Roll Against Regret (3d20) (3 page)

I didn’t want to part ways with Jackson after Carter left, but I needed sleep after the Sunday we’d had, and Jackson had an early meeting.

Too bad sleep didn’t happen, once I got back to my apartment. I spent half the night tossing the coffee shop conversation over and over in my head, wondering if I could have handled things better, questioning how this would change the synchronicity we had with Dark. When I did manage to drift off, my imagination taunted me. Not with nightmares. With overlapping visions of Jackson—hands running over me, teasing, caressing, kissing—and Carter, who had been more aggressive in bed but just as incredible, pushing me back, ripping off my clothes, and leaving me breathless.

The alarm tore the seductive dreams from me, but not the feeling they left behind. The combination of memories blended and danced in my still-drowsy mind, tingling over my skin and begging for attention between my legs. I shoved my T-shirt up, and kneaded one breast, pinching my nipple until it ached. I slid my other hand lower, under my panties, immediately zeroing in on my clit. I was already wet from the dreams. My fingers wrapped easily around my swollen button, gliding up and down and stroking with frantic need.

I arched my back, gasping pants tearing from me when I came. I kept rubbing, even though I was tender and raw. I didn’t stop until I couldn’t take anymore, and then collapsed back onto the bed with a sigh.

Please let me make it through this. I didn’t even know what
this
was, but I needed to survive it and come out the other side sane.

Exhaustion loomed, as I got ready for work. By the time I dragged myself to my desk at the office, the coffee was kicking in but only enough I didn’t have to pry my eyes open with toothpicks. That the sensual dreams still danced on my skin didn’t help. My head was in the most pleasant cloud ever, and didn’t want to emerge for nasty realities like work.

I checked my email to make sure nothing critical was happening, and then dove back into the paperwork Tasha handed me yesterday. I hadn’t been at it for long, when I was interrupted.

“Sutton.” Mark Kitner’s voice sent daggers of irritation through me. Since I’d broken up with him almost six months ago, we’d managed to keep ninety-nine percent of our interactions over emails, or through third parties like Tasha. Why was he approaching me now?

I spun in my chair, fake smile freezing in place when I saw who was with him. I searched for a polite way to ask Carter if he was following me, but for the second time in twenty-four hours, his wide-eyes said he was as surprised as me.

“This is Carter Erikson.” If Kitner had any inking of our shared awkward stare, it didn’t show. “He’s our new data analyst. Contract to hire. I need you to show him the ropes.”

What? I didn’t train new people. It wasn’t that I had a problem with the idea, but Ryan had always taken that job in the past. He’d been here long enough he knew all the obscure stuff. “Did you want me to teach him anything specific?”

“Yes.” Kitner snagged an empty chair from a nearby cube, slid it next to mine, and gestured for Carter to sit. “Fill him in on all things Zedophap.”

“I—” My protest died in my throat. I’d be professional about this. “We can start him on something more generic, like data structure. Maybe spin him up with a new client.”

“No.” Kitner was already turning away. “Bring him up to speed on Zedophap, and then we can get him familiar with other accounts.”

We didn’t have enough staff to cover new clients, let alone double people up on existing ones. What was going on? I dropped my face into my hands. A nasty thought nudged the back of my mind, and I pushed it aside, refusing to give it enough attention it could form into actual words.

“No, I’m not following you.” Carter’s teasing tone disrupted my descent into frustration.

I shook aside the cobwebs and focused on him. Not on the light stubble that said he hadn’t shaved in a day or the faint earthy scent of his cologne. He’d always worn just enough it wasn’t noticeable unless someone was close—it was more a suggestion than a smell. No, I wouldn’t take notice of any of that. “I’m good. Data analysis, huh?”

He shrugged. “It’s not where I started after college, but it’s where the contracts ended up taking me. I have more of a knack for making the numbers say pretty things than presenting them to the people in charge.”

“I get that.” None of that explained why I was supposed to catch him up to speed on my clients, but I was already on thin ice at work. Rehashing a fancy-meeting-you-here conversation wouldn’t be the best use of my time. “So, um…let’s dive in, and stop me when you have questions.”

“Hmm… Bossy Zoe.” His comment barely reached my ears, even though he’d leaned in. “I could get used to that.”

I wouldn’t blush. I didn’t care he sat close enough his heat brushed my arm. This was the perfect chance to prove I’d gotten over him. “You’ll have to, at least until you know this stuff.” I pointed at the document list. “This is our version control system.”

The next several hours went smoothly, if I pretended I didn’t notice every time Carter brushed my arm or whispered something meant only for my ears. He was good at what he did, and caught on quickly.

When a Human Resources person pulled him away to fill out some paperwork, I drew in a deep breath. I could do this. So far, so good, but I needed a drink. Too bad I didn’t trust myself with anything stronger than soda. I wandered into the break room, stretching my legs and trying to shift my mind into a neutral spot.

Ryan was already at the vending machine. He flashed me a smirk. The biggest acknowledgment I’d gotten from him in months. “You pissed off the big guy, huh?”

I should be demure and polite, but I’d used the whole of my reserve already that morning. “You think? When I told you, way back when, that I left him because I didn’t like what he did to you, did you think I was making up stories?” The words came out sharper than I intended, but it felt good. I was tired of Ryan scowling at me.

He raised his eyebrows. “Not making up stories. More like…sugar coating things, to make you look better.”

I didn’t need this. I stepped around him and dropped my coins in the machine. “Glad you’ve got such a high opinion of me.”

“You were screwing the boss.”

I whirled back to face him. “So you assumed I was a bad person?” I should have had things out with Ryan ages ago, but guilt had kept me from rocking the boat. I’d apologized, and it was up to him to accept that. “Besides, you hooked up with a project manager.” I hid a wince. Maybe I shouldn’t have dragged Tasha into this.

He glanced over his shoulder at the door, before looking back at me. His voice never rose. “It shows, huh?”

“A bit, yeah. I mean, it’s not obvious, but something’s changed…”

“A lot’s changed. And what she and I have isn’t the same.”

I searched his face and the casual mask he’d put up when I brought up Tasha. What was he hiding? “How is it different?”

“I don’t know what your reasons were for hooking up with Kitner, but since you’ve split, I can guess a few things. We’re different because I love Tasha and S—” He snapped his mouth shut.

The unfinished sentence stuck in my head. He loved Tasha and she loved him…? And stuff…? What had he meant to say? “I’m happy for you two.” I made sure to keep my tone sincere. “And yeah, I meant it when I said I was sorry and I made some mistakes.”

He shrugged. “It’s all right. I should have let you off the hook sooner.”

Elders, what an ass. “Glad to hear we’re better. I have to get back to training the new guy.”

“Zoe.” The word landed against my back. “I’m sorry Kitner’s making you train your own replacement. Grudge or not, you don’t deserve that.”

Replacement. The word sank like a stone in my gut. The words I’d refused to let myself think. This wasn’t an exercise in busywork, to keep me from getting my other tasks done on time. This was Kitner’s move to push me out the door. “Thanks for that.” I headed back to my desk, a new kind of dread spilling through me.

Carter was already waiting, lounged in his chair, casual smile in place. “What time’s lunch? Kitner told me to coordinate with you.”

I was surprised Mark hadn’t told him to just do whatever he wanted, to see how I’d react. I also hadn’t realized how late it was. “Now, I guess. Be back in an hour?”

“Let me treat you.”

“Carter.”

“Stop.” His voice had dropped in volume again. “We decided we were cool last night. If the three of us are going to keep hanging out, we may as well figure out how to get past the awkward alone time. Right?”

Stupid logic. “Yes.”

“So pick a place. Lunch is on me.”

“No.” I grabbed my purse. “We split the bill.”

He leaned close enough his breath brushed my skin when he whispered, “Yup, I think I like bossy Zoe.”

I couldn’t fight the flush that time, so I ducked my head and cut a straight line for the door, hoping he’d follow.

We stepped through the front door of the little restaurant I’d navigated us to. A wash of chatter and the scent of curry greeted us.

“Really?” Carter sounded pleased. “Spicy food? You?”

I knew he’d like the place, and was surprised he hadn’t heard of it before. “No. They make a wimp version of an amazing mango curry.”

He shook his head, but was smiling. We were seated at a table and given a simple menu, along with instructions I’d heard many times. That the heat level ranged from zero to ten, but if Carter had never been here before and liked it hot, he probably wanted to start with a three.

He raised his brows at the implied challenge. “What if I want to start with ten?”

The waitress smirked. “I’ll bring you a three, and if it’s not hot enough, I’ll take it back and get you something else.”

“How about a four? And be prepared to take it back.”

She grabbed our menus. “If you want. I’ll bring extra ice water.” She moved to the next table.

Carter turned his attention to me. “I’m not stepping on your toes at work, am I?”

“No.” The reassurance flew to my lips without thought, and I paused. “I mean, yeah, you are, but it’s not your fault.”

He drummed his fingers on the table. “I had a feeling. You looked almost as surprised to be training someone as you were to see me.”

Was I really so transparent, or did he just know me that well? “It’s not a big deal.”

“It is. I’ll find a new contract.”

The concern warmed me, but my chest tightened at the same time, as if a fist squeezed my heart. Where had that reaction come from? The answer struck me. I didn’t like the idea of Carter vanishing from my life again, even though he’d only been back in it for a day. I also didn’t like that the idea of him scared me, but I couldn’t ignore the trepidation filling me. “I appreciate it. But Kitner will bring on someone else, if you leave, and the next person probably won’t be as understanding.”

His gaze lingered on my face for a moment. “Is there a story there, or is Kitner just as big a jerk as he appears on the surface?”

The nature of the question caught me off-guard. Most people liked Mark Kitner on first meeting. It took a while before he dropped the pretenses, and even then, only if he was pissed off. “Why did you take the job if you don’t like the boss?” I asked.

“A boss may or may not make a job, but the offer was good, and I thought I’d try it out. Why did you dodge my question?”

Hiding things from Carter wasn’t going to be easy, unless I put some more effort into it. I wasn’t sure if that was a bad thing or not. “I started here a year or so ago, and he wasn’t my boss then. So when he hit on me and said all the sweet, flattering things a girl likes to hear, I decided to give things a try. Except then he pulled a few strings to get me into his department, and I discovered he’d broken a lot of corporate rules and threatened someone else’s job, to put me there. Turned out he’d done it to get back at the other guy, not for me, but that didn’t change the situation any in my mind, so I left him.”

“And then came Jackson.”

Not quite where I’d expected Carter to go. I twisted my mouth in frustration. “We can’t keep coming back to this.”

“We also can’t keep ignoring it’s there.”

“What do you want from me, Carter?”

He slouched in his seat and interlocked his fingers. “I’m not trying to be a jerk. I just want the full story. I mean, given how we ended…”

He probably did deserve the truth. When we dated, five or so years ago, Carter encouraged me to break out of the tight, conservative shell I’d formed growing up in a religious environment. Some of the things he suggested excited me, but others were terrifying. The kind of stuff I’d been raised not to think about. Like bringing another person into our relationship, to experiment—male or female, he left it up to me.

However, he’d also told me he wouldn’t pressure me. That he loved me and we’d do those things when I was ready and not before. The longer we stayed together, the more I realized he wasn’t going to be happy with just me and plain old boring sex. I couldn’t be what he needed, so I left him to explore life the way he wanted.

I took a deep breath and collected my thoughts. “After we broke up, I kept coming back to
us.
To what you wanted. To what we had together. I struggled to accept that I could ever be those things. That I had any interest in something like… being with two people at the same time.” I pushed the words out more easily than I expected. “It was always in the back of my mind. Time passed, it had been a few years, and I realized I’d become more comfortable with the idea, but it wasn’t like I could just go find you again.”

Carter’s attention never left me, and his expression was soft. “Why not?”

I stumbled on the question. “Because relationships don’t work that way. I wasn’t going to be the girl who crawled back and begged for a second chance from a guy who had moved on. I didn’t think it was an option. I met Mark, and I thought I was being naughty. It was an office romance, forbidden-love kind of thing. Except dating coworkers isn’t against the rules here. But still, we fooled around a few times in his office after everyone went home. There was a little rush, but not quite the spark I was looking for.”

I had no idea why I was being so open with Carter about any of this, but it felt right. I knew I could trust him. “After I split up with him, I met Jackson. He was bolder and more direct than anyone I knew—except you. He calls me out on what I’m thinking, gets me to share what’s on my mind, coerces fantasies from me I don’t know I’ve got…”

I trailed off when I realized Carter’s expression had shifted. The corners of his mouth and eyes tugged down. He shook his head, and a smile flitted back in. “I can tell he’s really good for you.”

“He is.” It didn’t matter what other confusion or frustration was in my mind. Jackson and I were incredible together.

“I’m glad. I don’t begrudge you that. You deserve to be happy.”

“So are we actually okay now?” I asked. “Not this phony let’s-be-polite stuff?”

“We’re actually okay now.”

It sounded like he meant it this time. We’d still have obstacles, but maybe we could actually be friends.

Our food arrived, and the waitress watched closely, while Carter took a bite.

“You want it hotter?” she asked.

A thin sheen of sweat broke across his forehead. He hesitated, and then shook his head. “No, I’m good. Thank you.”

She shook her head, a tiny smile threatening her face. “I’ll check back on you.”

We spent a few seconds shifting dishes, and taking a taste. “Fantasies, huh? Care to share a couple?” Carter asked, open curiosity in his tone.

It was tempting. Probably more than it should be. If all three of us were online, when he was just Dark to us, it’s possible I would have. “Not between just us. Maybe if Jackson were here.”

“Of course. He’s always invited to watch.”

The words stuck in my head, and I worked to shove aside the thoughts they tugged at—the memories of two nights ago with Jackson. I wouldn’t let myself connect the dots. I wouldn’t draw any conclusions or make any suggestions. Carter and I were just about to move into a more comfortable, friendly place.

“Speaking of watching, when’s your band’s next gig?” A rapid change in subject was the only out I could think of. “We’d love to see you perform.”

Carter smirked. “I’d like that too. Area Fifty-One. You should definitely both come.”

“Do you write their songs, or is that not your thing anymore?”

“I write some of them.”

“Sing me something?” I let the hope slip into my request. Carter had an amazing singing voice. He could wail like a heavy-metal god, or slip into a love song without issue.

He sang a sweet ballad. I’d never heard it before—I assumed it was one of his songs—but I found myself keeping beat with the song after only a few lines. We shifted our focus back to lunch and I found myself more and more drawn into the conversation, and leaving my apprehension behind. Maybe I could actually find a balance with Carter that didn’t involve romance.