Reluctantly You (Our Exception Book 3)
Reluctantly You: Chapter 9

Gideon

Mitchell strides onto the basketball court late, looking rumpled and flushed. He can’t even meet my gaze, and it bothers me more than it should. I want him to meet my stare, I want him to come at me with all that pent-up aggression and anger.

“You’re late,” I say, tossing him the basketball.

He catches it, his eyes flicking up to meet mine and his cheeks grow an even darker red. What the fuck is that about?

“Are you sick or something?” I ask, watching as he dribbles the ball and shoots it. It bounces off the backboard and falls to the ground.

“No. Just tired.”

“You looked flushed.”

“Fuck off. I’m just tired and…hot.”

I move toward him and press a hand to his cheek to check for signs of fever. His eyelids flutter and he leans into it for just a second before wrenching his head away. “Don’t touch me. Your boyfriend wouldn’t like that.”

My eyebrows rise at that. “What boyfriend?”

His lips curl derisively. “Whatever.”

“I don’t have a boyfriend,” I say, for some reason needing him to understand that. It’s none of his business who I fuck or date, but I don’t want him to think I’m cheating. I never cheat. My mind filters through the reasons why he may have thought that, and they land on Rory. He did come to visit me the other day. Mitchell must have seen him throw himself into my arms.

“Rory isn’t my boyfriend or my casual fuck. He’s like a little brother to me.”

“I don’t know who that is,” he grumbles as he shoots another shot and misses.

“The guy you saw me with the other day at work.”

He ignores me, just jogs up to grab the ball and tries again, but misses. His form is off. He’s not the greatest ball player, but he’s usually not this shit.

“You’re sucking today,” I finally comment and then move up behind him, gripping his hips and steadying him.

His breath comes out in short pants as my fingers curl against his cut sides.

“Feet apart,” I say lowly, and then nudge my foot between his, kicking them out. I can feel the ripple of his muscles beneath my palms as I pull his back against my chest. I should let go, he’s not my type, not even remotely, but for some reason, I just can’t.

My hands slide up his sides to his shoulders, lifting his arms slightly, the ball clasped in his hands. My mouth moves toward his ear and I feel the brush of his lobe against my lips.

“You have terrible form. Bend your hips back.”

His ass gently hits my groin, and I feel sensation pool between my legs.

“Good,” I whisper as my hands slide up to his wrists, bringing his arms above his head.

This changed from showing him good form to something else completely. His muscular body is pressed against mine, and I can’t help but press into him a little firmer.

The ball slips from his fingers and falls behind us, bouncing loudly on the floor, but neither of us moves in the empty space. It’s just us and our rapid heartbeats.

I don’t like him, and yet here I am, holding him.

What the fuck am I doing?

His hands wrap around the back of my neck and mine can’t help but slide down to his stomach, feeling his muscles contract as I go. I can feel the slightest of trembles under his skin. Anticipation.

He’s holding his breath.

I want to do more, to see how far I can push him, but suddenly, the gym door opens with a bang and Mitchell jumps away from me, nearly stumbling as he jogs forward.

Fuck. Fuck!

I run my hands through my hair, trying to act normal, like I wasn’t just thinking about getting Mitchell off in the middle of a basketball court.

“Uh, didn’t see nothing. Just grabbing my cleaning cart,” a deep voice says and then a second later, I hear the door open and close. I don’t even look. Instead, my eyes are firmly on Mitchell who is bent forward, grabbing a drink from the water fountain. My eyes slide down the curve of his spine to his round ass.

Fuck. The way he behaved just now. The way he submits to my touch. I know he said he isn’t gay, but he does have men suck his cock. So…this makes me wonder, is Mitch a bottom? Would he let someone slide their cock inside that ass? Would he whine and beg while someone rutted into him?

The thought turns me on more than it should.

He’s my employee, and the guy I’m supposed to have it out for. And yet, for some reason, my body isn’t on board with any of it.

My body just wants to press against his again.

Mitchell finally stands up, swiping a hand across his mouth, his cheeks still red, his eyes diverted from mine.

“You done?” I ask, and he gives me a clipped nod. I grab the basketball from behind me and dribble it, shooting a basket with ease. Mitchell grabs it as it falls from the net and walks toward me.

“Don’t touch me again,” he says darkly as he shoots and finally makes a shot.

As he jogs forward and grabs the ball again, I can’t stop my mouth from saying, “No promises, Mr. Morris.”

We play a few games, our bodies sweating and sore by the time we’re done. I couldn’t help myself while we played, taunting him relentlessly as I pressed myself against him as often as possible. I loved the grunts and grumbles he gave as I did it.

The occasional “fuck off” only made me want to do it more.

By the time we’re done, he’s grumpier than normal.

“Good game. Let’s go shower,” I say at the end of our last match, and Mitchell’s eyes slide down my body quickly before he pushes past me. He pretends to hide behind aggressive shoves and nudges, but he sure as fuck makes sure to touch me as often as possible.

I bite back a smug grin as I follow him into the locker room and watch as he pulls his bag from his cubby, striding to the showers without even talking to me. Or looking at me.

Fuck, this man enrages me.

Last night, I stupidly showed up at his house to check on him and when he didn’t answer his door, I worried something was wrong. That he had hurt himself. So I called him in a fit of panic and the fuckface sounded annoyed I’d reached out.

Fuck me for caring.

I really shouldn’t care.

I shouldn’t have invited him to play ball with me this morning either, but here I am, watching him retreat into a shower while I stand here and grind my teeth.

I’m so fucking…intrigued. I don’t know what it is about him. But I can’t quite seem to stay away. I hate him, and yet, I don’t. Honestly, I don’t know what it is I feel about him at this moment.

I grab my things and make my way to where Mitchell disappeared. Part of me wants to walk up next to him, press his naked body up against the cool tiles and get him off.

Part of me thinks he’ll let me.

I stop near the shower entrance, seeing Mitchell’s head under the shower as I strip my clothes off. There’s no one else in here at the moment and as polite as it would be to shower on the other side of the room, I stand right next to him. I like to unnerve him—get off on it, actually.

Flicking on the water, I step under the warm spray and run my hands through my hair.

His eyes are on me, his movements stuttering. I bite back my smile as I reach over and grab my bottle of soap. I lather myself up, making sure to spend ample time on my cock.

Mitchell shifts next to me, no longer scrubbing, just eyeing me. I pull my dick up and away from my body, stroking it, leaning my head back and letting the water rush down my body.

I know he likes what he sees.

“You still have suds on you,” I say, and he startles, dropping his bar of soap on the ground.

He eyes it, and I do too.

“Bend down and grab it,” I command lowly, and he narrows his gaze at me.

“You’re a fucking pervert,” he replies, and I grin at him, my hands sliding from my dick to my chest. I watch as his eyes follow the movements.

“Am I really a pervert if you like it?” I ask, and he swallows, our gazes clashing.

“I don’t fucking like it.”

I run my tongue across the front of my teeth as my eyes land on his half-hard cock. It grows and thickens under my gaze, and I flick my shower off and run a hand through my hair. Mitchell’s eyes are all over me, sliding across my wet skin, consuming every inch of me.

“You want to touch me,” I say, and his cheeks flame.

“I don’t.”

I take a step closer to him, our bodies just inches apart. “Liar.”

He lets out a soft breath, and I can’t help but drag my finger up his side to his nipple, flicking it gently.

His eyelashes flutter, and I bite back a grin.

“See you at work tomorrow, Mr. Morris,” I say and stride around him and out of the showers, feeling his gaze on my ass the entire time.

I don’t know what’s gotten into me, but teasing that man is so fucking fun.

I may not like him, but goddamn, he is fun to toy with.

I don’t see Mitchell when I arrive at work Monday morning, but Shiloh says that he’s here and is working in his office. Seems he snuck in without a word to anyone. Typical.

“What did you do to him?” Shiloh asks, leaning against my desk and arching his eyebrow at me.

“What do you mean?”

“He was blushing a lot. Couldn’t meet my eyes when I said hello.”

“And why do you think that’s my fault?” I ask, my lips twitching slightly. Good, let him blush. I bet he’s thinking about my cock.

“Gideon,” Shiloh chastises. “He’s not a toy. He’s an employee.”

My gaze meets his, and I nod. “I know.”

“You say you know, but you slept at his house the other night, you went over again to check on him this weekend, and now he can’t stop turning red…”

“I’m a very engaging boss,” I reply, and he snorts.

“You are not. You’re fucking with him. And it’s not nice. Stop before someone gets hurt.”

“I’m not doing anything. I’m behaving.”

He sighs and folds his arms across his bright pink shirt.

“Fine, but when something bad happens and you come bitching to me, I’ll just say I told you so. Because despite it all, you two have a history, unbeknownst to him.”

“Nothing bad will happen.”

He doesn’t believe me. I can tell by the way he’s watching me with that disapproving look in his eye. He’s always been like this, far too cautious for his own good. But with how we were raised, I don’t blame him.

“Anyway, Rory wants to meet up again tonight. Would you like to join us for dinner?” I ask, trying to change the subject.

“Sure, I’m bummed I couldn’t make it the other night. But you know, duty calls.”

“Your other job,” I reply with a huff of frustration.

“It’s just helping some guys out at a salvage yard. It’s not interfering with your shit. So don’t huff and puff.”

“I can’t imagine you out there in a fucking junkyard.”

“I’m not in the junkyard, I’m in the office, organizing paperwork and getting everything digitized.”

“Hmph. It’s beneath you.”

He rolls his eyes, but I see the tinge of pink on his cheeks. I know there’s more to it than just helping someone out.

“Ah.”

“Do not ah me,” he grumbles.

“You’re there for the eye candy, aren’t you? Are there big buff men walking around with grease stains and ripped jeans?”

He huffs and then stands up, brushing invisible dust from his shirt. “If you must know, two are taken, but the others might be a nice distraction… Anyway, it’s not appropriate. And I’m not discussing this with you.”

“But you’ll discuss it with Rory.”

“Fuck off,” he grumbles and then flips me off as he walks from my office, leaving me alone once more.

I lean back in my chair and glance at my schedule. I have a busy rest of the day, but part of me wants to stop by Mitchell’s office and see him blush for me.

Because I know it’s for me. Because of me. I went from wanting to destroy him to… wanting him?

No, that can’t be right.

I just want to peel back the layers, see what makes him tick.

Nothing more than that. I’m just intrigued.

I finish up work and stay later than planned, wanting to leave from here to go to dinner with Rory and Shiloh. And because of Shiloh’s commitments at the junkyard and Rory’s school schedule, we’re eating late.

I’m mid-email when my office door opens and Mitchell strides through.

My eyes catch on his, and he glances away quickly.

“Just dropping this off. I’m coming in later tomorrow since I worked late tonight.”

“Is that so?” I say, leaning back in my chair and watching as he shifts before me. His cheeks are flushed and his hands are fisted near his sides.

“Yeah.”

“What are your plans tonight?” I ask, and his eyes flash to mine.

“Why do you need to know?”

I don’t. I don’t have any reason to know his business, but then again, a part of me wants to know. I want to know more.

“I don’t need to know. I’m just asking.”

He huffs in annoyance, but doesn’t leave. Just peers around my office and then shoves his hands in his pockets.

“Like what you’ve done with the space.”

It’s such an odd comment that I just sit, confused for a moment.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. My dad’s room was so dark and overbearing… This is better. Lighter.”

“Your dad’s an asshole,” I murmur, and Mitchell gives a small nod in agreement.

“Anyway, I’m going to dinner with Shiloh and Rory.” His eyes flash to mine, and I add, “The guy I’m not fucking or dating.”

His eyes move to the opposite wall and his nostrils flare.

“Would you like to join?” I ask, not sure why I offered, but I’m not regretting it.

I want to see Mitchell outside of the gym and his house. I want to see him interact with others.

I want to observe him.

“Why the fuck would I want that?” he asks, his voice cutting.

I shrug, not sure myself. “Just extending the invite.”

“You feel sorry for me, is that it? You saw me at my worst and now think I need a babysitter?”

His tone grows cutting and my lips turn into a frown.

“I don’t think you need anything. You’re reading too much into this.”

His nostrils flare and I see him take a step closer to me. My heart ratchets up a notch at his proximity, and I do my best to not let it show. I won’t let him see me.

“Am I? Fucking calling me, coming over, inviting me to the gym, to dinner…you think you’re dating me now or some shit?”

He stops in front of my chair, and I stare up at him.

Come at me. Come at me and let me put you in your place.

“I’d never date you,” I reply, and his cheeks grow flushed with anger.

He steps in closer, his knees hitting mine and he thinks he has an advantage, but I have a few tricks up my sleeves.

“Yeah, well, it sure seems like you want to. Always fawning all over me.”

I let my lips slide up into a mean smile.

“Is that what you call fawning? Really? You have low standards, Mr. Morris.”

His knuckles crack and he leans forward, trying to intimidate me. He thinks that just because of his size he can do this, but hasn’t he learned?

He never fucking learns.

“Who says I have standards at all?” he mutters and then reaches forward to grab me, but I maneuver, grabbing on to his wrists and knocking him sideways. His chest hits my desk with a loud clatter, and I press myself against his back, my mouth moving to his ear.

“Mr. Morris. Are you trying to come at me? In my office?”

He murmurs something under his breath and tries to stand up, but I grab his arm and pull it behind his back. He grunts, and I watch as his flush works its way up from the collar of his shirt and bleeds across his face.

“Remember what I said. I always win. You have yet to best me, so why even try?”

I press up against the back of his thighs and feel his body shudder slightly.

Fuck, what is his deal? Getting sucked off by a guy in his office, but insisting he’s not gay. And yet here he is, bent over my desk, trembling for me. This man is so far in the closet, he’s in goddamn Narnia.

“Would you rather I just give up?” he hisses, and I press into him a little harder.

“You’d like that, me giving you permission to just quit. You won’t fucking quit, you won’t give up until I tell you you can.”

He lets out a puff of breath, his body trembling a little more, and I can’t help but lean against him, my cock hardening against his ass. I press my hand against the back of his neck and hold him down for a moment longer, admiring his large body under mine.

Fuck, what would it be like to control this man, to make him come. He’s not my usual type, but I can see the appeal.

A small, soft groan escapes his mouth and my entire body is lit on fire, but at the same time, I can’t do this. I can’t fucking do it. He’s not ready.

And I don’t want it. I really fucking don’t. My dick is wrong.

I don’t have time to baby someone, to carry them out of the closet. I don’t fucking have the patience for that shit.

And still, here I am, forcing him to submit and getting off on it.

“You ready to get up and behave like a fucking civilized person?” I ask, my lips hitting his earlobe once more, relishing in the fact that I’m pressed up against him, like I’m fucking his tight ass. His eyelids flutter, and he swallows.

“Get the fuck off me,” he murmurs, but his words are weak, needy. He doesn’t want me to move. He wants me to stay just like this.

I could probably peel his pants down his thighs and grab onto his cock and get him off. He’d let me.

But I won’t.

Without another word, I push off him and the arm that I’d been holding behind his back falls to the side. He pushes himself up but doesn’t turn around. Just stares at the ground for a moment, his chest heaving. I can see his back moving up and down with each intake of breath.

Then his hands move to the front of his body and I know for a fact that he’s adjusting his hard cock.

“Now, you done throwing a tantrum?” I ask, my voice low and strained. God, I want him. I want to fucking own him.

“I’m not a child.”

“You’re acting like one. Now get your shit together and let’s go to dinner. Shiloh will be happy you’re joining us.”

He turns around and eyes me, his cheeks still a pretty pink. “I don’t know if I want to go.”

I step up to him and my hand clutches his tie, pulling him against me, his hard cock pressing against my stomach. “You’re going with me and you’re going to eat.”

He scoffs and peers up at me through those thick eyelashes.

Fuck, I hate him, but goddamnit, he’s hot.