Page 6 of Burn It Down

Except I’m not relaxed around Dylan. I’m wound tighter than ever when I’m in his space.

Hiding my sexual preferences has been the norm ever since I discovered I was attracted to guys in the eighth grade. HenryRosenburg kissed me after fencing practice one day and stars exploded behind my eyelids. It wasn’t like I had a lot of experience kissingeithergender at that age, but a year later, when Sarah Eli kissed me, I felt nothing. No excitement, no tingles, no desire to do it again. Her lips were too yielding and although she initiated the move, it was like she was waiting for me to take control and I didn’t like the pressure. I exerted enough control in my life back then between classes, clubs, and sports that I definitely didn’t want to have to callthoseas well. To this day, I still prefer to be a follower in the bedroom, happy to hand control to someone else.

After the encounter with Sarah, I went back to Henry to see if I still felt something or if I was broken altogether, but those damned sparks returned as soon as Henry’s firm mouth connected with mine for the second time. My hands flew to his chest and I loved the hard muscle I found there.

I let it slip one night at the dinner table that Henry had become my boyfriend. My father let me know quickly, and furiously, that being homosexual was not a route I would take in life if I had any hope of remaining the heir to his multi-billion-dollar company. And like usual, instead of helping me, my mother pretended the argument wasn’t happening. As long as her champagne flute was full, she tried to blend in with the walls…still does. It’s actually quite disgusting how cliché and unoriginal my parents are.

Exiting the elevator, I shake my current thoughts away and flash my badge at the electronic key reader, gaining access to my office as if it were a hotel suite. My grandfather purchased this building sixty years ago and it was probably the best investment he or my father ever made. My current position ashead of investmentsallows me a top-floor office with three walls of windows that overlook the growing, bustling city below.

Standing at the southern-facing window, I squint as if I can see Dylan’s shop from here.

I wonder what he’s doing.

Steam from my coffee cup carries the bitter smell of the dark liquid to my nose and I realize Dylan’s probably working. Which is what I need to be doing. Moving to my desk, I fire up my computer and revel in the familiar sounds: the hum of my mini-fridge, the air blowing through the vents, the floor-to-ceiling blinds rolling down, giving me the privacy I crave. Even this high up, I like to shut the world out so I can focus.

However, regardless of my attempts to stay on track, my mind insists on wandering to Dylan. I wonder how he’d feel if he knew he was occupying my thoughts like this?

Who am I kidding? He’d probably be creeped out as hell and maybe even a little pissed.

The thought sours in my gut because unfortunately, I still need to go get my wallet.

Having a limitless credit card floating around isn’t a great move, but I have a full morning. I also need to figure out how to not be creepy as hell before I interact with him again. Although, truthfully, there isn’t any amount of time that’s going to help me with that.

Finally, after two meetings I was beginning to think would never end, I head for the parking deck, strengthening my resolve to let this rapid and unchecked obsession go.

Because it’s raining, I’m driving the Range Rover today. A humorless laugh escapes my throat at the thought that I chose my car based on the weather. Still perseverating on that fact, I’m a little self-conscious as I pull into the lot of Ryder Automotive thirty-five minutes later, remembering Dylan’s comment from the day I dropped it off.Spoken like someone who has an extra hundred grand to lose.

Touché, sir.

Thankfully, there’s an empty parking space right in front of the office because the downpour has just become torrential. Having no umbrella, I jump out of the car as fast as I can and run inside. Drenched after only ten feet and three seconds in the rain, I look like a wet dog.

A gorgeous woman with long black hair is behind the counter. When her eyes meet mine, I automatically know she’s related to the man who’s been occupying my thoughts all morning.

“Wow. You look just like Dylan.”

She laughs. “I’m three minutes older. So, technically,helooks just likeme.”

Twins.

“Oh, um, right.”Real smooth, Jacob. Way to not be creepy this time.

She smiles politely and changes the subject. “Is there something I can help you with? You dropped the Maserati off yesterday, right? I’m afraid it won’t be ready for a while,” she says, playing with the ends of her hair. Not in a clueless-while-chewing-gum way, but more like she’s trying to keep her hands busy way.

“Of course. I just realized this morning that I left my wallet in the glovebox.”

“Let me check and see if Dyl has it in the bay already. If it’s up, he’ll have to grab it for you. I’ll be right back.”

She returns a moment later with Dylan in tow. He’s wiping his hands on a shop towel, his hat is backwards again, and he’s wearing a black tank top and what look like gray Dickies. The way I amnotprepared to see him punches me square in the face. His pecs are barely contained in his tank top and more of his tattoos are exposed on his arms and shoulder. My salivary glands are letting me know they’re here for the look…and they aren’t the only ones.

“Hey, Jake. Come on back,” he says in a voice deeper than mine.

Following behind him, I pass through the door into the active car bay. One car is in a lift, two others, including my Maserati, are just parked on the floor in the open space. Dylan stands aside, holding a hand out toward my car. “Grab what you need.”

“Thanks.” The word comes out breathless as I fight the urge to run my tongue up his chest, followed by my hands before they get tangled in his…Christ, man, just grab your fucking wallet already.

Reaching into the car, I hear the music playing through the shop. I’m familiar with the song, but Ineveruse my brother’s connection for my own gain. It’s bad enough my father’s connections have already paved every inch of the road that is my life.

But it’s extremely tempting.

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