Under His Charm: Quarantined with My Boss on St. Patrick's Day by Jamie Knight

Author:Jamie Knight [Knight, Jamie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-03-11T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter Six

The cold had returned. Nothing under my hand but the cool smoothness of the sheet as I reached out for Ryan’s familiar comfort. It was dark out, but I couldn’t tell what time it was. Could I have passed out all day? I peeked under the covers.

Yep, still naked, except my collar was back on. I touched it lightly, tracing the spot where the stiff leather met my tender skin. It felt familiar in a pleasant way. Like a smell that brought you back to a better time. I’d noticed its absence while I was out for my doomed swim, but not in a positive way.

Ryan’s reasoning for taking it off was likely sound, but I was still glad to have it back on. Its soft squeeze like a constant hug. Unselfconsciously, I slipped out from under the covers and went in search for Ryan. I wanted to see him, to touch him, to let him know I was okay. It was probably still too early for us to fuck, but if we could, I would’ve like to that too.

He did not sound happy. Not angry but sad, his voice emphatic without reaching the point of a yell. It still scared me but for a very different reason. Far more afraid of what Ryan might do to himself, knowing he would never hurt me.

I tried to make out what he was saying, but the door to his office was closed, muffling the sound. I was just about to put my ear to the door when the shouting stopped.

“It’s okay, you can come in.”

Realizing he was talking to me, I opened the door and peeked in. Ryan was sitting on the couch as benign as ever.

“I hope I didn’t wake you,” he said, scrubbing roughly at his face.

“No, I was already awake, you were gone.”

“Yeah, sorry about that. An, er, emergency came up. I had to make a call.”

“It sounded important.”

“No, except maybe to me.”

I went over to the couch and took him into my arms, Ryan putting his head onto my shoulder. We must have looked ridiculous, based on height difference alone.

“It sounded bad,” I pressed.

“No, not really, nothing that can do any damage. Just some silly nightmares is all.”

“Does it happen a lot?” I asked, no stranger to nightmares myself.

“Every night, since I was young. There was no real help then. Feelings and problems weren’t really things to be talked about, particularly in polite company. The very thought of one of the kids in my school going to therapy would have caused a scandal the family would never recover from. If you couldn’t be happy, you pretended to be. Anything else was the height of rudeness.

“That’s fucked up,” I blurted, hoping I hadn’t spoken out of turn.”

“No argument there, pet. I suppose you get used to it after a while. I didn’t even think about it anymore. At least not telling anyone. I thought about what happened all the time. Remember when I said I was a black sheep?”

“Sure.

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