Take Me

Chapter Eighteen: Broken

On the cab ride over, Milo rehearsed his breakup speech. He had it all planned out. He would walk into the apartment with all the confidence he possessed. He would ask Tommy to give them some privacy. Then he would lay it all out. His career came first. That their relationship was causing him to lose focus. Of course, there wouldn't be any mention of Kenji and the threats the designer made. The last thing he wanted was to cause friction, not only between friends but between business partners.

Good thing they hadn’t gone too far. Good thing they hadn’t spent that much time together. Or that they hadn’t gotten to know each other better. Cutting things off was for the best. They could still move on with their lives as if nothing had happened.

The instant the thought settled in his mind, his heart clenched. The pain was so unexpected that he bent over and clutched his chest. The cab driver asked if he was all right. Unable to speak, he raised his hand and waved away the concern. Taking a deep breath, he sat up and leaned back against the seat.

Beneath his palm, his heart beat erratically. It was enough to steal his breath. His ribcage seemed to grow two sizes two small with each inhalation. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t seem to get enough oxygen into his body, leaving him light-headed.

Despite feeling like he was about to die, he knew what he had to do. That this between them couldn’t continue. For both their sakes.

Ready or not, once the cab pulled onto the curb of his building, Milo stepped out and faced his fate. The doorman greeted him a good evening. Normally, he would respond, but that night all he could muster was a tight grin. Looking straight ahead, he made a beeline for the bank of elevators.

Thankfully one opened, releasing one of the tenants who came down to walk her dog. Her greeting went unacknowledged. He pressed the button to his floor and fished out his keys from his sweatpants.

He hadn’t bothered changing into something more formal, like a suit. It was a waste of time. Get it over with. That was the phrase that kept repeating itself over and over again in his head as he stuck the key into the lock and pushed inside.

“Why won’t you tell me where he is, kuso yarō?”

Kaz’s frustrated question, said in that commanding tone of his, was enough to make Milo pause at the entrance, keys in his hand. The man still looked impeccable in a three-piece suit he walked out of the apartment in that morning.

Was it just that morning that he had cooked Milo breakfast?

So many hours ago. A perfect time. Where the world didn’t seem to exist. Could they rewind and stay in that moment of bliss forever?

Yet there was no ignoring the man in the apartment.

Kaz seemed so big, pacing in the common area of the two-bedroom Milo shared with Tommy. No matter how hard Milo tried, he couldn’t help but stare in admiration at the fuming Japanese businessman. Strands of his straight, black hair fell over his forehead from shoving his fingers into them again and again. Milo ached to touch him. Brush those strands away. But it wasn’t that simple. Not anymore.

“Finally!” Tommy exclaimed from the couch, raising both hands and then dropping them. “What took you so long?”

No matter how many times he had rehearsed the scenario in his head, Milo wasn’t prepared for the power of those blue eyes on him. Kaz had a way of looking at him that seemed to unearth all his secrets like the man knew him to the furthest reaches of his soul. Longing. Worry. Then dread flitted through Kaz’s features. Milo must not have been hiding his grief well enough. He dropped his gaze to the hardwood floor and gave into running his fingers through his still damp hair.

“Tommy, will you give us a minute alone, please?” Milo didn’t know how he managed to speak without his voice trembling.

“You sure?”

He lifted his gaze to look past Kaz’s shoulder at his friend, who stood. “Yeah.”

One thing he liked about Tommy? He listened. He might fight Milo on his decisions from time to time, but when asked to do something he never hesitated. The model rounded the suddenly still Kaz and squeezed Milo on the shoulder before grabbing his coat and leaving the apartment.

No matter how gently Tommy pulled the door closed, the click still caused Milo to jerk in surprise. They were finally alone and the silence was heavy. Kaz was staring intently at him. Milo opened his mouth to begin his carefully crafted speech, but words failed him at the last second. It also didn’t help that his throat refused to relax.

“Where were you?”

The question made him meet Kaz’s gaze. It was asked so gently that the worry laced with the words broke Milo’s heart. How he wanted to cross the distance between them and just sink into those powerful arms he knew deep down wouldn’t deny him access. Maybe not after that night. Not after what he was about to do for the sake of his career.

“Jiro came to pick you up but you weren’t at work. He said the woman at the front desk said you left for lunch and never came back. No one would tell me where you were. Not even that jerk you call a best friend.”

Milo silently thanked Tommy for his loyalty. He may not know the circumstances, but his friend did know to call the townhouse first. Sometimes he counted it a miracle to have someone like him in his life.

“I needed some time to think,” Milo was finally able to say around cottony texture the inside of his mouth had become.

“I was worried about you.”

“I’m a grown man and can certainly take care of myself.” Milo let the spark of annoyance grow. If it was what would help him get through the night then so be it. “I don’t think this between you and me is going to work.”

“I don’t understand.” Kaz took a step forward. “What happened between my texting you about dinner plans and now?”

As if an invisible force pushed him, Milo moved toward the kitchen. Maybe a glass of water for his dry mouth would help. But he never made it to the fridge. Kaz grabbed his arm in a tight grip and yanked him toward the nearest bedroom, which happened to be Milo’s.

With what seemed like a flick of Kaz’s wrist, Milo was thrown onto his bed. The protest never made it out of his mouth because he was flipped over onto his stomach. In swift, practiced movements, Kaz began fastening his wrists together with a necktie—the one he had worn with his suit.

"What are you doing?" Milo asked in a panic.

“Getting some answers,” came the reply as Kaz secured the other end of the tie to the headboard.

“But you—”

Teeth against his ear cut off the rest of Milo’s sentence. He gasped.

“Where were you?” Kaz asked, unzipping Milo’s hoody and baring his chest.

“What does it matter?”

A thumb flicked over one n****e. “Just answer the question.”

“My mother’s townhouse,” he said breathlessly as that same thumb made slow circling motions over the puckered flesh.

“Why were you there instead of work?”

Milo bit down on his lower lip hard to keep another moan in. He wasn’t going to enjoy Kaz’s hands on him, dammit!

“I needed some time to think,” he said with a pant.

“About what?”

“How to break up with you.”

Kaz’s hand paused in its downward journey along Milo’s torso.

“Naze?”

The question came out in a hoarse whisper. If Milo thought his heart had already broken earlier, it broke, even more, the moment the man torturing answers out of him asked why. He had to concentrate, somehow pull all the blood back to his brain that had migrated south during the assault on his senses.

“I told you,” Milo said, barely maintaining what little control he had left. “It’s work. Ever since I met you, my performance has slipped. You’re Japanese, you should understand what it means to excel at a job.”

“I don’t buy it,” Kaz growled. “You’re lying.”

“Think what you want. It won’t change the fact that I’m backing away from whatever the hell this is we’ve got going on.”

With hands he had no idea could be so rough, Kaz yanked down Milo’s sweatpants and boxers, baring his rigid erection. Then Kaz closed his fingers around the shaft in a none-too-gentle grip. Milo hissed, trying to get away. But where could he go pinned between a large man and the mattress?

The weight above him wasn’t crushing. Kaz used his hips to pin Milo down, making him aware of how large Kaz was. The other man’s body enveloped him completely. All the more driving home the idea of who possessed all the power.

Each breath Milo took filled his lungs with that spicy musk. It never failed to turn his insides to molten heat. The hard length of him pressed against Milo’s ass. Memories of how Kaz tasted assailed him. He bucked against that rigid erection, his body begging to be filled—stretched to its fullest. The sweet ache of it was enough to pull a moan from Milo’s throat.

Then Kaz eased his grip and began stroking Milo’s c**k. “Tell me the truth.”

“I am telling you the truth,” Milo grit out, locking his legs in an attempt to keep his hips from bucking into the hand pleasuring him.

As much as Milo wanted to ignore the sensations riding him, it was no use. The scent of Kaz. The feel of him. The touch of his hand. It was all too much for Milo to bear.

“I don’t think you are.”

Milo gasped when Kaz removed his hand. He had been so close to coming that he could feel the pressure at the base of his spine. Breathing hard, he pushed his face against his pillow. His blood roared in his ears.

“It doesn’t matter,” Milo said when he regained some of his composure.

Again the hand returned to his shaft, resuming its maddening caress. Milo whimpered. From pleasure or from pain he had no clue. In all the scenarios he had imagined while in the cab, his current situation was farthest from reality.

“Tell me the truth and I will let you come,” Kaz whispered into his ear, sending delicious shivers all over his too hot skin.

Milo’s grip on the tie binding his wrists together tightened as he forced himself to say between clenched teeth, “I am telling you the truth.”

Once more the hand released his c**k to rest on his hip. It seemed like his entire body groaned in the moment. To be denied release by the one man he craved was more mentally and physically taxing than when he had ingested that godawful aphrodisiac. Milo was on the verge of tears by the time his breathing had resembled something normal again.

“Please,” he said, not knowing what he was actually begging for.

“Are you ready to tell me the truth?” Kaz rubbed circles around the head of Milo’s c**k with his thumb. “Because I can feel that you’re ready. Tell me why you’re doing this and I will let you come. Let me ease your pain, Milo.”

Forehead against the pillow, Milo shook his head. He damned Kenji to the deepest pits of hell for putting him through the torture of Kaz denying him pleasure. Had the designer known that Kaz wouldn’t take no for an answer? Wouldn’t believe his reason for breaking up? Or maybe Milo wasn’t convincing enough.

He opened his eyes wide at the thought. An almost Zen-like calm came over him. Kaz had to believe that he was telling the truth. Telling him it was over wouldn’t be enough. He had to believe that there was no room for him in Milo’s life.

With new resolve granting him much needed strength, he looked over his shoulder at Kaz. He made sure that tears welled in his eyes as he said through clenched teeth, “I will always choose my career over you.”

The impassive mask Kaz wore broke, revealing a shocked kind of pain that should have sent triumph coursing through Milo's veins. Instead, he hated himself to his core. He had done the impossible and blackened his soul in the process.

In stunned silence, Kaz’s weight eased off, leaving Milo cold and bereft. Then he undid the tie that bound Milo’s wrists together carefully, almost reverently. His last act was to rub circulation back into Milo’s hands before he stepped away from the bed and left the room.

The closing of the front door seemed to echo in the empty apartment. A sense of great loneliness came over Milo. It was the price he had to pay.

Still aroused, yet incredibly heartsick, he curled into the smallest ball he could manage and wept.