Page 27 of Waves of Fury

“Not for Gerry,” I tease, greedily inhaling Tyler’s hair that brushes over my nose. He smells like lingering shampoo and salt water. I like the scent a lot. “Gerry could sleep anywhere. I’ve caught him napping at his desk many times.”

Tyler softly chuckles. “So even big corporate zombies have slackers in their group too?”

“Corporate zombies?”

“Yeah, you know the type. Mindlessly going to their tower in the sky, working their nine to fives over and over again until they die.”

“Hmph,” I grunt out. “My job is a little more entertaining than that.”

“Not Gerry’s, though.”

We both snicker. I don’t pull my hand from Tyler’s. In the darkness, I can cling to him, pretending for just a moment everything is normal and it’s not the end of the goddamn world.

“What are we going to do, Kellen?” Tyler asks with a defeated sigh. “We’re trapped with nowhere to go.”

“Help will come,” I assure him. “It will.”

I don’t know how or from whom, but it has to.

“Yeah,” he mutters. “Maybe.” His other hand blindly fumbles over my chest, sending a thrill straight to my dick. “How’s your wound?”

“It hurts,” I admit through clenched teeth as he roves his fingers over me. “Not much can be done about it, though.”

He locates my injury and then slides his hand beneath my shirt to check the bandage. Lightly, he presses his fingers to it. “I don’t think it’s bled through. That’s something.”

“Could’ve been worse,” I say with a shudder. “I could have got sucked deeper into the stairwell and drowned.”

“I would have saved you.” His hand remains on my stomach under my shirt. My heart hammers wildly in my chest. Of all the times to decide I’m interested in a guy, now is definitely the most inopportune.

“It’s kind of our thing,” I joke, unable to keep from grinning. “You saving me over and over.”

Kind of our thing? Close your mouth, dumbass. You sound like an idiot.

What if my employees are awake? None of them even know I’m gay, much less stupidly crushing over the food delivery guy who, hours ago, I was massively bitching about. I’m an embarrassment, just like Dad always thought.

Tyler doesn’t make me feel like a loser, though, because he laughs, brushing his teasing fingers over my abs before removing his hand. “And to think, you almost sent me away. I’m growing on you.”

That he is.

If we ever get out of here, I’d jump at the opportunity to take him to dinner to show him my thanks. I can think of a lot else I could do after.

“Good thing you’re hot,” Tyler continues, voice low and near my cheek. “It makes you easier to put up with.”

He thinks I’m hot?

Are we flirting?

Heat surges through my chilled body, warming me from my chest to the end of each of my limbs. The last time someone told me I was hot was back in high school. I’d met some guy at the mall who let me practice my new blowjob skills on him in a dressing room. Since then, I’ve been told I’m successful and sugar daddy material, but never hot.

“My ego needed that,” I whisper. “Thanks.”

“You’re not going to kick my ass for flirting with you?”

So weareflirting. Good to know.

“I can assure you, Tyler, kicking your ass is the last thing I want to do to you.” I nuzzle my nose against his hair again, wishing we were far from all this shit, alone in a hotel room.

He starts to say something, but then someone clears their throat. All lust and desire to chase after a man like Tyler are squelched.

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