Page 116 of Under Construction

Chris materializes beside him, fingers finding Dennis’s littlest finger between their bodies where no one can see. He tugs gently. "Have to go, princess."

Dennis turns fully toward him, fighting down a pout that wouldn't be appropriate here. "Really? We haven't even gotten to the good champagne."

Chris's eyes drift to Dennis’s lips, his smile softening into something tender. "Materials called. Ryan needs diamond polishing discs for the terrazzo finish. If we don't get them today, we lose our weekend grinding window."

Dennis sighs. They were so close to escaping together. "Fine."

"Call me when you're done. I'll come get you." Chris's voice drops to barely a whisper. "Maybe bring one of those bottles with you." He winks, and Dennis has to bite back a giggle.

When Chris turns, he walks straight into Mr. Lancaster. They end up nose to nose, shoulders knocking hard.

"My apologies," Chris says. The words could chip ice.

"No harm done at all!" Mr. Lancaster responds smoothly.

They lock eyes, and Dennis’s skin prickles with warning. He'd recognize that tension anywhere—from their early days as enemies, through every site confrontation, to now when theyspend every moment together. His attunement to Chris's moods has only sharpened with time. Right now, every instinct screams that Chris might actually tear Mr. Lancaster’s expensive suit off him, piece by piece.

Dennis steps between them.

"Mr. Lancaster, allow me to introduce Chris, our site manager." His hand finds Chris's elbow.

"A pleasure to meet you, Chris...?" Mr. Lancaster tilts forward slightly, waiting for a last name.

"Just Chris," he bites out through clenched teeth.

"Ah! Well, delighted to meet you, Just Chris." Mr. Lancaster's tone stays pleasant, either missing or choosing to ignore the hostility.

"Likewise." Chris's voice could frost champagne. "If you'll excuse me."

He gives Dennis a tiny nod before striding away, his usual easy movement replaced by something coiled and lethal. His hands clench at his sides, knuckles bone-white against his flawlessly tailored pants.

Dennis watches him go, his thoughts scattered. In all their months together, he's never seen Chris so... cold.

That was certainly... odd.

"I apologize, Mr. Lancaster. I'm not sure what that was about." Dennis can't quite keep the confusion from his voice.

"Please, think nothing of it, Mr. Kim." His smile remains perfectly cordial. "I'm sure he had his reasons."

33Runaway

After the party's over, Chris picks Dennis up from the convention center. He's already arranged everything for the weekend crew, and Jason has officially email-kicked Dennis out of his own office with a "Go home before your zombie face harshes everyone's buzz, you cranky bitch."

They drive straight to Chris's apartment. Chris hasn't mentioned his earlier behavior, and Dennis’s temple throbs too much to ask.

When Chris notices his pinched expression, he reaches over to squeeze Dennis’s hand.

The gesture wipes away thoughts of that weird moment with Mr. Lancaster—probably just another asshole from Chris's past. God knows that’s howtheystarted, too. As long as Chris keeps his dick to himself—well, to Dennis—Dennis couldn't care less about ancient history.

Speaking of dicks, Dennis is about to combust. Chris is sitting there in his perfectly tailored tux like some kind of edible fantasy, and Dennis needs to unwrap him before his head actually explodes.

They barely make it up the stairs, Dennis’s social battery drained to zero. He keeps grabbing Chris by the lapels anddragging him into sloppy kisses on the stairs, against the landings, all along the stairwell.

Dennis doesn’t give a fuck who might walk past and see, not with the way Chris’s urgency seems to ripple through every touch, every press of their mouths together.

By the time they reach the door, Chris is fumbling with his keys, his movements clumsy as Dennis drapes himself over Chris’s back like a cat in heat, his lips mouthing Chris’s neck, teeth grazing with sharp little snips.

"You're not helping," Chris mutters, the key slipping from his grip as Dennis rocks his hips against him.

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