“My clients don’t care what day of the week it is.” He tapped his laptop. “I need to finish this report.”

“What you need is to relax.”

That was why he scheduled time for sex every Friday. “What the fuck do you think I just did?”

“You came spectacularly, but you’re already tense again. Sex is one way to relieve tension, but it’s clearly not enough for you.”

Where did Dash get the goddamn nerve to lecture him? And why hadn’t Thorne kicked him out? “I don’t do post-sex cuddling if that’s what you’re thinking.”

Dash grinned. “I would never accuse you of such a thing.”

What the fuck did that mean?

“So what do you do for fun?” Dash asked, ignoring Thorne’s wish for him to leave. “Watch TV?” He gestured toward the enormous flat-screen on the wall in front of the couch.

“No.” Thorne didn’t have time to lie around like that.

“Do you read?”

“Reports for work. Rarely anything else.”

Dash sighed and shook his head. “Junk food? Surely you at least eat cake, doughnuts, candy, something?”

Thorne hesitated. Cake used to be a major weakness. Then he hit forty and had to work extra hard to maintain his weight.

Dash grinned. “Ah. Now I got you pegged. You’d love to binge on chocolate cake, wouldn’t you? One with a dark ganache on top, maybe a rich cherry filling inside.”

Fuck. Cake had never sounded so hot as it did when Dash talked about it. “Okay, you discovered my secret. I have a sweet tooth. But this report still has to get written.”

Dash crossed the room and came to stand right by Thorne, still buck naked, of course.

“Surely, the report can wait a little while. Let’s have some cake together.”

Thorne reached out and skimmed his knuckles over Dash’s sleek abs. “Is that a euphemism?”

Dash winked. “It could be, but I think we should have the real thing first.”

“Are you always like this?”

“Like what?”

Thorne couldn’t find the right word to describe what he meant, and that was unsettling because he was rarely at a loss for words. He couldn’t afford to be with his clients. “You walk in and just take over. And you’re so fucking…happy.”

Dash laughed. “I try to see the good in everything.”

“How old are you?” Did Thorne really want to know?

“Twenty-two.”

Fuck.

“Ah, the optimism of youth.”

“You’re hardly an old geezer, you know.”

Thorne sighed. “I’m forty-two, but sometimes I feel a hundred.”

Dash leaned down and nibbled Thorne’s neck. Then he ran his tongue around the outer edge of his ear, making Thorne shudder. “You fuck like you’re twenty,” Dash whispered.