Professional Distance (Thorne and Dash 1)

Riley wanted to reach through the phone and shake him. “You’re giving me mixed signals.”

“It’s not my decision to make, so I see the benefits of both choices.”

“If I try and it doesn’t work, then…”

“You’ll be hurt. It will tear you apart, but you’ll have tried.”

Marc sounded almost wistful. He was clearly in a strange mood that evening. “So you think I should stay?”

“I think you should decide how much you want this.”

He’d known neither Marc nor Susan would tell him what to do, but he hated having to make this decision on his own. “Okay. I’ll think about it.”

“Do the weekend if you’re undecided. Make the cash. You must have nearly enough for school by now if you’ve been fucking Mr. Moneybags for over a month.”

“God, Marc, you make it sound so—”

Mark tsked. “Baby, you’re his rent boy. You can’t forget that.”

“You just told me to—”

“I told you to use your assets and work for what you want because you just might get it.”

Did Marc truly believe that? “You’ve never been an idealist, Marc.”

“No, but you are. It’s adorable and probably one of the things Thorne likes best about you.”

“How do you know he likes me?”

“You wouldn’t be having this conversation with me if you didn’t think he felt something more than lust for your hot-as-hell body.”

There were hints, Riley had to admit that. Like the way Thorne had touched him so reverently last Saturday morning. And the way he’d asked if he felt the connection between them. And he did, but he didn’t trust it. “This is crazy.”

“Sure it is, as crazy as moving all the way across the country with someone you’ve dated two weeks.”

“I miss you, you know.”

“I do know. Let me know what you decide.” He sounded sad, not like his usual animated self. Were things okay with him? He doubted Marc would tell him the truth if he asked.

“I will.” Riley ended the call. A few minutes later, he arrived home, glad, despite the expense, that he hadn’t found a new roommate. He wanted to be alone with his thoughts.

How much do I want this? Way too much. He’d never met anyone like Thorne, never felt a fraction of what he felt when he was with Thorne. He’d only known the man a month, a fucking month, and he was already this far gone. Walk away. That’s what he should do.

He imagined never seeing Thorne again, never feeling Thorne’s hands sliding up his back, never hearing Thorne beg when Riley was buried deep inside him, never kissing him again like they’d kissed last week—long and sweet and like they had all day. They would have all day if he spent the weekend.

He’d lied to Thorne. He didn’t actually have any other clients lined up. He’d intended to be on call for Sheila on Saturday night. But why do that when Thorne was a sure thing?

He’d promised Susan to help her on Saturday afternoon, but Thorne wouldn’t mind if he took a few hours to do that. He could even bake at Thorne’s place and then take the food to Susan if he needed to. Why was he even pretending he wasn’t going to stay?

He picked up his phone and twirled it in his hands for a few seconds, heart pounding. Should he call Thorne? He could do that, or he could turn spending the weekend together into a game, a game that could prove fun for both of them. Instead of calling, he typed out a text.

Still undecided but willing to negotiate. Be prepared to submit to my demands when I arrive.

Thorne replied: That’s hot as fuck.

Riley smiled and tossed his phone on the bed followed by his T-shirt. Time to shower and get ready for the night. He’d need to pack a bag, because there was almost no chance that Thorne wouldn’t do everything he asked.

CHAPTER TWELVE

“What do you want?” Thorne asked, his voice low and sexy, making Dash want to kiss him, but he held back, because he wanted something very particular.

“I want to do something to you that no one’s ever done before.” Dash craved that, to be Thorne’s first in some way. He didn’t dare ask Thorne to make their arrangement exclusive, and they were far from virgins, but he wanted something just for them.

Thorne toyed with the cuffs of his perfectly-tailored dress shirt, a sign that Dash had made him uneasy. Dash wanted Thorne relaxed, open, willing. He took one of Thorne’s hands in his and kissed the inside of his wrist, feeling the rapid pulse there. He traced a line across Thorne’s palm with the tip of his tongue. When Dash pulled Thorne’s index finger into his mouth and sucked, he looked up. Thorne’s eyes were wide, his pupils dilated. His tongue slid out, and he licked his lips. Dash used his teeth, sliding them along the digit. He had no doubt Thorne was now rock hard in his pants, but he kept going, licking and sucking until he had Thorne right where he wanted him.