Page 11 of Takeover-
There was that light-headedness again. How the hell were they supposed to work together? All Michael wanted to do was pull Sam out of the room, find somewhere private, and kiss the man. Or fuck. Or tan his ass. God, to feel that mouth again, taste his skin, hear him beg for more and more.
He wasn’t supposed to like the CEO. He certainly wasn’t supposed to lust after the man. And after dating—and hiding that he was dating—Rasheed, he wasn’t about to march down that path to disaster again.
Sam took several questions, but Michael didn’t hear them over the thumping of blood in his head. He studied the way Sam’s lips moved, how his fingers held the mic, the way the curve of his smile crinkled the lines near his eyes. Every time their gazes met, Michael felt the same burn of desire he had felt in Curaçao, to strip the suit off and master the man underneath.
Sam. His brand-new CEO.
* * *
Sam’s fingersshook as he toyed with his one remaining Copernican universe cuff link. He’d bought the pair the first time he’d made enough money to afford something utterly frivolous and expensive, and chosen the design to remind himself that he was not the center of the universe despite his status and success.
So many of his colleagues had succumbed to thinking that the world revolved around them, that they were there to lead the little people and whip them into doing what they should, never realizing that the so-called little people were the ones who inspired and innovated and motivated. Those CEOs acted as if every invention had sprung fully formed from their skulls.
Four Rivers Networks was a fine example of that. The board might have hired Sam, but he worked for the employees. These folks here had been royally screwed over by an incompetent and near-criminal CEO and had suffered under an egomaniacal VP of Engineering. Every one of them deserved better. It was a wonder they hadn’t all packed up and moved on to one of the larger high-tech companies in Pittsburgh or left town altogether like the Four Rivers founders had.
When he’d asked the engineers why they hadn’t jumped ship, they’d pointed toward the one person they loved working with and for, the man who’d kept those two idiots in check for the last three years, the person who motivated a small team of engineers to create a product that scared the pants off larger routing companies.
Mike Sebastian. Sam stared at his cuff link. Michael.
The same man who’d lovingly bound Sam’s hands with his own damn tie, spanked his ass, then fucked him until he couldn’t see straight.
Lead Test Engineer at Four Rivers Networks.
According to what Sam had learned from the board, Mike had been the first person the founders of Four Rivers had hired after they’d formed the company, and he’d remained on after those two had abandoned the company for greener pastures. The engineers, hell, even the marketing folks who worked directly with Michael praised his intelligence and tenacity.
The rational part of Sam’s mind—the business side—shrugged. It made sense. Michael had willpower and determination, but was also considerate and kind. His résumé was impressive—he’d been the VP of Engineering and Testing early on and several of the patent applications had his name on them. That he hadn’t left when the board had restructured him out of power spoke of a loyalty to the people at Four Rivers and to the engineering—something rarely seen in business today. In the same situation, Sam doubted he’d have stayed. It had been a crap move by the board, one to consolidate power with people they trusted.
Idiots. The troubles with Taylor and the failed release wouldn’t have happened if they’d left Michael as a VP, Sam was sure of that.
Obviously, the board didn’t trust Michael, probably because he had too much power in the early days. But everyone else did. That said quite a bit about Michael.
Had Sam been in a better state, he might have dug deeper into why there was such a discrepancy between the board and the guys in the trenches, but his emotions—well, he’d boxed those up tight and shipped them off to some foreign country the moment he’d spotted Michael. He could not afford to become a blathering idiot in front of a roomful of employees. He hadn’t. But it had been a near thing—much closer than he wanted to admit.
Why didMichaelhave to behere?
Ever since Curaçao, all of the daydreams he’d jacked off to in what passed for a home these days—they were all of Michael. They varied from simple lovemaking—Michael fucking him slowly in bed—to kinky—Michael in leather, whipping him on a rack. Those fantasies weresafe. He could indulge in his desires without anyone ever knowing he liked being bent over and claimed.
Michael had done exactly that. Hell, Sam had begged for Michael. Moaned for the man. Tasted his cock.
Sam set down the cuff link, fingers shaking far more than he liked. His body ached and had from the instant he’d seen Michael’s shocked face in the crowd. In all his reunion fantasies, he’d imagined Michael’s cool exterior slipping away. None of those equaled the impact of seeing it for real. Michael still wanted him.
If only they had met again for any other reason thanthis.
Michael knew Sam was gay—in a carnal and visceral way that both frightened Sam and hardened his cock. Coworker. A direct report. An employee. Thelastperson in the world Sam could take to bed. Or beg to be taken to bed.
Not that Sam would take that chance, not with William hanging around. If only he’d go back to California—but no. He’d taken an interest, damn it. These early days were critical—either the employees would trust Sam, or he’d have to raise the asshole-CEO level a notch. He’d rather not do that, but it would take focus and careful maneuvering. The right words paired with the right actions.
He’d never been so unfocused and wrecked on his first day as he was now.
Worse, he had an inkling of why Michael had been so eager to fuck him that night. The desire to control, yes, lots of men had those needs, but how much had been about the desire to screw the boss, at least figuratively? There was no way Michael could have known who Sam was. No last names. No titles. One night.
At least Michael wouldn’t be running to the board to scream “gay.” Not that they would do anything but fire him. Not even William would stalk a man down a dark alley—the man was all bluster. Sam’s secret was safe for the time being.
He exhaled. God, what a mess.
His computer dinged almost at the same time a knock sounded on his door. The rapping stole his breath and increased the beating of his heart.
Punctual. Of course he would be. Sam took three calming breaths that did nothing and spoke. “Come in.”
