CHAPTER TEN
Dash had breakfast ready by the time Thorne was out of the shower and dressed again—this time in cargo shorts and a T-shirt. Dash hadn’t even realized he owned any normal-people clothes.
“What?” Thorne asked, catching Dash staring at him.
“Nothing.”
“You’re staring.”
“You’re hot.”
Thorne narrowed his eyes.
“You’re wearing casual clothes like the rest of us peasants.”
“Ha. I don’t wear suits all the time.”
“No,” Dash agreed, “sometimes you go naked.”
“Would you prefer that?”
Dash considered the offer. “You know I would. But then we might not actually eat breakfast, and I’m starving.”
“Me too. It smells fantastic.”
“Thank you.” Dash gestured toward the dining table. “This way, sir.”
Dash had set two places with glasses of orange juice, coffee cups, and cloth napkins he’d found in a drawer in the dining area. “Have a seat. There’s coffee in the carafe. Might I ask why you own a thousand-dollar coffee machine if you don’t make your own coffee?”
“I make it sometimes. I’m not utterly helpless, you know.”
Dash studied him. “Hmmm… Maybe.”
Thorne rolled his eyes.
Dash prepared two plates and brought them to the table. “Veggie omelets and morning-glory muffins.”
Thorne eyed the muffins. “Those look suspiciously healthy.”
“They’re delicious. Something tells me healthy is not a normal part of your diet.”
Thorne frowned. “You said I was in perfectly good shape.”
“That’s irrelevant. You can have a nice body and still not eat properly. I doubt you eat as often as you should either.”
Thorne looked like he was going to protest, but then he smiled instead. “Thank you for making breakfast.”
“It’s my pleasure.” Dash loved cooking for other people and, based on his reaction to the cupcakes, he’d decided Thorne would be an appreciative audience.
Dash sat down just as Thorne took a bite of omelet. “This is amazing. What did you do to it?”
“Nothing special. It’s just an omelet.”
Thorne shook his head. “I’ve had plenty of omelets. This is on another plane of existence.”
Dash laughed. “I took my time. I sautéed the vegetables, seasoned them, cooked the eggs slowly, but there’s no big secret.”
Thorne studied him for a moment. “You’re hiding something.”
“I’m not. I swear.”
Still watching him carefully, Thorne took a bite of muffin. His face lit up as he chewed. “Wow, this is so good I don’t even care if it’s healthy.”
“It’s not that healthy, but it does have carrot and zucchini in it.”
“Trying to get all my veggies in me at once?” Thorne asked.
“Something like that.”
After breakfast, Thorne helped Dash load the dishwasher, something Dash hadn’t expected. “You cooked for me,” Thorne said, obviously thinking that was explanation enough.
“Doesn’t the personal chef usually do the cooking and the cleaning up?”
Thorne shook his head. “I’d have the maid do the cleaning, but since mine’s not coming today, I’ll just have to get my hands dirty.”
When they finished, Thorne stood at the counter, sipping coffee. Dash came up behind him and circled his waist. “Have you got time for some distraction?”
Thorne glanced at the clock on the stove. “I wish, but I really need to tackle some work. Although…”
“What’s that dirty mind of yours cooking up?” Dash stepped closer and palmed Thorne’s cock.
Thorne groaned and placed a hand on top of Dash’s. “I need to send some information off by noon. How much of the day do you have free?”
“I don’t have to be anywhere until three.”
“Stay. Watch TV or whatever while I work and then…”
“And then?” Dash asked, wanting to hear him say it.
“And then I’m going to fuck you.”
Dash shivered. “That’s exactly what I hoped you were going to say.”
“I know I’ll need to pay for the day. I’m good with that.”
“Sheila will bill you. I’ll send her a message.”
“Okay. I’ve got about five hundred channels if you want to chill by the TV or—”
“TV sounds good. I should rest up for later.”
“Yes, you should.”
THORNE GLANCED UP from his laptop every few minutes. He couldn’t stop watching Dash. How did he manage to look so damn hot lying on the couch watching television?
A flaw in the open floorplan of Thorne’s apartment—which wasn’t usually a problem since he rarely had anyone there—was that he couldn’t avoid Dash unless he went into the bedroom and shut the rarely-used door. But he didn’t have that kind of self-discipline. How could he deny himself the view? Dash was wearing a truly tiny pair of shorts and a white T-shirt that clung to his shoulders and pecs. He appeared utterly relaxed as if he’d become one with the couch.
“You need to relax.”
Dash’s words echoed in his head. He wasn’t sure he was capable of just lying around like Dash could, except right after Dash fucked the hell out of him.
He’s good for you. That obnoxious voice inside again, the one that fought the rigid schedule Thorne usually enforced on himself.
He’s dangerous for me. He makes me want things.
Are those things so bad?
Maybe not. But Dash was twenty-two. No matter how much he enjoyed the sex, he wasn’t likely to be interested in a relationship with a man as old as Thorne. He’s doing a job. One he’s good at. Thorne was arrogant enough to believe Dash truly enjoyed their time together, but it couldn’t be anything more than erotic enjoyment.
He forced himself to focus on work long enough to get his report sent off by eleven forty-five. As soon as he received a reply confirming that the team leader of the project had all the information he needed, Thorne closed his laptop and stood. As he stretched, he watched a few seconds of Dash’s movie. Based on the hairstyles and clothing, Thorne guessed it was from the eighties. “What are you watching?”
“You’re kidding, right?” Dash looked over the back of the couch at him like he was nuts.
“What do you mean?”
“You’ve never seen this?”
Thorne studied the movie for several more seconds. “Oh, it’s that John Cusack one.”
Dash picked up the remote and hit pause. “Say Anything. It’s a classic. Come here right now and watch the rest with me.” Dash spread his legs, making room for Thorne to settle between them. Thorne was powerless to resist the offer.
At first he was too busy tracing patterns on Dash’s firm thighs and enjoying the feel of Dash’s hard chest behind his back to pay much attention to the movie, but by the time John Cusack held up his boom box, blasting Peter Gabriel at his girlfriend’s house, Thorne could see the appeal, at least if you were overly romantic.
“I still can’t believe you hadn’t seen this,” Dash said as the credits rolled. “I love all these old movies.”
“Casablanca or Breakfast at Tiffany’s are old movies, not the Brat Pack.”
Dash waved off his comment as if it shouldn’t matter.
“I didn’t watch a lot of movies as a…” Thorne’s words trailed off in horror. “Fuck, how old were you when this came out?”
“Not born.”
“Wow. Now I feel ancient.”
“After last night? Don’t be ridiculous. You’ve got life in you yet.”
Thorne shook his head. Dash was born in the ’90s; that was mind-boggling.
“So what about The Breakfast Club, have you seen that one?”
Thorne nodded.
“Sixteen Candles? Some Kind of Wonderful?”
“Nope.”
Dash sighed. “You were so deprived.”
He had been, deprived of a social life anyway, not of other things, education included. “I was busy.”
“Studying?” Dash asked.
“You guessed it.”
“I wouldn’t have thought you’d have needed to study too much in school. You seem like the naturally smart type.”
Thorne sighed. If only that had been the case. “I’m dyslexic. I’ve learned to deal with it, but it kept me from reading well when I was a kid and that affected my grades. My parents got me a tutor, and while I’m thankful for a lot of what I learned from her, they weren’t okay with me simply improving my skills. I had to be the best in school. No kid of theirs was going to let a disability cause them to make anything other than straight A’s. I spent a lot of time with my tutor. And a lot of time on my schoolwork.”
Dash shook his head. “That sucks.”
“Yeah, it did, but look at me now. I’m the success story my father wanted me to be. By the time I was in high school I was thriving academically, but my parents, my father especially, could never believe I’d succeed if he let up the pressure even a tiny bit. I graduated top of my class, exactly like he wanted, but I did it for me, not him. I see my parents for major holidays or if I can’t avoid it. Otherwise, I only talk to my sister.”
“Are you two close?”
He nodded. “As much as an arrogant ass and his popular married sister with a perfect house, golden retriever, and 2.5 kids can be.”
Dash glanced around. “Your house looks pretty damn perfect to me.”
He snorted. “No wife, no kids, no letting my parents tell me what and where to buy.”
“Ah. Did they pick out your sister’s house?”
“No, but they approved of her choices.”
“Is that why you work all the time?” Dash asked. “To make sure you stay a success story?”
“That used to be why. Now I think I’m just used to it. I don’t know how to do anything else. I tried having a life outside work for a while when I was first hired at Symthson, but it didn’t last.”
“What did you do for fun back then?”
Fucked my married boss. Had a fucking midlife crisis at twenty-eight. “That was when I was sailing. I actually spent time outside, not just at a desk or on a treadmill, but now…I spend all my time looking for the next client and figuring out how to hold the ones I’ve got.”
Dash watched him, seeming to know there was more Thorne wasn’t telling him. “If you lost a client or two, would that be the worst thing ever?”
“No.” Thorne needed to change the subject. “You know what would be?”
“What?”
“If you had to leave before I had a chance to fuck you.”
Thorne didn’t miss Dash’s quick intake of breath.
“Is that right?” Dash asked.
Thorne nodded. Dash rose onto his knees and pushed at Thorne’s chest until he lay back against the end of the couch. Dash reached for the fastenings of Thorne’s shorts. “Let’s see what we can do to get this party started, then.”
When Dash had freed Thorne’s cock, he sucked at the head, gently, no more than a tease. Thorne groaned, enjoying the warmth of Dash’s tongue and the sensual, barely there touches. By the time he took Thorne deep into his mouth, Thorne was starving for him, but still, he didn’t fight the pace. There was something incredibly erotic about the way Dash was taking his time. Eventually though, Thorne felt the need for more, the need to drive into Dash’s ass and make him beg. He gripped Dash’s shoulders. “Enough.”
Dash looked up at him. “Really?”
“Yes, I want your ass, and I’m not letting you distract me anymore.”
Dash smiled and shifted position so he was leaning over Thorne. Thorne looked up at him. The lust in Dash’s eyes stole his breath. “Fuck,” he said, more an exhale than a word. “Kiss me.”
Dash did. Thorne let him take the lead, a long, thorough exploration, warm, soft lips pressing against Thorne’s, Dash’s tongue sliding over his, tasting, licking the roof of his mouth. Thorne sucked at Dash’s lower lip. He loved how soft it was.
By the time Dash pulled back, his breathing was ragged, and he stared down at Thorne, wide-eyed, shock on his face.
“You feel that too?” A dangerous question, but Thorne was feeling dangerous, feeling like he was on the edge of something, and he wanted to jump.
For a moment Thorne was sure Dash did and he was going to admit it; then Dash schooled his expression. “Shut up and fuck me.”
Yeah, that was what he needed to do. No more foolish fantasies. “Bedroom.”
Dash scrambled up, slipped, and caught himself on the coffee table. He stumbled drunkenly toward the bed, and Thorne followed, pausing only to grab lube and a condom from Dash’s bag. Dash settled on his back on the bed, legs spread open for Thorne. Fucking him face-to-face was a bad idea. It was only going to make the ache in his chest worse if he watched Dash’s face as he moved inside him. But no way in hell was he going to give up the chance. This “relationship” could all come crashing down at any moment. If Dash realized what he was feeling, surely he’d run.
He squirted lube on his fingers, dropped the bottle on the bed, and sat on his knees between Dash’s legs. “So fucking hot,” he murmured as he toyed with Dash’s ass, running his finger around the edge of his entrance, giving him nothing more than a little pressure.
Dash moved his hips almost imperceptibly, obviously trying to stay still, to keep Thorne from seeing how desperate he was.
“You want this?” Thorne asked as he entered Dash with a finger, slowly working his way deeper.
Dash gasped and tilted his head back, eyes closed. “So fucking much.” God, he was beautiful, and this all seemed so unreal.
“Do you really want this, me fucking you?” He was hanging over the cliff now.
Dash opened his eyes and looked at Thorne. There was fear there and uncertainty. “Thorne?”
“I know I shouldn’t ask that. I know that’s not what this is.”
“I do. I want it.” Dash closed his eyes as if he couldn’t look at Thorne after his confession.
Thorne pulled his finger out and grabbed the condom, so worked up, physically and emotionally, he could barely roll it on. He slicked his cock and then he was there, pushing into Dash, moving slowly, giving Dash a chance to adjust, though he thought he would die if he didn’t bury himself immediately. He needed to be balls deep in Dash, to be as close to him as he could. What was his problem? Insanity? Stress sending him over the edge?
Dash was panting, his leg muscles hard as rock where they lay over Thorne’s shoulders. “You okay?”
Dash nodded frantically. “Yes! Just…need more!”
Thorne needed more too. He thrust, finally going in all the way.
“Fuck!” Dash cried.
Thorne hung over Dash, trying to breathe, trying not to fucking come before he even got started, because the hot clasp of Dash’s ass—having him there, begging, need so plain on his face, body spread out for Thorne—was almost more than he could take.
Thorne wasn’t going to rush this. He kept his rhythm slow and steady. Dash writhed beneath him. “You’re killing me. Get on with it.”
Thorne cupped the back of Dash’s neck, raising his head so they could kiss again. He’d forgotten how good kissing could be. Their tongues fought, shoving their way past one another. Thorne slid his lips along Dash’s throat and sucked at the spot where his neck and shoulder met, wanting to mark him, knowing he shouldn’t.
“Do it!” Dash demanded.
He bit again, harder this time. Dash cried out and hot cum splattered on Thorne’s chest. He let go of Dash’s shoulder and drove in hard. No more slow, no more careful. He had to come. Right fucking then. Release hit like a punch, and he was flying, shouting Dash’s name, his real name, Riley.
Thorne lay there, knowing his blunder might be unforgivable, but he couldn’t move, couldn’t apologize. He buried his face in Ri-Dash’s neck.
Dash’s hands stroked his back; he didn’t pull away, didn’t tense with anger. Maybe Thorne hadn’t ruined everything after all.
When Thorne thought he could sit up without passing out, he rose off Dash, but he didn’t look him in the eye. He was too much of a coward. He fumbled his way to the bathroom, disposed of the condom, and splashed cold water on his face. His reflection showed every one of his forty-two years. Twenty more than Dash. Twenty. What the fuck was he thinking? He cleaned himself up, wet a washcloth, and brought it to Dash. Thorne wasn’t ready to face him, but he couldn’t put it off any longer.
“I’m sorry.” More words piled up behind those, but he shut his mouth, locking them in.
Dash watched him.
After a few seconds, Thorne couldn’t stand the silence. He sorted through the things he wanted to say and found something appropriate. “Does it help to know I’ve apologized more to you in a few weeks than I have to anyone in years?”
Dash smiled then. “Maybe. I’d like to think I bring out the good in you.”
Thorne’s chest tightened. He finally looked into Dash’s eyes. Thorne didn’t see what he’d expected. Dash didn’t appear angry; wary maybe, but not angry.
“I crossed a line, and I shouldn’t have,” Thorne said.
Dash nodded. “I actually kind of liked it. But please don’t do it again.”
“I won’t.” Thorne’s heart was beating impossibly fast. He should be thrilled by Dash’s response, but he was terrified. Anger would have been better because now he had hope that Dash felt more than lust for him.
“Thanks. I’ve never been with anyone who called me by my real name.”
“You mean any clients?”
“No. Not just clients. You’re not the only one who’s fucked up about relationships.”
Thorne was having a difficult time processing that. “Why would a gorgeous young man like you have such a problem?”
“I could ask the same thing. You’re hot as fuck, in great shape for an old guy, and—” Thorne threw a pillow at him.
Dash laughed as he caught it and tossed it to the floor. “You’re rich, successful.”
“Yes. Most people see those attributes,” Thorne agreed.
Dash nodded, obviously getting it then. “But they don’t see you?”
“I have a hard time letting anyone in, but I would’ve thought you’d have it easy.”
Dash shook his head. “I tried dating before I took this job. None of the men I went out with wanted what I wanted.”
“And what is that?” Thorne asked. “What do you want?”
Dash blushed, which Thorne found ridiculously endearing. “It’s dumb.”
Thorne hooked a finger under Dash’s chin and raised his head so Dash had to look at him. “No, it’s what you want. Don’t let anyone tell you it’s dumb.”
“It will sound crazy considering what I do now.”
“Who cares what you do? What you are is a beautiful, kind, talented young man whose job involves making closed-off, arrogant assholes like me understand that there is pleasure in the world and that letting go of their stuffy schedules on occasion is a good thing.”
Dash’s eyes widened. “Really? That’s what you see?”
Thorne nodded. “It is. So tell me. What do you want?”
“I want romance. True love. A fairy tale. I want to have a house. I want to cook for my husband. I want to build things together.” He shook his head. “God, I sound like a dork.”
“No, you don’t.” Thorne had dreamed of those things once himself. He’d dreamed of Clint leaving his wife, making a new life with Thorne. Then Clint had died, and Thorne had given up that dream.
“There’s someone out there who can build that dream with you,” Thorne said. Then he laughed at himself. “Wow. Now I sound like a fucking sap.”
Dash grinned. “Don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me.”
But Thorne had so many secrets, and the place inside where he used to keep them locked up was threatening to break apart.