“Stay. Watch TV or whatever while I work and then…”

“And then?” Dash asked, wanting to hear him say it.

“And then I’m going to fuck you.”

Dash shivered. “That’s exactly what I hoped you were going to say.”

“I know I’ll need to pay for the day. I’m good with that.”

“Sheila will bill you. I’ll send her a message.”

“Okay. I’ve got about five hundred channels if you want to chill by the TV or—”

“TV sounds good. I should rest up for later.”

“Yes, you should.”

THORNE GLANCED UP from his laptop every few minutes. He couldn’t stop watching Dash. How did he manage to look so damn hot lying on the couch watching television?

A flaw in the open floorplan of Thorne’s apartment—which wasn’t usually a problem since he rarely had anyone there—was that he couldn’t avoid Dash unless he went into the bedroom and shut the rarely-used door. But he didn’t have that kind of self-discipline. How could he deny himself the view? Dash was wearing a truly tiny pair of shorts and a white T-shirt that clung to his shoulders and pecs. He appeared utterly relaxed as if he’d become one with the couch.

“You need to relax.”

Dash’s words echoed in his head. He wasn’t sure he was capable of just lying around like Dash could, except right after Dash fucked the hell out of him.

He’s good for you. That obnoxious voice inside again, the one that fought the rigid schedule Thorne usually enforced on himself.

He’s dangerous for me. He makes me want things.

Are those things so bad?

Maybe not. But Dash was twenty-two. No matter how much he enjoyed the sex, he wasn’t likely to be interested in a relationship with a man as old as Thorne. He’s doing a job. One he’s good at. Thorne was arrogant enough to believe Dash truly enjoyed their time together, but it couldn’t be anything more than erotic enjoyment.

He forced himself to focus on work long enough to get his report sent off by eleven forty-five. As soon as he received a reply confirming that the team leader of the project had all the information he needed, Thorne closed his laptop and stood. As he stretched, he watched a few seconds of Dash’s movie. Based on the hairstyles and clothing, Thorne guessed it was from the eighties. “What are you watching?”

“You’re kidding, right?” Dash looked over the back of the couch at him like he was nuts.

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve never seen this?”

Thorne studied the movie for several more seconds. “Oh, it’s that John Cusack one.”