“Lisa thinks you work too much.”
Brett looked up from his screen of neatly aligned numbers to see Leo lean against the doorjamb. Barefoot, bare-chested, his hair tousled and the top two buttons of his jeans undone, he made a very appealing sight; as appealing as the sight Lisa had offered Brett, less than an hour earlier, clad in nothing more than a silky red nightgown that only fell halfway down her thighs.
“I know she does,” Brett sighed. Tearing his gaze away from Leo was painful – but necessary. “She said so when she came down. But if you guys keep interrupting, I’m not going to finish any faster.”
He added three numbers to the form before realizing that Leo hadn’t answered. He looked up again and found himself pinned by eyes glowing with amber flames.
“We interrupt?” Leo said mildly. “She brought you lunch, I bring you dessert, and you call that interrupting?”
Brett’s mouth opened, then closed again without a sound. Having pushed away from the door, Leo was now stalking toward the desk, each movement filled with the fluid grace that betrayed he was a predator first and foremost; the same grace always caused Brett’s heart to stammer, his cock to harden, and his neck to itch where Leo’s bite, that first night, had left an often-reopened scar.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” Brett said, and the words came out like a croak.
Snorting, Leo walked around the desk, pushed Brett’s laptop aside, and climbed on. Only then did he reveal the bowl he had been hiding behind him so far. He scooped up a generous portion of the white chocolate mousse they had brought back from their favorite restaurant and led it to his mouth. The sounds that rose from his throat when he swallowed were practically obscene, and Brett’s cock leapt in the confines of his pants.
“Go ahead, then,” Leo said as he took another spoonful. “Explain how you meant it.”
Brett watched those sensuous lips close over the treat, watched Leo’s eyelids flutter half-closed in barely exaggerated delight, watched his throat move up and down, and groaned.
“Not fair,” was all he could say.
Leo’s laugh was pure sin. “What’s not fair? That I’m eating your dessert? I didn’t say I wouldn’t share, did i?”
He picked up another spoonful of mousse and brought it to Brett’s lips.
Brett obediently opened his mouth, but he barely tasted the mousse at all, not when all he wanted was to taste Leo’s skin.
“I already had dessert with Lisa,” he heard himself say, at the same time as his hands rose of their own accord toward the fastenings of Leo’s pants.
Leo grinned. “Doesn’t mean you can’t have a second helping, now, does it?”
His lips tasted like white chocolate when he leaned down to kiss Brett. Other parts of him, a few moments later, were not quite as sweet – but they were still just as delicious.
Brett’s tax forms would have to wait.