Sweet Addiction

“What the f**k are you talking about?”

I step out of his grasp and look down at his left hand, narrowing in on his bare finger. “You ass**le. Why don’t you wear your ring? Hoping to get your dick sucked behind that massive desk of yours by some girl that doesn’t know you’re married?”

His look stuns me. I had expected him to get angry with me for slapping him, maybe a bit disappointed in me for not wanting to pursue this any further, but the amused look on his face was not what I was expecting. He runs his hands down his face and laughs, stopping only when he sees my hardened expression.

“Married? Who the f**k told you I was married?”

I step back. “Juls. Answer my question. Why don’t you wear your ring?”

“Really? And where did Juls hear that I was married?”

I throw my hands up in frustration. “What the f**k does that matter? From Ian. Who else?”

He grabs my hand and pulls me with him towards the door, swinging it open and storming down the hallway.

“Where are we going? Let go of me.”

“Shut up, Dylan.” My fighting is useless. He is clearly on a mission as he walks towards Ian’s office door, dragging my infuriated self behind him. “We’re settling this right now.”

“Settling what?”

“Mr. Carroll, Mr. Thomas told me to hold his calls.”

“It’s fine, Jill,” he grunts at the nice receptionist as he swings the office door open, pulling me into the room with him.

“Fuck. What the f**k, Reese?” Ian’s voice causes me to shriek and then I focus on what is happening in front of me. My eyes widen at the sight of Juls bent over Ian’s desk, completely naked and getting f**ked from behind. Ian quickly moves and covers her up as Reese and I spin around and shut the door to keep the curious eyes from the hallway from getting a show.

“Shit. Uh, sorry, man. This will only take a minute,” Reese says as we both stare at the door.

“Jesus Christ, Dylan. I was so f**king close,” Juls growls.

I hold my hands up. “This was not my idea. Blame the ass**le next to me.” His head flicks towards mine and I stare him down. Yeah that’s right. I said it.

“Well? What the f**k is it?” Ian asks, still out of breath.

“Why the hell did you tell Juls that I was married?”

He laughs. “Uh, I didn’t. You? Married? That’s f**king hilarious. Babe, who told you Reese was married?”

“You did. Last week when we all went to The Tavern after work. Right?” She sounds nervous and suddenly unsure of herself.

“This is so f**king stupid. Can I go please?” I ask and Reese’s arm shoots out and prevents me from grabbing the door handle. I try to push it away but my efforts are useless.

“Babe, I think you’ve mistaken Reese for Trent. Trent is married.”

My stomach drops.

“Oh. Oh f**k, you’re right. Dylan, I’m so sorry. Shit, I really thought it was Reese. Honest mistake though, right?” She giggles nervously and clears her throat.

I drop my head into my hands. “Jesus Christ.” I groan, hearing a muffled laugh coming from my left and suddenly wanting to hurl myself out the nearest window. Oh God, this is awkward.

“Well, now that there’s no confusion, can you two love birds please get the f**k out so I can finish?” Ian utters through a laugh. “And lock the door behind you.”

“Yup. Uh, meet you downstairs, Juls.” I quickly open the door, beginning to make my way towards the elevators when a pair of hands grab my waist and spin me.

“Oh no. I don’t think so,” Reese states, gripping my elbow and leading me back down the hallway and straight to his office. Shit. He’s not married. Now what?

Four

I was completely unprepared for this turn of events. Everything was executed perfectly on my side. I slapped him, called him out on his infidelity, and didn’t allow his blinding good looks to deter me in any way. I felt powerful storming into his office and telling him off the way I did. But now, now I feel like a meek little church mouse as I cower in the corner of his office. He isn’t married. That was not something I was expecting to discover and definitely not something I was prepared to have to contemplate. I mean, what did we share together other than a hot fling at a wedding? There wasn’t anything deeper going on here, was there? No, surely not. No one develops relationships from slutty wedding sex encounters. That’s not how those things work. If they did, Joey would be in a new relationship every other month. My eyes slowly trail up his long lean body and stop on his eyes that are curiously watching me. He has regained his perch on his desk and hasn’t said a word as I fidget with my fingers, debating on where to start. Fuck. I owed him a major apology. I clear my throat and step closer to him, seeing him shift a bit on his desk.

“So, I was wondering if it was at all possible for you to completely forget that I came storming in here like a crazy person and assaulted you. If not, I’m not entirely above groveling.”

He tilts his head and strokes his jaw with his hand. Pushing off the desk, he bridges the gap between us. “Well, you did think I was a married man who was f**king around behind his wife’s back. I think that slap was justified from your point of view.” His hand brushes my hair off my shoulder, the small gesture causing my stomach to knot up. “Besides, I would hate to completely forget how incredibly sexy you looked all feisty and pissed off.”