Page 17 of Takeover-
Fucking hell. Michael’s blood might as well have been on fire. They could not remain like this, stretched and fraying like old thread. One of them was going to break, and then where would the company be? Sam, at least, needed a level head if they were to make it through to acquisition. They could always find another person to head up test. Maybe this time, he’d be the one to run away.
Or stay and pick up the pieces again.
Regardless, if they were doomed to fall—and it sure as hell looked like it—he might as well make it a controlled descent. Especially since focusing Sam, beating and fucking away the stress in his trembling body in Curaçao, had gotten Michael off like nothing else. And now he knew what Sam needed. Could be more creative.
Michael’s heart lodged itself in his throat. “Follow me.” He turned and resumed his walk. He didn’t stop when he reached the convention center, but turned up the tunnel walkway that wound through a water feature and away from the river. Sam still hadn’t caught up. He might not. That would be for the best for the both of them, in all honesty.
Intellectually, he hoped Sam had made the correct choice. Shredding the rules, their professionalism was fraught with danger. Better to leave each other alone.
Joy ripped through Michael when Sam appeared at his side at the corner of Penn and Tenth. Relief, too—and that told Michael something he didn’t want to hear, so he pushed it aside. Sam said nothing and his sunglasses hid his eyes again, but his hands were relaxed and a faint smile graced his lips.
Even when Michael entered the office building and headed to the gym, Sam did not speak. In the empty locker room, a silence full of tension and anticipation pulled a different kind of cord between them.
“Here?” Sam murmured the word. He stopped near a locker but didn’t reach for the lock.
Michael unlocked his locker, fished a towel out of his gym bag, threw it over the bench, and peeled his damp t-shirt from his body. “The sound of the showers hides a multitude of sins.”
Sam made a noise that was halfway between a grunt and an inhale. “Jesus. You’re serious.”
Michael kicked off his shoes, removed his socks, then slipped free of his shorts and underwear. He let Sam drink in the view of his erection before wrapping a towel around his hips. “You have a choice. Either get naked and into a shower, or tell me you’ve changed your mind and never bring this up again.”
Sam folded his sunglasses and set them down on the bench.
Michael held Sam’s gaze. Last chance. Either push this over the edge or walk away.
They stood on the precipice until Sam kicked his shoes off. His socks followed, and then his shirt. Michael exhaled a breath he hadn’t even known he’d been holding.
Sam hooked his fingers around the waistband of his shorts and underwear and pushed them down in a long, slow motion that exposed the smooth skin of his hips and the ever-widening trail of hair to his dick. It took forever for the cloth to travel over the bulge of Sam’s erection and fall to the floor.
The little tease. “You do realize a coworker could walk in here, don’t you?” Michael said.
A wide and wicked smile answered that question. “Isn’t that half the fun?” He turned away and headed—without a towel—toward the showers.
An exhibitionist? Michael slipped his hand between the edges of the towel around his hips and ran his thumb over the head of his cock before stroking it a few times. Oh, the possibilities there. Except Sam—
Sam should have been off-limits. Michael closed his eyes and let the warmth of his arousal and the tug of his hand on his cock wash over him, tighten his skin, and strengthen his resolve. What the hell was he doing? He wasn’t this reckless. In the past he’d wanted to be, would have loved to slip in a kiss with Rasheed while at work, but that never happened. This—was a bit much, even for him.
Then again, Michael had never wanted any man more than he wanted Sam. Every part of Michael’s body cried out to give Sam what he wanted—and to claim his Sam again.
The gym bag—his work gym bag—lacked condoms and lube. Because you didn’t fuck your CEO while at the office. Every inch of his skin tingled as he pulled his belt out of the locker and the bottle of body wash from his bag. Sam enjoyed a bit of pain, and there were other options for pleasure.
Running water echoed in the locker room, creating a blanket of sound over the utter silence of the space. Would it be enough if someone walked in? With any luck, they wouldn’t need to find out.
Michael followed the noise to the farthest shower in the bank and pushed aside the curtain, rattling the rings on the bar. Under a stream of water, surrounded by steam, Sam stood, leisurely tugging at his dick. His eyes were closed but he had a shit-eating grin on his face. Of course he did. He’d won, the master manipulator that he was.
Michael flicked the nonbuckle end of his belt against Sam’s thigh with enough force to get his attention.
Sam flinched backward and gasped, his expression a beautiful mix of shock, pain, and lust. He wasn’t masturbating anymore. Instead, his hands were pressed against the tile of the wall he leaned back against.
A red mark rose on Sam’s thigh. Lovely. “If you want to jack off, you can do that on your own time.” Michael stepped into the stall and pulled the curtain closed before unwrapping his towel from his waist. He threw that over the curtain rod.
“Sorry.” The focus of Sam’s attention slipped down Michael’s body, then back up. “Can I suck your dick?” Sam was barely audible underneath the rush of water against tile. “As an apology?” The grin returned.
Like hell Sam would dictate any of this. “No.” Michael set down the body wash and looped the belt over his shoulder then crossed to Sam. The scalding water stung Michael’s skin as he entered the stream, but he ignored the shock, grasped Sam’s arms, and crushed his lips against Sam’s.
Sam groaned and opened to Michael, his chest grinding against Michael’s. With his tongue, Michael thrust inside, claiming Sam’s mouth for his own, roughly exploring every part. He slid his hands down to Sam’s waist and pulled their bodies tight until thighs and cocks pressed together.
Sam shuddered against Michael, all sinew and stress, and kissed back as if they were at war.
