Crossing the Lines (25 page)

Green eyes studied her, made looking away impossible. “That decision is mine to make, Alice. I cannot properly provide for you if you don’t come to me when you are in need. If nothing else, I would hope that after this evening you understand that much.”

A peek at Henry’s needs. A sign of his trust in her. “I do. I promise I’ll give it a lot of thought.” She wouldn’t let him down. “I’m not used to leaning on someone so much.”

She kissed his cheek. Something she wouldn’t have considered doing before, not without his indication that he wanted it from her. A light kiss. An almost-friend kiss.

She walked out the door.

9

Alice managed to go an entire week without running into Jay or Henry.

She didn’t contact them, and they didn’t contact her, and even going in and out of the building and stopping to collect her mail never seemed to turn them up. By the time she got home from work Friday evening, she suspected Henry had instructed Jay to leave her alone to think.

A protective gesture. Henry wouldn’t attempt to sway her opinions about what their arrangement should look like. In the last eight months, he’d taken exceptionally good care of her. Physically, for sure. If he hadn’t done so emotionally, well, the truth was she hadn’t told him what she needed. She’d refused to entertain the idea. She’d feared her growing feelings, the overpowering nature of her desire for Henry and the almost maternal affection building on her attraction to Jay. Feared Henry hadn’t wanted it too, that he wasn’t feeling more for her.

He’d pretended, at least, on their nights together. Treated her with tenderness. Unless he hadn’t been assuming some polite fiction as a dominant to give her only what she needed and not what he wanted. Unless that’s what Jay knew that she didn’t. That Henry did
want more.

Fuck. Had she screwed up so colossally?

Monday. She’d ask him Monday at dinner. No backing down. She hadn’t been on a single date in eight months, and they hadn’t either. They would’ve disclosed it to her if they’d slept with anyone else. The contract’s safety clauses required it. None of them had wanted more than each other. An exclusive relationship, by definition.

They had the friendship. The sex. The commitment. They just hadn’t put all of them together and said the words.

Not true. Jay has. He’s braver than we are.

She tossed two weeks’ worth of laundry into the basket and headed down to the machines on the first floor. Throwing on pajama pants and an old t-shirt to do laundry on the Fridays she didn’t spend with Henry and Jay had become routine. The activity kept her from sitting in the apartment wondering what they were doing across the hall. Those Fridays had to be Jay’s, with Henry taking care of his needs the way he did hers on the opposite Fridays.

Jay had the added benefit of Henry’s love and support every other day of the week. To talk about his day over dinner. To curl up on the couch together and relax. To lay his head down on the same pillow without needing sex as an excuse.

The empty laundry room boasted two spinning washers and a dryer of clothes waiting to be removed but plenty of machines open. She tossed in her washables, started the cycle, set her phone to give an alarm in an hour and crossed the hall to the community lounge to wait.

The blank television screen made an excellent listener for the things she would’ve asked on the day she agreed to the contract if their eventual importance had registered. Questions like “What happens if I want more than sex?” and “When you say I should come to you if I need you, what does that mean? What counts as a need?”

Her alarm interrupted. She dumped her clothes in a dryer and settled back on the couch. Jay still had a contract with Henry even though they’d lived together for years.

Having a contract didn’t seem to mean they couldn’t also have a relationship
.
The contract might spell out the amount of dominance she accepted or allowed or encouraged from Henry within that relationship. And he’d tell her she still had the control, wouldn’t he? One word from her was all it took to make him stop, to back off and reassess.

Irritation blossomed with the soft
snick
of the door behind her. Interlopers. Maybe if she ignored them, they wouldn’t drag her into small talk. She was busy wallowing here, dammit. But the long, lanky body swinging over the back of the couch and into the seat beside her chased irritation away.

“Hey, Alice.”

“Jay? Shouldn’t you be…I mean, why are you here?”

“Because you’re here, obviously. It’s your laundry night. Ergo and thus and other fancy-pants words, if I want to find you, I need to look here.”

“You wanted to find me? Is something wrong? Where’s Henry? Is he—”

“See, I knew you cared.” He punched her shoulder, a gentle joke. “Henry’s fine. Well, not fine, ’cause he’s all worried about you, but otherwise, fine.”

“Did he send you down here to check on me?” That didn’t line up with her assessment of their distance all week. Or with the telltale wince crossing Jay’s face. “Does he know you’re talking to me?”

“Ah, no and no. But wait, before you give me some ‘listen to Henry, Jay’ speech like I know you want to…” He smirked, and she conceded the point, because he wasn’t wrong. “Just hear me out.”

Fair enough. She missed them. And Henry hadn’t told
her
not to talk to Jay. “Go ahead.”

“Watch a movie with me.”

“What?”

“Movie night. Snacks? Soda? Laughter?” He grinned at her, his charming flirt grin. “It’s a thing friends do. C’mon. We’ll dump your laundry upstairs and pick a comedy and relax.”

“You’re serious.”

“No, I’m funny. But I’m serious about the movie, yes.” He grabbed her hands and stood with a playful tug. “Up, let’s go, your clothes are almost dry anyway.”

“What, you’re a dryer psychic now?” She let him pull her to her feet. “How do you know my clothes are almost dry?”

He stood inches from her, clasping her hands. She fought the urge to lean into his strength.

“I recognized your green shirt tumbling around. You wore it yesterday. And I’ve been standing in the hall watching you for almost an hour.”

Oh. He’d caught glimpses of her all week, maybe. Deliberately watched for her.

“One movie.” She made her voice firm. “And only if Henry doesn’t object.”

“Deal.”

He rushed her through getting her laundry and insisted on carrying it upstairs. She left the clothes in the basket as he dragged her across the hall.

“In a hurry?”

“Don’t want you to change your mind.”

“I’m not…Jay, you know I…”

“I know. I just want you to be able to say it to Henry sometime.” He pushed her toward the living room. “Go, sit. Pick a movie. I’ll make popcorn.”

She sat. The closed door to Henry’s studio taunted her. Henry in a painting frenzy might explain why Jay was at loose ends and seeking her out for companionship.

Jay brought the drinks and the popcorn bowl out, and she started the movie.

He found half-a-dozen excuses to touch her in the first ten minutes. He brushed her fingers when he handed her a drink. He leaned across her to grab the remote and adjust the volume. Impressive patience and self-control for him, though. He hadn’t grabbed her in a bear hug yet. He stuck to fidgeting. A lot.

“I was sitting downstairs for a while, Jay.” An olive branch they both desired didn’t seem over the line. “I’d rather lie down, if you don’t mind.”

In five seconds, he had them both lying on the couch, her back to his chest, his arm in a secure grip around her stomach.

“No problem, Alice. We can do that.”

They stayed that way until the credits rolled, and still the door to Henry’s studio didn’t open. He must’ve heard them laughing. Either he meant to allow them an awful lot of privacy, or he wasn’t home.

“Is Henry at a gallery opening or something?” She succeeded in keeping her voice casual. Enough for Jay, anyway. “You didn’t feel like going?”

“Oh, no, he’s at a club.” He looped a strand of her hair around his finger as she slid onto her back. “It’s not my scene these days.”

Clubbing didn’t sound like a Henry activity. She’d sooner expect Jay to go out and leave Henry home. Maybe he’d gone to a jazz club? A poetry club? A men’s club with brandy and cigars?

She wrinkled her nose and teased him with an elbow in the gut. “Since when does Henry like dancing and techno music more than you do?”

He laughed. “Hardly. It’s way more tasteful. Classical music, mostly, and very little dancing, unless you count the naked and horizontal sort. Although vertical’s pretty popular, too, come to think of it. And now I’m definitely thinking of it.”

“He’s at a
sex
club? Having sex with other people?” Shrill to her ears, her voice still didn’t convey the depth of her confusion and horror. Was Henry at the place Jay had gotten hurt? No fucking wonder it wasn’t Jay’s scene. How could Henry go there?

“He’s at one, yeah, but I doubt he’s having sex with anyone.”

Jay didn’t seem troubled by an idea that didn’t even make sense to her. But maybe Jay’s experiences made it more complicated. The place he’d been hurt was also the place he’d met Henry. Maybe he still had that desire, but he didn’t feel able to go. God, that must crush him. Like the way he didn’t mind watching Henry flog her anymore but he wasn’t begging for it himself.

“But he could be.” Henry might be meeting a new submissive right now. Jay would miss her, but he’d have Henry to talk him through it.

“Sure. He could be.”

Pleasing Henry came first. He’d transfer his affection easily enough if handled the right way. Hell, maybe he’d done it before. Maybe she’d been the replacement for someone else. Her stomach flipped.

“But if he is, he’ll be safe about it. You know he wouldn’t do anything to put us at risk.”

Physically, he meant. Medically.

That wasn’t what she meant at all. Didn’t Henry feel an emotional connection to them? Fidelity? Or had this whole time, months of her life, just been fucking.

Playing.

God, being upset with Henry made her an unfair, hypocritical bitch. She’d said she wanted nothing more than fucking from the start. She’d lost her shit last week, proved she wasn’t cut out for their arrangement, and he’d gone out tonight searching for her replacement.

She closed her eyes, cutting off the sight of Jay’s earnest stare, his open, trusting expression. He had a hell of a lot more right to be upset than she did, but Henry’s behavior didn’t bother him in the slightest.

Henry would always come back to him.
He’s the bride. I’m the stripper at the bachelor party.

Shit.

All her thinking this week wouldn’t change that. Somewhere along the line, their arrangement had gone from playing to serious for her. But not for Henry, not if he’d gone out to fuck other people.

Jay nuzzled her ear. “If you want help taking care of things, I’m here. You’re here. The bed is here. We can play without Henry, as long as we keep things vanilla.”

She pushed herself away from him, off the couch. “Sorry, Jay. I’m, I think I’m just gonna turn in. Get a good night’s sleep.”

He gained his feet in an instant. “Alice?”

Avoiding his gaze, she took a few steps toward the door. “Yeah, no, it’s fine, I’m—”

“You’re upset. I fucked up, didn’t I—Henry is so much better at this than I am.” He brushed her arm. “He wouldn’t let you leave like this. So you can go, and I’ll call and interrupt his night, or you can stay and we can go to bed—no playing, I promise—and I won’t call.”

“Anyone ever tell you you’re really dominant for a submissive?” Her jab lacked punch. She didn’t truly want to cross the hall to her empty bed. But she didn’t want to talk, either.

“Ah-ah-ah—I’m the senior submissive here. In Henry’s absence, you report to me.”

“My contract doesn’t say that.”

After they talked on Monday—renegotiated—who knew what her contract might say? Assuming she still had a contract. Henry and Jay had been fine as a twosome before she’d come into the picture. They’d be fine afterward, too. And apparently Henry had plenty of people waiting in the wings.

“Alright, you’ve convinced me.” Jay smirked. “I’ll have to call Henry for an interpretation and a ruling on that.”