Page 54 of The Boss

My jaw tightened. “Chris Landry. He’s got a bright future in the industry.”

“He’s got more than that, all right.” Kurt emptied his glass in one sip, eyes glinting. “Oh, come on, Steele. The boy is quite the looker. You’d have to be blind not to notice that firm, perky ass. And I’ve seen the way you act around him, how you can’t keep your hands off him.”

Something in my chest coiled tight. “What are you implying, Spencer?”

“I’m just saying, you’re lucky to have him.”

“He’s good at his job.”

“I bet he is.” Kurt chuckled. “So, you’re telling me he’s nothing more than a PA?”

It felt wrong to say it. To strip Chris down to just that when he was already so much more. But I wasn’t about to share the truth with the likes of Kurt Spencer. “That’s right.”

He smirked. “Well, then you won’t mind if I make a move, will you?”

The world snapped into a razor-sharp focus. I scarcely registered setting my drink down. One second, I was standing there, pretending to tolerate his presence, and the next, I had him shoved up against the wall beside the bar, my forearm pressing hard against his chest. The impact rattled the glasses behind the bar.

Kurt’s smirk vanished, his expression contorting into shock. “What the hell, Steele—”

“You stay away from him.” The words came out low, lethal. A promise of violence.

He lifted his hands in mock surrender, but the flicker of fear in his pale eyes shifted to something vicious. “Bit possessive, aren’t we? Thought he was just your PA.”

My grip on his collar tightened. “If you so much as look at him the wrong way,” I said, my voice little more than a growl, dark and venomous, “I will make sure you regret it.”

Kurt wasn’t small, but I dwarfed him. We were hidden by a column next to the bar, obscured from view, but all it would take was one wrong move from him—one more word—and I’d have him flat on his back, breathless, regretting every syllable. And he fucking knew it. I could see it in the way he swallowed, the way his throat bobbed under my fingers.

“All right, calm down. Message received,” he said with a shaky breath.

I released him with a sharp shove, barely resisting the urge to throw a punch.

He straightened his rumpled shirt, exhaling like he’d just walked away from a loaded gun. His smirk returned, but it was edged with something warier now. “Say hi to Chantelle for me,” he said smoothly, and then he was gone, vanishing back into the crowd.

I exhaled, rolling my shoulders, willing the fury to drain from my limbs. Around me, the murmur of the conference continuedas if nothing had happened, oblivious to the storm of violence barely contained in my fists. That’s when I noticed Chris walking up to me.

He frowned, glancing between me and the direction Kurt had gone. “What was that about?”

I shook my head. “Nothing. Just an old rivalry.”

He didn’t look convinced, but I wasn’t offering more than that. Instead, I reached out instinctively, resting my hand against the back of his neck, my fingers brushing the warm skin beneath his collar. Grounding myself. Claiming.

Mine.

Chris stilled, his lips parting slightly, his eyes flicking up to mine. He didn’t pull away. He didn’t say anything, either. Simply let me guide him back toward the ballroom. Back to the world where none of this—my jealousy, my possessiveness, my inability to let him go—was supposed to exist.

* * *

By the time we made it back to my room, I could hardly keep myself from humping him. The door had barely shut before I had him against it, my mouth crashing down on his, all the tension, the jealousy, the unchecked hunger of the entire day boiling over. His hands were in my hair, gripping tight, his body arching into mine like he needed this just as badly.

“Bed,” I growled against his lips, but he was already pushing at my suit jacket, yanking my shirt loose.

We stumbled backward, stripping as we went, leaving a careless trail of clothing behind us. By the time we reached the bed, I had him naked, flushed, and hard, his lips swollen from my kisses, his pupils blown wide with need.

I didn’t waste time. I pushed him onto the mattress, rolled him onto his stomach, and gripped his ass, spreading his cheeks open. His skin was hot beneath my hands, his muscles flexingas he exhaled, already anticipating what was coming. I reached for the lube, drizzling it down his crack, watching as it glistened over his clenching hole. Another slick stroke over my cock, and I was ready—aching to be inside him, to feel him raw again, just like last night. I lined myself up and thrust in, a single, long, unrelenting stroke.

Chris gasped, his ass arching, fingers clawing at the sheets. “Zac—fuck!”

I was already moving, driven by the memory of how he’d looked all morning—so put together, so fucking professional while I sat there, barely restraining the urge to drag him away and maul him. Now, I could. And I did.

---