Personal Entanglement (Thorne and Dash 2)

He straddled Riley’s shoulders and pushed his cock into Riley’s mouth. Riley pulled him closer, and took him all the way down. Thorne fucked his mouth, harder than he should have, but he could see in Riley’s eyes that he needed Thorne to take him without mercy.

Thorne’s climax was so intense he nearly blacked out. He pulled out of Riley’s mouth and let the last of his seed spray Riley’s face. Then he licked it off, laving him until every drop was gone.

When Thorne rolled to his side, Riley exhaled loudly. “Holy fuck that was so hot.”

“It was,” Thorne agreed.

“Come with me to the lake.”

Thorne shifted position so he could pull Riley to him. “Going on your own is the right thing. You know it is.”

Riley burrowed tight against him. “I do, but I’m scared.”

Thorne nodded. “I know, but it’s only for a few days.”

“This was supposed to be time for us to be together without work interfering.”

“I love you.” Thorne didn’t know what else to say.

“I love you too. I’m going to figure what I need, and then we’re going to talk about it, but leaving you is not an option.”

Thorne squeezed him even tighter. “I’ll be here when you’re ready.”

Thorne forced himself to get up then, to leave Riley there, in bed, with tears in his eyes. It was the hardest thing he’d ever done, but he hoped it was also one of the best.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Thorne couldn’t stop thinking of Riley. He picked up his phone to call him again and again, forcing himself to put it down each time. Even a punishing workout hadn’t helped take his mind off Riley’s absence. He’d lifted weights until his muscles screamed, and then he’d run six miles. But all he could think of when he got home was how Riley liked to fuck him when he was all sweaty from a run. He remembered the way Riley had looked at him the night before. The way his eyes had drifted down Thorne’s body like he wanted to devour him.

“What the fuck have I done?” he muttered to the empty apartment.

He snatched his phone off the counter where he’d left it so he wouldn’t call Riley while he was out. That was a good thing too. When he’d passed by Bavaria Haus, the thought of the Black Forest cake could easily have made him cave. No messages. He hadn’t expected one this soon, but that didn’t stop him from being disappointed.

He filled a glass with ice water from the door of the fridge and paced as he drank, unable to stay still despite trying to wear himself out. His keys taunted him from their hook by the door. He could just drive out to the lake. Riley wouldn’t send him away.

No. He wasn’t going to bother him until Riley was ready to talk.

Would he call? Thorne hoped so. They still had several days they could enjoy at the cabin.

Why had he pushed Riley to move in and to accept start-up money for the business? Why the fuck had he thought it was okay to buy him a building?

Thorne glanced at the paperwork that now lay on his desk. Should he withdraw his offer? No, not yet.

Should he keep making notes on a business plan for Riley, turn vague ideas into a full-blown presentation like he wanted too? Even if Riley never wanted to see it, it would give him something to focus on while he waited for Riley’s call.

He made himself a sandwich and settled at the table with his notes, his laptop, and some blank paper for sketching. He rarely showed clients his sketches, but it often helped him solidify a concept.

He also still liked to start his plans on paper, which had earned plenty of eye rolls from Riley. He titled the page “Bakery” since Susan and Riley were still struggling to figure out a name.

Thorne specialized in much larger corporations, but he contacted a few colleagues so he could bounce ideas off them until he had a handle on how things should work. Balancing catering and an eat-in storefront wasn’t easy, but Riley and Susan could do it, and he wanted to help them succeed.

By the time he started typing up his notes into something more coherent, the sun was going down, its slanted rays shining in through the dining-room windows, making his laptop screen nearly impossible to read.

As he wrote out the plan, he imagined Riley behind the counter of the storefront he and Susan wanted, the dining area redone in old-fashioned woodwork like a turn-of-the-century sweet shop. Customers would gawk at the pastries on display while Riley described them in his sexy voice. Once customers had a taste, they wouldn’t be able to resist.

They’d need to focus on high-quality products. Their bakery shouldn’t be showy, just simple, old-fashioned surroundings and passion for their food. Their love would shine through, and customers could tell when someone genuinely cared about what they sold.