos to send through to my sister. I check in with Tanya, too, aware that I never replied to her email the other night.
Hi Tanya. All well here. Sorry for the delayed reply – Masen is keeping me busy. No disasters, yet. – Carlisle.
That is probably as true as I can make it. I'm sure she doesn't want to know that I have made Masen question his sexuality, or that he has made me question my sanity. Maybe I should go and stand on deck for a while; the wind might blow some sense into my brain.
Finally, finally, the boat pulls back into the dock, and I walk off as fast as I can manage with a slight wobble – I definitely don't have sea legs – and head to the nearest pub for a pint.
I flick through a newspaper while I'm there – deliberately choosing one with no real business pages – and notice there is some football on tonight. I decide that Masen needs to be introduced to that particular English love, and spend the afternoon hunting down a sports bar that he would eat in.
While I am searching, I finally get a text from him. It's brief; clearly he is busy today. I guess only having one day to sort anything will do that to you.
"Be here by six-thirty. We've had no time for a lunch break because these people are morons. We need to eat before we drive."
Well, at least I haven't wasted my afternoon. I'm not sure what sort of mood he will be in when I get him, though. I hunt down a slightly more posh restaurant just in case he flips at having to go to a sports bar. He wants to see new stuff, and while I'd love to drag him to the hotel in Manchester and show him a whole host of new things, I'm not sure it would be entirely appreciated. A sports bar is a safer option.
There are a couple more hours to kill before Masen will be done, and I'm stuck in town, so I head to a museum to keep warm; there is a chill setting in as it gets later in the day and I'm fed up of wandering around outdoors. So much for not wanting to be cooped up; give me a roof any day.
I spend most of my time at the museum not looking at any of the exhibits, but staring out of the windows in the cafe instead. I resist any food, knowing I'm eating with Masen soon, but I don't manage to resist the lure of coffee; I've got a long drive this evening, so I have an excuse.
It starts to rain as I leave to collect Masen, and I curse myself for trusting that the weather will stay the same all day. I don't have a hood on my coat, my hair is plastered to my head with water by the time I get to Masen's building. He's going to go ballistic when he realises we need to walk to where we're eating.
I bet he looks fantastic in the rain, though.
An umbrella may be an idea, though, so I pop up to the car and grab one from the boot, before heading down to drip all over the lobby of the building.
He is out shortly after half-past six, and suitably horrified that we are walking.
"But it's raining."
I've shown him the umbrella; I don't know why he's still bitching.
"You want the whole English experience, we deal with crap weather. All the damn time. We'd have to park the car so far away anyway that we might as well just walk from here. It's not far."
"But... it's raining."
"It's only water. It won't kill you. Well, unless you're the Wicked Witch of the West?"
I'm starting to think he might be, to be honest.
He sighs, and buttons his coat right up over his mouth. He looks like a five-year old and I laugh at his grumpy face. For someone who commands so much respect from people he works with, he can be an idiot.
We walk briskly to the bar. I end up holding the umbrella, despite Masen being taller. I may occasionally let it drift so he gets a little wet.
I was right; he looks amazing in the rain.
I think he gets a bit of a shock when we arrive at the bar, and I have to shove him inside a little so we're not blocking the doorway as he looks round, his fingers poised on his top button, their job forgotten, momentarily.
"Is this okay? You wanted different. This is different."
Why do I care so much that he likes what I have chosen for us to do?
Masen nods, and leads us over to a table which is far enough away from the bar and TV screens that we can talk without shouting. It's impossible to get away from the chatter completely, but as long as he's comfortable, that's the main thing.
I can still see the TV screens, which is also important.
He finally takes his damn coat off, grimacing as he runs his hand though his damp hair. I don't even bother to pretend to look sorry; I don't think I could pull it off convincingly anyway.
I push a menu in his direction and then change my mind.
"What?"
"You have to choose something you wouldn't normally choose. Something that's local. Or at least something you wouldn't get at home."
He frowns at me, and I start to wonder if this was a good idea.
"For fuck's sake. Why?"
"Different. That's the game this week."
He stares at me for a minute, and I'm fairly sure he is debating whether or not to leave. He reaches over the table and pulls the menu back to himself.
"Fine. But if it's horrible, you're paying. And buying me something from somewhere else."
Because the man can't afford to buy more than one meal.
"Okay, whatever. You'll like it though, I didn't steer you wrong with the chip butty."
He cracks a smile for the first time since I picked him up.
"That's true."
While he focuses on the menu, I let my gaze drift to the TV, ignoring his grumbles about some of our food being weird.
"Why are they selling Yorkshire Pudding as a main course?"
I finally tear my eyes away from the team news, and look at Masen.
"Because that's what it is."
The menu is upside down, but I can spot a picture of one, so I point it out to him. Usually I would encourage conversation with him but I really want to see who has been picked for this game.
"Why is it called pudding, then?"
Jesus.
"I don't know. I didn't name it. Yorkshire is a big county, maybe they just demanded it was called a pudding and everyone else gave in. I would recommend it, though. It's lovely. With the braised beef and Guinness. I'd say you were encompassing the whole of the British Isles with that one."
"Does that mean I'm off the hook for the rest of the week?"
He looks adorably hopeful. As if I am torturing him by making him eat our food.
"Nope, sorry. 'Different' runs all week long. Speaking of which, what do you want to drink?"
He goes to say something and then stops himself. I grin at him and he starts again, "Whatever's local."
"Right answer. Points to you."
I go up to the bar to order. I get myself a burger which will probably piss Masen off, but I'm enjoying this game too much to stop it now. His local drink is Newcastle Brown Ale; you can't get much more local than that.
The guy next to me at the bar starts chatting about the football, filling me in on the team news while the barman is pouring our pints. We trade predictions for the outcome of the match, and I promise to buy him a drink if he is right. He won't be. He goes for an away win, which will never happen. My money is safe, which is lucky given Masen's demand for food if he hates his.
The barman hands me our drinks and a numbered inflatable rugby ball which will mark our table. I shove it under my arm and try not to spill the pints on the way back to the table.
As I slide back into my seat, the rugby ball falls out from under my arm and rolls over to Masen. He picks it up and looks at it, before shaking his head and placing it at the end of our table.
"Never had a novelty table number before?" I can't help myself.
"Not that I remember. Most places I go to they come to your table to take your order."
Why does that not surprise me?
"Ah well, there you go then. Another different thing for your day. You're so adventurous, Edward."
He laughs, rolling his eyes at me and turning to face the bar, and the TVs. The smile drops from his face as he turns, though, and I wonder what is up with him.
Masen being Masen, it's not long before I find out.
"Did you know that guy at the bar?"
Oh, Masen. Poor, jealous Masen. I must not laugh.
"No, why?"
"You just seemed friendly, that's all. I wondered if you knew him."
God forbid you ever have a friendly conversation with someone. To be fair, it doesn't seem to be something Masen is accustomed to.
"We were talking about the match. It was just friendly banter, trash talking each other a bit while I was waiting for the drinks." I nod towards his, which is untouched, "Are you not going to try it?"
He pulls the glass towards him, it grates against the wooden table and I cringe a little. He sees my reaction, and picks it up. I don't know what he thinks is in the drink, but I've never seen anyone bring a drink to their lips so slowly in my life.
Finally, he takes a sip, and then a little more, and eventually drinks it like a normal human being.
Nodding, he puts the glass back down, "It's not bad."
"See? Trust me."
He smiles a little, and then turns his attention back to the TV.
"So what's going on then?"
"Champions League. The best teams in Europe play each other for a cup every season."
"Soccer, right?"
The game hasn't started yet, so he can be forgiven for not knowing which sport it was, but I cringe at the term.
"Football. But yeah."
He nods, ignoring my correction, "I never really got into it. It's not that big at home. I'm more of a baseball fan."
I laugh. "It's almost a requirement of being a citizen of England that you like football. But we get some American sports on TV too, they're good, you just need to speed them up a bit."
He laughs, and proceeds to explain to me why exactly American sports are played at exactly the right pace, and I tune him out and watch the football while pretending to listen to him.
Our food arrives, and the rugby ball that Masen finds so offensive is removed from our table.
He looks at his food with disdain, and I wonder when he will just accept that I am right and take my word for things being nice. I ignore him, like I used to do when my nephews start fussing over food, and eventually he picks at it on his own.
Maybe treating him like a child is the best way to go. He likes telling everyone what to do, he hates walking anywhere, and has temper tantrums when things don't go his way. I don't need earplugs and beers, I fucking need Supernanny.
As is the way things go, he starts to enjoy his food, and hasn't even bothered to complain about me eating a burger and chips. I have one eye on the football, and we are both so damn hungry that we don't even make an attempt at conversation while we eat.
I push my plate away from me, absolutely stuffed, just as the home team go one-nil down. The guy from the bar grins at me and pretends to drink an imaginary pint to remind me of our deal. I shake my head at him, pointing at my watch and he laughs and shrugs. There's still plenty of time for me to win the bet yet.
Turning back to Masen, I see he has stopped eating, too. His eyes are going from me, back to the bar, and back again and I give him a half grin.
"I'm losing our bet," I explain.
He raises his eyebrows, but says nothing else, pushing his food around the plate for a while before giving up on it.
"Should we get going?" He drains the rest of his pint after he asks, and I glance at my empty glass and my watch. It's gone eight o'clock; it probably is time to get going. We won't get there until half-eleven as it is.
I nod, and he disappears off to the toilets, while I grab the guy at the bar – who finally introduces himself as Ben - a drink. I won't be able to see the bet out, and I'm fairly convinced he won't win it, but I don't want to go back on my word. We chat a little at the bar, but we are interrupted by Masen who claps his hand down onto my shoulder.
"We'd better get going."
Offering Ben an apologetic smile, I agree with Masen and we head out. The weather is still awful, but he can carry the umbrella if he's going to be such a girl about things. I can deal with wet hair.
He surprises me at the car, by sitting in the passenger seat. He's clearly exhausted, and I thought he would spend the journey crashed out on the back seat, but when I mention that to him he shakes his head, "No, if you're awake I'll stay awake, too. Keep you company."
Twenty minutes into the journey he is sawing logs next to me and I can't hear the radio over him. Fucking hell. So much for keeping me company.
He wakes as we come off the motorways and slow down through Manchester. He is apologetic but I can't blame him. I would have slept if I could have.
We're staying at the Hilton in Manchester, and I have never been happier to see a bed in my life. I make quick arrangements with Masen for the next day, and wish him a good night's sleep, before getting to my room as fast as possible.
The bed is heaven, and I am half asleep when my phone beeps.
"Sorry for falling asleep on you. I had been looking forward to our three-hour trip, too. Thanks for all the new stuff today. Same again tomorrow? – Edward"
I know I need to reply. I wish he could say this stuff to my face, and not when I am half asleep in bed and the phone light feels blinding.
"I'll do my best. I won't make you watch football tomorrow; we can do something more fun. Night – Carlisle"
~-DTD-~
I drop Masen off at work the next morning, drive back to the hotel and go straight back to bed. He has a fairly long day today, and Manchester has nothing to offer me that's more appealing than sleep right now.
The beeping of my phone drags me out of my dreams, and I grab it to see a text from Tanya thanking me for the postcard.
Well, I say thanking.
"Carlisle. It's always nice to have a reminder that you are a long way away from me, and not causing any trouble. Speaking of which, I have emailed Masen as a courtesy to see how the trip is going. Anything you need to tell me before he replies?"
Jesus. He could say any number of things.
I don't really know what to reply, so I go with something a bit jokey. At least then if he complains, I haven't claimed it's all brilliant or something.
"I have been the good boy you know and love me to be. Carlisle"
She's clearly working hard, as my phone beeps again within the minute.
"That's what I was afraid of."
~-DTD-~
I've done absolutely nothing productive with my day. I should feel guilty, but I've been racing round like an idiot the last few days, and it's been good to have a lazy day.
Tapping my fingers on the steering wheel, I glance up to see if there's any sign of Masen. We agreed on a six p.m. pick up, and it's now twenty-past and he still hasn't arrived. We haven't planned anything for the evening; I think we might just stay at the hotel if he's okay with it. I really can't be bothered finding somewhere Masen-esque to eat, and I doubt he would deal with pub food two days in a row.
I pass some time looking up the hotel restaurant menus on my phone. I'm pretty sure they will pass muster with Masen, and I can pretend I didn't decide we can go there within the last five minutes now I know a few details about it.
God knows what the hold-up is, and I don't know what sort of mood he will be in when he finally gets out of the meeting. At least if I've made a vague plan it's one less thing he needs to worry about.
The internet drags me in, as it always does, and I only realise Masen is out when I hear the car door open behind me.
"Too busy to even get my door now? I see how it is. Maybe I should pop that in my email to Tanya."
I spin round in my seat. He is smiling. Thank fuck.
"Sorry. The internet, you know how it is."
I do feel bad. I hate not doing my job properly.
Masen shrugs, "It's fine. I was late; you had to distract yourself from missing me somehow."
He's in a cracking mood; the meeting must have gone really well. Wow.
I drive us back to the hotel while he chatters on about people knowing what's good for their business and various other things I can't bring myself to care about.
"Where are we eating tonight? What's local for Manchester?"
I have no idea.
"I thought we'd just stay at the hotel tonight. The restaurant has some good local-ish food, and you can let your stomach recover from eating at a bar yesterday."
And I can drink.
He nods, "That sounds okay to me. I'll just shower and change. Meet you in the bar at seven-thirty?"
I agree, and he jumps out of the car and is gone before I've handed the keys over to the valet.
The lift takes forever to arrive, and I curse Masen for dashing off. There's less than thirty minutes before he wants to meet, and I could do with having a drink before spending the entire evening with him. He still puts me slightly on edge; I can't ever forget that he is a client, and a client who is insistent that he is straight, no less. I have to tread carefully around him, and I hate being on my guard all the damn time.
So a drink would be nice, just to relax a little.
I just about make it, finishing a drink as Masen strolls in.
He looks amazing, he's still wearing a suit, but no tie and the top couple of buttons on his shirt are undone. I'm not sure if my admiration is completely blatant, but his cheeks are pink when he reaches me, making him look even more delicious.
He declines a drink, and we walk straight through to the restaurant.
Our waiter is attentive and we have drinks and our food ordered within a matter of minutes.
"I emailed Tanya back about you." Masen smirks at me and takes a sip of his drink.
"Did you tell her I'm not opening doors for you and making you walk to places in the rain?"
"Not to mention making me eat weird British food." He will never stop complaining about that, which is odd considering how much he enjoys what I'm introducing him to.
"Essentially, I am torturing you," I agree.
He laughs, "And that is basically what I've said in the email."
I nod at him, "I expected nothing less."
He fiddles with his napkin for a while, not making eye contact with me. I sip at my drink and look around the restaurant and the other patrons, wondering where they work and why they're here. I wonder if they know I'm not really one of them. It's weird to not feel completely out of place somewhere like this.
"I said it was all going well." Masen has been quiet for a couple of minutes, and I glance up at him in surprise. "To Tanya," he clarifies. "I told her I was more than happy with how things were going. Just so you know."
"Thank you. I'm glad you think so." I really am grateful, he does hold my job in his hands, Tanya would kill me if I fucked this up. Knowing he is happy with how things are going makes me pleased for myself, too.
Our food arrives. Masen has chosen Welsh lamb with various trimmings, including Jersey potatoes, and he points out that he is covering some of the places he missed out with yesterday's meal. I have a steak, which is absolutely beautiful. I really could get used to this fine dining experience.
Once again, the food renders us silent as we just enjoy it.
We share a bottle of wine that Masen chose, as we eat. I am probably drinking a little too much, but Masen is playing host and refilling my glass for me, and I'm not about to say no.
As we finish our meals, we talk about what we've done throughout the day. He's been busy completing deals and acting like he rules the world, and I grudgingly admit to him that I have essentially done nothing throughout the day.
"Seriously, nothing?" He looks askance at my admission.
"Well, I drove you to work, picked you up, and chose where to eat. Oh and I text Tanya a couple of times to let her know how much of a pain in the arse you are. But yeah, apart from that, not a lot. I'm working seven days in a row thanks to you; it's not really my usual style."
He doesn't reply for a while, I think he's trying to decide whether I've just completely insulted him. I haven't, but it could come across like that. I think by now he gets my humour, though.
In the end, he lets it go. Looking at his watch, he grimaces and apologises to me, "I have to go and make a few calls."
I nod, sorry that our evening is cut short.
We travel in the lift together, his suite is a few floors up from me and I wish him a good night before I step out.
Back in my room, I strip until I'm just in my boxers, fed up of wearing suits and ties and shirts. Lying back on the bed, I flick through the TV channels. As usual there is fuck-all on.
Having been so pleased to have a day to myself, I am now kind of sick of the walls of my hotel room and wishing I had used my day more productively.
I decide to shower to kill some time, it's still a bit early for me to give in and go to bed.
My shower is cut short, however, by my phone ringing, and I almost kill myself rushing to get it - skidding across the bathroom floor with my wet feet – and make it to my phone in time for it to ring off. I check the call log.
It was Masen.
I call him back straight away. I don't even get a 'hello.'
"I was surprised you didn't answer straight away, I thought you were doing nothing for the whole day."
"Maybe doing nothing includes not answering your phone calls."
He laughs, trailing off to leave an awkward pause.
"What's up?" I had to ask, much as I want to make him get some balls and talk to me –considering he called me - I fucking hate awkward silences.
"I was wondering if... if you wanted to come up to my suite. I've made the calls I needed to, but I don't feel like going back down to the bar again."
I'm surprised at his question, and it takes me a second to reply.
"Yeah, sounds good. I've just showered." Fuck. I didn't mean that the way it came out. "I mean, I just need to dry off and get dressed, and then I'll be up."
He coughs, and gives me the number of his suite, before ringing off.
I pull on some loose fitting jeans and a t-shirt. I'm not bothering with suits; if he wants me at ten at night then he's getting me in comfy clothes. I grab my key card and stow it in my pocket before heading up to his suite.
He hands me a whiskey before I'm even through the door.
I don't refuse.
He's got some news channel on the TV and we sit in the lounge of his suite. One of his phone calls was to Emmett, and he laughs as he tells me about how impressed Emmett was that I got him into a sports bar.
"He's convinced I'll go out with him when I'm home now. I usually refuse. I'm not adverse to the idea as long as it's only once every few months I guess. I think he'll be a very different companion to you, though."
"How come?" I'm guessing he doesn't have homoerotic feelings about Emmett. That would probably change things.
Masen smiles, and it's so nice to see him thinking fondly of someone he works with. "Emmett is a bit of a jock. Do you have them here?"
"Not under that umbrella – oh, sorry if the mention of umbrellas brings back a bit of trauma from last night." I can't help myself. Alcohol makes me mouthy. "But we have the equivalent. I know what you mean, at least."
"Yeah, well watching sports with him is a total nightmare. So I've resisted so far. Maybe I will join him for a few not-important games. Mind you, not that many games are not important to Emmett."
I don't know if the first impression I got of Edward was so wrong, or if he's really changing this week, but this guy, who is laughing and joking, talking to me about work and changing the way he acts at home, is rapidly working his way into my head. I like hanging out with him; I'm going to be sad when the week ends.
He tells me more about working with Emmett, and I'm glad he has someone like that around to keep his feet on the ground. I think Emmett pisses him off a lot of the time, but his presence is vital to keep Masen balanced, and Masen knows it.
My glass is refilled a couple more times, as is his. He is sitting closer and closer to me on the sofa, his knee is brushing against my thigh and my brain is completely fuzzy.
He is quiet, but the silence doesn't bother me as I rest my head against the back of the sofa. The TV is murmuring in the background, and I listen to the international news.
Opening my eyes, I almost startle at how close Masen is to me. His face is so close to mine I can feel his breath against my neck.
He closes his eyes and pulls in a deep breath, and begins to speak, with his usual disclaimer "I'm not gay."
"Okay." At this moment I don't care what he feels the need to say to make himself feel better. I want to know what he actually has to say.
I turn to face him, and we are so, so close. My hand comes to rest on his knee, only gently, but I needed more of a connection with him.
He swallows nervously, and moves even closer to me, starting to speak again.
"I just... I want to try it. Just a kiss. I need to see what it's like."
The pressure is on; this is the kiss he will judge all gay kisses on. I don't want to put him off. I haven't even kissed him yet and I'm fairly sure I will want to do it again, so this one needs to be good.
I take a quick sip of my drink, and then put my glass down on the table. I don't need a spilt drink ruining everything.
My hand runs up over his arm and into his hair, and I press our foreheads together, "Is this ok?" Masen's breathing is quick, but he nods, moving his head a little so our lips meet.
He is tentative, nothing like the demanding businessman I have come to know, and it takes me by surprise. I take control of the kiss, not pushing it, but moving it along. I don't want to scare him, but, fuck, I really need to kiss him properly. My hands tighten slightly in his hair, and I want him to take control, to figure out that it's something he wants.
He groans and pushes me back against the arm of the sofa. He is half lying over me and, while his hands are firmly planted on the cushion either side of me, he has definitely taken over and I am more than happy about that.
His tongue runs against mine and it's my turn to groan. He doesn't push it any further than that, and I try to keep myself under control. I don't want to fuck this up because, judging by the way he kisses, I really want to see what else he has to offer. Even if it's not tonight.
Eventually he pulls back, and rests his head in the crook of my neck. His breathing is still heavy, and I run my hands up and down his back, trying to concentrate on anything except grinding my erection into his thigh for a bit of relief.
I cringe as the news channel repeats the news at the top of the hour; it's midnight, and I really should be sleeping. I don't want to move, though.
Masen makes the decision for me, yawning loudly. I laugh and we sit up properly. I stretch my arms up, immediately regretting that thanks to the wave of dizziness that hits me.
When it has passed, I stand up to leave. Masen still hasn't said anything and I don't know what the right thing is to say in this circumstance.
He stands up too, and pulls me into a hug. It takes me by surprise, but I recover quickly, not wanting to lose the opportunity to wrap my arms around him. I press a kiss to his neck, and he shivers a little in response.
I head for the door, tuning back to him before I open it.
"Thanks for this evening, Edward. I had fun."
I sound like a fucking moron. The man has kissed my brain cells away.
He smiles shyly at me.
"Me too. We'll have to do it again tomorrow."
There is a pregnant pause, and I nod, ready to leave, when he speaks again.
"All of it. We'll have to do it all again tomorrow." His eyes are on mine and he's so earnest, so sincere. I can tell he is conflicted, but I'm so glad he's giving it a chance.
"I can get behind that idea. Definitely." Knowing he is okay with what is going on, I press another kiss to his lips. "Goodnight, Edward."
"Night Carlisle. Sweet dreams."
I laugh at his cheesy-ness as I walk away from his suite. I take the stairs back down to my room, because I have ridiculous amounts of energy for this time of night.
As I am unlocking my door, my phone beeps again. I know who it will be.
"I'm not sure what you're doing to me, and I don't know why I like it. But I do. See you tomorrow. More new things for me then? Edward"
I debate about how to reply, not sure whether to keep it light or acknowledge what he is saying. I decide to go for total honesty. And he can have the whole of tomorrow to decide what he wants it to mean.
"I will show you everything you want to know tomorrow. Carlisle"
