Page 48 of Gambler's Conceit

But he’s also watching the stage, not me.

I shouldn’t care.

That should be a good thing. It means I don’t have to work so hard to pretend that I’mfine.

It isn’t.

I run my hand up and down his cock, squeezing and teasing him, as I rest my head against his shoulder again. I close my eyes, starting to drift. He isn’t paying attention to me, so I don’t need to pay attention to him, either. All he wants is my hand, my touch, and fuck, I wish that didn’t hurt for some inexplicable reason.

Weren’t we having a nice time at the bar? We’d just been… talking.

He’d acted like he cared about my opinions.

He’d listened to me.

Now I’m nothing again.

Maybe I’d brought this upon myself by turning this sexual, but I’d needed the distraction. Now that I have it, though, I’m finding it’s not what I expected it to be.

Even as he laughs at the show, and his breath occasionally catches as I touch him just right, I dissociate more and more from the moment. He doesn’t need me to be here, not really. I could be replaced with a cocksleeve for all he knows or cares.

I tighten my grip, and Havoc gasps.

“Shit, Seven…” Havoc squeezes my shoulder. “I like some pain, but maybe not right now.”

Distantly, I register his words, and I adjust my touch to something more to his liking. “Sorry,” I tell him, running my tongue along his throat before nipping at the skin. “This too much for you?”

Havoc exhales heavily and his eyes slide shut. “Fuck… gonna make a mess. Should probably stop. I’ll plow you later.”

Am I disappointed or relieved? I’m not sure. I blink a few times, trying to come back to myself, and I pout at him. “Promise?”

“Definitely.” Havoc tilts my chin up and kisses me hard. Now I gasp, clinging to his shirt and unsure of what’s going on. I don’t know whether I like it, either, because it brings me back into the moment—whether I like it or not.

“Okay,” I whisper.

Havoc moves my hand away from his lap and somehow manages to stuff his erection back into his jeans. He settles again, jacket still over his lap, and turns his attention back to the show.

I can’t focus on it. I want to slide my hand back onto his crotch and get back to the part of myself where I don’t have to feel this—any of this. I close my eyes, but I can’t return to the distracted state of mind I crave so desperately.

My body doesn’t feel like my own. I’m trembling, and I rest my head on Havoc’s shoulder again to remind him that I’m still here.

He briefly pulls me closer to him, but that’s his only reaction.

I don’t know how long it takes for the show to finally end, but the applause surprises me. Havoc gets up with the rest of the audience to give the performers a standing ovation.

When the lights brighten once more, I let Havoc help me up.

He gives me a strange look. “You didn’t enjoy the show?”

I offer him my brightest smile. “Of course I did,” I reassure him. “Maybe not as much as you did, though.” I smirk at him, then grab his hand. “Come on. I need you.”

Havoc lets me drag him out of the auditorium. I head toward the hotel elevators, but Havoc suddenly stops and pulls me back.

I glance at him with a brittle smile. “My room is that way.”

“I know someplace closer,” Havoc says, and he leads me to anEmployees Onlydoor.

There’s a hallway on the other side, but the first door is a private, single-occupant bathroom. Havoc locks the door behind him.