Page 70 of Takeover
Sam reached up and pulled Michael’s head down for a kiss. Not a burning or hard one—a taste of lips and tongue that was too short. “You have more tricks in that bag of yours?”
That didn’t help the state of Michael’s cock at all. “Just you wait and see.” He had more than enough toys to keep Sam just like he enjoyed him—breathless and shaking.
“Promise?”
“Yes.” For as long as Sam wanted and needed. “You sure about lunch?”
It was Sam’s stomach that responded, growling loudly. “Sorry,” Sam said. “I guess crises make me hungry.”
“I meant going out with me. In public. Together.”
Sam hesitated, but his smile didn’t falter—just softened. As did his voice. “I’ve wanted to bemefor so long. I should have told my colleagues to go fuck themselves years ago. Yes, I’m sure.”
Michael took Sam’s hand and pulled him toward the door. “Then let’s go.”
“I bet the concierge can recommend a place with authentic Cajun cuisine,” Sam said. “And maybe something French for dinner.”
He’d like that, except there were other considerations. “I’m still here to work, Sam. I should probably network. Go to dinner with Sundra folks.” They headed back toward the elevator.
Sam shrugged. “Invite them. Greta, too. I’d rather that than some lame strip joint.” He paused. “But lunch is for us.” He pressed the down button.
After dinner? That would be for them, as well.
The elevator doors opened, and Michael followed Sam. Career, promotion, and Sam. He had it all, but the most important was Sam. “I’m glad you said yes.”
Sam furrowed his brows for a moment. “To the brandy in Curaçao?”
Michael nodded.
“Best decision I ever made in my life.”
Michael fiddled with the solitary cuff link at his wrist. “Should I give this back to you? I don’t need a remembrance when I have the real thing.”
“No. It’s yours.” Sam paused. “Just like me.”
Sam was his. A lover. A boyfriend. Perhaps more in the future. Only time would tell.
The doors opened, and the hotel lobby lay before them. They stepped out of the elevator together.
