I leaned back in my ergonomically correct leather chair, pushing away from the big-screen monitor. It didn’t seem to help the throbbing kink in my neck. Earlier that week, Kathy in HR had chastised me for neglecting my breaks after each hour of computer work, but damn it if I wasn’t distracted every ten minutes by the commotion on the floor below me anyway.

Happy now, Kathy?

I slid a hand down my forehead to pinch the bridge of my nose. How would I ever finish reviewing these annual reports with the thump of dance music and the screech of intoxicated voices interrupting my thoughts? I could only imagine what it was like down there. Too many people and too much noise. I hated when the music was so loud you couldn’t hear yourself think. Mindless bumping and grinding never appealed to me either.

I preferred silence, and I preferred getting work done. And there was never a shortage of it. I knew I should delegate more, but the thought of giving up that responsibility gave me palpitations. It was much too risky. I didn’t get to be the CEO of NetSmash at twenty-seven by taking risks. I got here by making work my priority and doing the job right. Myself.

But currently, all this work had my eyes strained and my body stiff. Even in my OSHA-approved chair.

I glanced out the windows. The sun had gone down, an array of colorfully lit buildings and street lamps replacing it. The sky was dark and inky, the moon covered by thick rain clouds. A typical fall evening in San Francisco.

And now the room smelled like stale coffee—as it coagulated on the slate floor near my desk.

Where was that janitor?

The one with the sexy, crooked top lip and those amazing tattooed forearms. I bet they were rock hard.

Much like my groin if I kept thinking about him.

The man was striking, despite that less than flattering uniform. I’d never been attracted to men like him before. A blue-collar guy with tats? No way. Yet, one look into those crystal blue eyes and he’d taken my breath away.

Maybe I was overworked. That or the unfortunate fact that it had been ages since I’d been with anyone.

Back in the restroom, I’d panicked. He had me, the CEO, panicked. Worried that I wouldn’t get to see his beautiful mouth move again. But speaking Spanish just made me seem more ridiculous. I didn’t mind that he called me out on my lack of sensitivity. Integrity was always attractive.

A firm knock sounded on my door.

“Chaz?”

“Yes” came the deep, raspy reply.

Wow. “Come in.”

Chaz entered the office, holding a mop and bucket. He looked good enough to eat. My mouth watered and I cursed that I hadn’t stopped for dinner.

“Over here,” I motioned, hesitantly standing up from my desk, trusting I was in control of my mouth as well as my lower parts. “I picked up what I could of my mug, but there might still be some sharp pieces around. Be careful.”

Chaz walked over and I smelled his cologne. Musk, with a hint of something sweet. Vanilla maybe? When had janitors started wearing cologne?

“I’ve got protection,” he said, putting down the bucket to snap on rubber gloves.

I caught my temperature rising at the quick upturn of the man’s mouth—that simple grin so unexpected and brilliant. I wasn’t sure if I should watch as Chaz got down on the floor, on all fours, and searched for the ceramic shards, tossing them in the bucket. But I couldn’t look away. His body was captivating. The ease with which he moved while down on the floor reminded me of an animal. A wolf or a tiger.

“I’m sure you could get another coffee down at the party,” he said, leaning back on his knees. The position emphasized his muscular thighs, straining the fabric. I tried not to stare.

“I’d rather gouge my eyes out with this fountain pen,” I said without thinking. I shook off the daze his body had me under.

Chaz chuckled as he got to his feet. Nonetheless graceful. “Not a fan of Halloween parties, I take it?” He removed the gloves and wiped his hands.

“No.” I grabbed my chair and sat back down off to the side. “I don’t do costumes, and I prefer to hear my own thoughts.”

“I hear ya,” he said, dipping the mop in the bucket and wringing it out. Even that was sexy. He slid the mop back and forth over the floor, the muscles in his forearms flexing with each movement. I found myself wanting him to turn away from me so I could see him from behind.

“Duty calls, right?” he said, making my wish come true and reaching over a little as he turned.

His back end was divine. Thick and juicy. “These reports aren’t going to review themselves.” Sweat dampened my undershirt.

Chaz huffed. “You mean the same reports that’ve already been reviewed by each unit, each director, and each VP?”

My fingers hovered over my keyboard. “How do you know that?”

He turned back to look at me, his blue eyes making me forget what I’d asked in the first place.

He shrugged. “I hear things.”

I thought about pressing him for information. He probably did hear things. Possibly what my employees truly thought of me. It would be nice to know, but I thought it might sour the moment. “You never know if an i needs to be dotted or a t crossed.”

Chaz dragged the mop toward him and dunked it in the bucket. “Sounds to me like you’ve got control issues.”

What? “Excuse me?” I turned in my seat.

He tucked the towel he was holding into his back pocket, his arms flexing again. “I’m sorry. That was out of line.”

I blinked, debating whether or not that made me angry. “Then what made you say it?”

He cleared his throat. “You’re burning the midnight oil on Halloween for reports that already shine like diamonds. Yet, you still feel the need to polish them for the hundredth time. Sounds obsessive to me.”

My jaw suddenly ached, and I knew I was grinding my teeth. Who was this guy, thinking he could talk to me like this? With such brazen disregard for authority? Then again, what did I really expect? I didn’t like ass-kissers. Oh god, dash that image.

I lowered my eyes and rubbed the junction between my neck and shoulder. “Just because I’m diligent and like to make sure things are done a certain way.”

“Your way?” He rested the mop against the wall.

“If it’s the right way, yes. But that’s not always the—” my neck tweaked. “Ouch!” I tilted my head to the side and reached back further to massage the burning muscle. But Chaz beat me to it.

“Let me.” Chaz pushed my hand away and began kneading the sore knot.

I tensed initially, but then he hit some magic spot that made my shoulders ease downward. I opened my mouth to protest and groaned instead. Damn, that felt good.

“I’m not a control freak,” I finally managed to say, melting under Chaz’s rub down. My body didn’t seem to know how to react. Shivers zoomed around my limbs. Butterflies fluttered in my gut. Heat radiated under his hands. Cold bit at my spine. I tried to will the physical aside. Why did I care what the janitor thought about my work habits? He didn’t know me well enough to judge.

“You’re a mass of knots,” Chaz replied, and I didn’t mind that he ignored my attempt to deny his accusations, as long as he kept working those gnarled spots with his talented hands.

“I need to get back to work,” I argued, my voice weak even to my own ears. Any more of this and I might do something I’d regret.

“What you need is a break, Mr. Davis.”

His fingers traveled up my neck and into my hair, sending wild sensations all over my scalp and gooseflesh over my skin. He pulled gently at my hair, my senses exploding. I made a hissing noise that sounded like I’d been burned.

No, no, no . . . this was no longer in the realm of professional. The man’s hands were teasing and stroking over my scalp, making my eyes roll in the back of my head and my slacks tight. This was no longer a friendly neck rub from a concerned employee.

So why wasn’t I stopping him?

Because it felt like heaven. I wanted to turn around and check if Chaz was as hard as I was. And if he wasn’t, I wanted to offer anything necessary to get him there.

What? No! This isn’t a porno. It’s my office. I’m the CEO and Chaz is the janitor—which honestly, really did sound like a porno. But no—I needed to stop this now.

“Chaz,” I said, standing quickly and pushing the chair to the side. His hands fell as I turned around to face him. Big mistake. Now we were only inches apart. Slightly shorter than me, he was so much more alluring right there in my space, his body giving off flames. His scent filled my nostrils and I wanted to taste everything in front of me—his neck, his scruffy cheeks, his chin, and his tempting lips. I salivated and closed my mouth, hoping nothing had fallen out.

He just stood there with a small smile, brazenly looking over my face, studying it . . . hungrily.

I squeezed my eyes shut. Get a grip, Trent.

“Thank you for cleaning up . . . and for the neck rub, but I really do think you should go now.”

He licked his lips. Not helping douse my craving for him. Then he took a step back.

Somehow, it didn’t provide the relief I’d hoped for. His eyes alone kept drawing me in, saying unspoken, scandalous things. Things my dick heard loud and clear.

“Let me take control for a while,” he whispered.

How could such a simple phrase both make me want to spit in anger and send a thrill of hot need straight through to my core? Who was I kidding? Chaz was right. I was a control freak. I needed it. It’s what made me who I am. Control was how I ran a multimillion-dollar company despite being young and less experienced than my competition. Letting go of control meant the risk of failure and, more so, letting people see that vulnerable underbelly they’d judge me for—my sexual identity, my preferences, my life choices. Everything personal and private I feared exposing.

And yet, it was so hard maintaining that kind of control. The pressure was insane. The thought of giving it up, if only for a little while, scared me to death. But deep in my bones, it excited me. Chaz excited me. Knowing I could let it go, my only concern to please him, made me rock hard.

Chaz stepped closer, somehow hearing my thoughts. His heat nearly consumed me. Parts of us brushed—and I lost track as sparks alighted all over my body.

I wanted him to leave, but at the same time, I hoped he’d grab me. Hold me. Prevent me from running away and force me to face this desire.

“You need to give me permission,” he said, voice low.

Making me say it was torture. But I understood. Propositioning the CEO, then imposing himself upon me without my consent would be unwise. He was smart and a decent man, which made him even more attractive. Though truth be told, the moment he touched me, I’d be powerless to stop him. I’d be clamoring to do whatever he wanted.

He leaned closer. “Say it,” he whispered, his breath tickling my lips, sending the nerve endings into chaos.

I eyed his hovering mouth. I could lean down, and bam, we’d be fused together. Why did I hesitate? Because he’s the janitor? Who cared when it was a chance to release all this pent-up frustration with this hot-as-sin man offering it to me. It’s a hook-up, a one-time thing that will be forgotten tomorrow. Simple. Easy.

“You have it,” I said, willing my voice not to shake. “Take it.”