The Professional Lover II (18+) | [Complete]

19 : Resisting It

Finishing up with Daniel, my head is still spinning. The power he has over me, the things he makes me feel ... It's as if I'm falling for him. Falling. And not into a pit of despair. What the hell is wrong with me?

After making a quick stop at my apartment to shower, I make it over to Remy's place much later than I planned. A part of me hates myself for not getting over here sooner, but it felt so much better to drown the emotions than feel them. I already know he's doing the exact same thing.

It's a bad day for him. It's a bad day for both of us.

I walk inside to hear Get Ur Freak On playing loudly throughout the apartment. Remy is dancing in the living room near the coffee table shirtless, his hips swaying inside his old pair of gray, Northeastern University sweatpants. He's actually a good dancer.

... When he's sober.

"Remy," I call to him.

He turns and displays a wide, squinty-eyed smile. "Mags!" He holds a glass of bourbon, the small amount sloshing inside it as he continues his dance. "Baby, you were right," he slowly slurs. "Misses Elliott is so good!"

Baby? "It's Missy Elliott, dumbass. How much have you been drinking?" I glance over and find the evidence still sitting atop the coffee table, more in the kitchen along the counter and in the sink. He's been going for a while.

I sigh with my disappointment. It's hard to be mad at him for anything, but especially hard on this day. I walk over and take the glass from his hand to keep him from spilling it onto his expensive rug.

He laughs he continues to thrust his hips, his ridiculous body looking a bit leaner than usual. Has he been eating? "Dance with me, Maggie," he slurs.

"Remy, you're really drunk."

"Dance with me!"

"I'd rather not." He grumbles rather than speaking and wraps his arm around my waist. He grabs my leg and lifts me from the ground. "Remy!" I wrap my arms around his shoulders to support myself, only a little afraid he'll trip and kill me when his huge frame comes crashing down. "Please, please don't drop me. Or fall on me."

"Shh ..." He sways us back and forth, bobbing with the beat. I drape my arms over his shoulders and give into the fact that, even while drunk, he's still an unstoppable brick wall.

The chorus ends and he chuckles to himself. I feel us start to fall and let out a shriek. My back lands gently against the couch cushions, and Remy lies on top of me, his arms wrapped around me. I sigh and hug him back as he hums with the music and nuzzles his cheek against mine. He presses a kiss against my cheek, my jaw ... and then my neck. I still when he runs his tongue along my skin before he nips it with his lips again.

"Remy," I scold him. He does this sometimes when he drinks too much, but I know he'd never take it further. He's way too drunk to get it up anyway -- a fact I easily confirm when he grinds his hips against mine. "Remy, seriously." I run my hands over his head, soothing him before I say, "You need to stop drinking. We have somewhere to be in the morning, remember?"

He hums against my neck but leans away. "I'm just tryin' to have fun."

"Are you? Or are you trying to forget what day it is?" I feel his muscles tense beneath my palms but relax soon after. He is the only person in the world that feels worse on this day than I do. "I miss her too."

His head buries back into my neck and his arms tighten around my waist like a hug. We lie there for a moment, the music fading out into the next song, and I feel his breathing start to quiver slightly when he inhales. Part of me is jealous I can't cry, another part wishes I could just to give him some company.