Page 15 of Pressure

Tristen tossed his hands in the air and said, “I was outside in the valet when he arrived. I knew the second I saw him that I wanted him.”

I smiled and then laughed.

“What?” Tristen asked as I continued to laugh. “Seriously, what's so fucking funny?” Tristen began to pace behind the chairs.

“Relax. I’m not laughing at you. I’m laughing at the situation.”

“If I’d known he was your Fourth of July wonder boy who choked on his water?—

“Coke,” I interrupted.

“Whatever. Coke. If I’d known he was that guy, I wouldn’t have switched the appointments. But I’m not going to lie, I want him.”

I nodded. “I do as well,” I said and then sat down again. Tristen took a seat, and our eyes connected.

“What do we do?”

I cocked my head to the side and raised an eyebrow at him. Tristen was a bright man, and the resolution to this situation was an easy one.

“Simple. We make him ours.”

A smile slowly spread across Tristen’s face. “Are you sure, Joel?”

“Is there a problem with that?”

“No, of course not! We’ve often had conversations about doing that; adding a third, though we never have,” Tristen commented.

“Because you’ve never exhibited such good taste before,” I replied in all honesty.

Tristen was an incredible, thoughtful man who was as kinky as fuck, and he always put his partners first. He hadn’t always made the best decisions on long-term partners and unfortunately would turn a blind eye to the point where his kindness was taken advantage of. Tristen deserved better.

Would Cash turn out to be something better? I was almost one hundred percent sure of it. We just needed Cash on board with it.

8

CASH

Ninety-nine.

One hundred.

I tossed the tennis ball off the wall from the couch in the living room and counted each bounce. Once I reached one hundred, I’d switch and toss the ball with my opposite arm. Mindless tasks such as this were good for me right now because if I didn’t have things like this to do, I found myself thinking about the interview and those two guys.

Who is Cash Jameson?

I had no fucking clue.

It had been days since the interview, and I’d been asking myself that same question. Still I didn’t have an answer to it. I’d once felt confident and comfortable in my own skin, but those two guys completely tossed that out the window. If I wasn’t careful, my mind would drift off to think about them. I’d already drawn several pictures of them.

Those six-foot-fuck-me-three Silver Fox Daddies had really messed with my head with just one question. And it was justone crazy question that had nothing to do with performing a job. I’d thought there was a good chance they’d ask a question that possibly someone with experience would be able to answer better and to their satisfaction. But I hadn’t expected the question that would trip me up or keep me awake at night would have been as simple aswho is Cash Jameson?What kind of fucking question was that anyhow?

Because days after the interview, I still had no fucking clue. I had a hard time believing that I didn’t understand myself as much as I thought I did. I mean, obviously I didn’t. It was eating at me, and every time I closed my eyes to go to sleep I saw those two guys and their eyes drilling holes into me. Never before had I been so flustered and quickly stripped of my confidence than I had been with Tristen and Joel.

It was both unnerving and terrifying and yet, it turned me on. How could two guys who didn’t even know me undo me like that with a question unrelated to the job?

Suddenly, a piece of licorice hit me in the face, and that successfully pulled my attention from my thoughts of Joel and Tristen to stare at Braxton. He’d been trying to pull me out of my funk since the interview. “I’m telling you, Cash, going back to law school is what you need to do.”

I shook my head and went back to staring at the wall that I was bouncing the ball off of. “Fuck that.”