Just Business

by Anna Zabo

  He was close. Panting. Thank God the fan rattled so loud. He grunted and worked his cock faster.

  Warm lips pressed against the back of his neck. Hot breath against skin. “Come.”

  Justin moaned as semen coated his hand and hit the back of the urinal.

  Fuck. Fuck. Every nerve felt like fire. Did he really just jack off in a men’s room thinking about Eli? The evidence was right there, white and sticky on his hand. Shit.

  Worse. That had been hotter than anything he’d imagined in a while.

  Jesus. I am desperate. He flushed away the evidence, cleaned himself up, and changed back into jeans and a t-shirt. Black with a stylized raven on it. All his other classmates wore suits or business casual to class. He couldn’t abide by the dress that reminded him how he’d fucked that life away with Francis.

  He stuffed his dress clothes into his backpack. He’d outshone everyone. His grades were fantastic. Don praised his work. He could rise above it. Again. This time, he’d help Mercy, too.

  Justin opened the door and flicked off the light. The smoky, acrid smell of coffee swam down Justin’s lungs as he stepped out into the shop. He grabbed a table near the counter and stuffed his backpack onto the seat.

  A few customers sat at the tables, but none were distracting Brian. “So how did it go?”

  “Good, I think.” Justin stepped behind the counter and started making a cappuccino. The adrenaline would wear off, and he still had an evening of classes ahead. “Pretty sure Sam liked me. Engineering did, too. But . . .”

  “But?”

  “I don’t think I impressed the CFO.”

  “Is that the tall guy with the cane?”

  “Yeah. Eli.” He scratched the back of his head. “I kind of yelled at him.”

  “Dude—”

  The bell on the shop door rang—and speak of the devil. Cane, gloves, but no jacket. Just his shirt and vest, which did nothing to hide the long lines of Eli’s body and everything to stir up Justin’s blood again. He held a large envelope. Probably outgoing mail.

  “Shit,” Justin muttered. He set about frothing his milk. Really needed to find a fuckbuddy. By the time Justin finished making his drink, Eli was at the counter.

  “I thought you had the day off.”

  “I do.” Justin picked up his drink. “I’m kind enough not to make my boss work for me.” He nodded at Brian. “But he’ll happily take your order.” Looking away was hard, but if he stared at Eli’s canted lips, he’d need another trip to the men’s room. He slid into his chair.

  Eli remained at the counter and ordered, but when he got his drink he tucked his mail under his arm and headed straight to Justin’s table. Despite not wanting Eli to sit, Justin moved his backpack. Eli placed his cup down—a latte?

  Jesus. Eli never ordered one of those. “Isn’t that a little risqué for you?” The quip slipped out before he could shut his brain off.

  Eli’s chuckle took Justin’s breath from his lungs. “I like to live life on the edge.”

  “If that’s your edge . . .” This time, Justin clamped down on the rest of his words.

  Eli merely smiled and handed him the large white envelope he’d been carrying.

  What the fuck? Justin took it. Opened it. Slid out the papers— Holy shit.

  It was an offer letter. Thirty minutes hadn’t even passed.

  A quiet laugh from across the table made Justin look up. Eli’s smile lit up his whole face. “Well, that certainly was worth the hand delivery.” He sipped his latte.

  Justin’s hands shook. Hell, his whole body vibrated. “How—I mean—”

  “There are only six of us, Justin. Doesn’t take that long to make a decision.”

  Justin pulled the letter out, got to the salary, and his mouth dried up. The offer was for far more than an assistant should receive. By several tens of thousands. That would solve—a whole host of problems. Bills. Debt. Mercy’s needs. Maybe allow him some cash to send to his folks.

  “I do hope you’re worth every penny.”

  His own words, thrown back. “Don’t you worry about that.” Justin shoved the letter into the envelope. “When are you expecting an answer?”

  “I know your answer.” Eli leaned back and crossed one leg over the other. “We’d like the signed paperwork within a week.”

  “That’s presumptuous.”

  “Is it?” Eli stripped off his gloves, the leather stretching to reveal the flesh beneath.

  Justin didn’t answer Eli. He wanted the job. They were handing him more money than such a position should pay. He placed the envelope on the table, wrapped both hands around his cup, and sipped, the sharp taste of the coffee clearing his mind and wetting his mouth. “Why me?”

  The gloves hit the table. “Sam likes you. Engineering likes you.”

  “But you don’t.”

  Eli ran a finger around the rim of his mug. “Assumptions, Mr. White.”

  Those words sank straight into his bones and tightened his balls. What would those fingers feel like on his lips, in his mouth? Stop it. “You didn’t seem impressed.”

  “You have potential. Untamed talent.” Eli picked up his cup. “I’m interested in seeing that harnessed.” There might have been a grin around that last word, but any expression vanished when Eli’s lips met the rim of his cup.

  Harnessed. Justin stared at Eli’s gloves. He didn’t know whether to despise Eli or flirt with him. “Is there a dress code?”

  “Other than requiring clothes? No.” Eli put his cup down. “Engineering tends to dress casual. You’ve seen how Sam and I dress.” He gave a light shrug. “You’ll be interacting with customers on occasion, but you’ll have warning.”

  “So if I came to work dressed like this”—Justin gestured at himself—“you wouldn’t throw me out?”

  Eli smiled and there was warmth to it, enough that Justin’s own cheeks heated in response. “I prefer the suit on you, but no, I wouldn’t throw you out. Sam wouldn’t blink, either.”

  He preferred . . . Shit. Not what Justin wanted to hear. I am so not having fantasies about this man. He took a breath. “Thank you. I need to read this fully. I’ll let you know in a day or two.”

  “Of course.” He glanced over at Brian. “I’m guessing your current employer knows you’ve been interviewing?”

  Behind the counter, Brian was trying very hard to look like he wasn’t listening to every word. “Yeah. He knows.”

  Eli finished his coffee and stood. “Let us know when you can start.” He picked up his gloves and grabbed his cane. “I look forward to working with you, Justin.”

  Hearing his name from Eli again drove the air from his lungs. The memory of his orgasm and why he’d come so fast sent a tremor through him. “Can’t wait.”

  “Neither can I.” Eli’s grin was sharp. Wicked. Sexy. He turned and headed toward the door.

  Well, shit. He had a job. And another raging boner for Eli. Justin drank his coffee. Turned on by a control freak. Not good, if his past was anything to go by.

  Working for Sam Anderson might be more difficult than he thought. He touched the white envelope. For what they were offering, he damn well would excel at this job, Eli or no Eli.

  Chapter Three

  A week and a half after he’d handed Justin the offer letter, Eli let Justin, backpack and bike helmet in hand, into the office as an employee. The eyeliner was back, highlighting his intense blue eyes, along with black jeans and a dark blue t-shirt, a toned-down version of his Grounds N’at outfits. Justin had added a black cord tight around his neck as an accent.

  Leather, from the looks of it. How hard would it be to tuck a finger under that and yank? Eli let his gaze linger as Justin shifted from foot to foot.

  Justin licked his lips. “Going to come out here every day to let me in?”

  “Only today.” He handed over a keycard. “Please don’t lose that. They’re a pain to replace.”

  Justin looked at the card for a moment before sliding it into his back pocke
t. “Wouldn’t want to cause you any extra work.” A lilt to that, and a sly grin.

  Oh, Justin was going to be quite the handful. “Given that job is now yours, you’d only be causing yourself pain.”

  “Self-flagellation isn’t my thing.”

  Eli turned toward the inner door. “Oh?”

  “It’s no fun whipping yourself.”

  Eli stumbled at the thought that chased after those words—Justin’s naked back stretched out and open, the weight of a flogger in Eli’s hand, the smell of the leather and flesh—and caught himself against the doorframe.

  “Shit, are you okay?” Justin gripped his arm at the elbow and helped Eli upright, sending lightning into Eli’s veins.

  He’d never been so grateful for his injury. “Yes. Sometimes it gives out when I least expect it.” True, though certainly not in this case.

  Justin let him go.

  In the faint reflection of the glass door, questions chased across Justin’s features, but he was good enough not to ask. Eli pulled the door open and answered anyway. “I was in a car accident when I was fifteen. My leg was crushed.”

  Yes, Justin certainly had a very lovely blush. “I wasn’t—I didn’t—” He stood rooted to the floor.

  That wouldn’t do. Nor would grabbing that tiny cord and leading him down the hall. Eli gripped Justin’s shoulder, savoring the tremor that ran through Justin, and squeezed. “It’s the question everyone asks. I’m not offended.” He gave Justin a little push. “Come on.”

  This time, Justin moved and Eli followed. And there was the tempting expanse of Justin’s back, in a tight t-shirt. “We’ll start at your new desk.”

  As Eli expected, Justin remembered the office layout, and strode forward toward the office he’d be sharing with Sam. When they reached the room, it was as it had been—empty. “I didn’t know what supplies you’d need. I’ll show you where we keep them.”

  “Thanks.” He dropped the bag and helmet on the desk, and peeked into the adjoining office. “No Sam?”

  “He’s dropping his partner, Michael, off at the airport.”

  “Mr. Margarita on the desk?”

  He didn’t even bother to hold back the laugh. “Yes, that’s Michael in the photo.”

  “He looks . . .” Justin shrugged. “Not the kind of guy I’d expected Sam Anderson to date.”

  “What did you expect?”

  A flush crept up his neck. “I don’t know.” He ran a hand through his too-black hair. “Someone more like him? A business guy? Not . . .” He gestured at the office. “Jimmy Buffett.”

  If Justin only knew. Eli stepped in, closer than he should, but the office was small. “There you go with your assumptions,” he murmured close to Justin’s ear.

  Eli longed to put a finger under Justin’s slack jaw and push his mouth closed. An unexpected warmth grew in Eli’s chest.

  Propriety, Eli. He stepped away. “Michael Sebastian is the vice president of research and development at Sundra Networks.”

  “Oh.” Justin cleared his throat. “So no Sam?”

  “It’s just the two of us at the moment.”

  “No one else? I mean, engineering?”

  “They’ll be wandering in soon, I’m sure.”

  “Good.” Justin sucked in a breath. “I mean—not that you aren’t—shit.”

  Oh yes, Justin wore nervousness well. Parted lips, rapid breath. Hard cock, judging from the impressive bulge. “Lost your words?”

  “No coffee this morning.”

  Now, that was a surprise. “There’s a rather fine coffee shop below us.”

  “I know.” There was that spark, the defiant glare. “I used to work there, you might recall.”

  Eli said nothing, just folded his arms.

  Justin’s shoulders sagged. “I was going to stop. But . . . it’s weird going as a customer. No hopping behind the counter, you know? Having Brian wait on me when I know perfectly well how to make what I want.”

  Another interesting trait. Was it not being allowed to do a task he was capable of? Or did Justin resent being waited upon? “Change can be hard.”

  Justin held Eli’s gaze. “Sometimes it’s worth the pain.”

  Yes, Justin, but are you? “Let me show you where we keep the office supplies.”

  * * *

  After Eli showed Justin the supply closet, and where the free pop resided in the kitchen, everyone else trickled in—but for Sam. Eli left Justin to engineering, thank goodness.

  Justin was intelligent. Mouthy. A charmer. His interactions with the engineering team had been instructive. Open and energetic, but calculated in many ways. A smile here, a laugh, a gesture to ease nerves, to pave the way to friendship.

  How much was Justin playing Eli? A game of power? Eli settled into his desk chair and let that thought cascade though his blood. Don’s lessons flooded back. The Art of War. Etiquette. When to bend to an opponent and when not to.

  Those had all been on business—Eli had learned other lessons elsewhere that had been as instructive about human nature. As much as he wanted to apply those to Justin . . . he wasn’t about to take his boss’s assistant home, tie him down, and flog him.

  Those little quips were likely Justin attempting to be edgy.

  Time to call Lyle and go to a party. He needed an outlet to sate his inappropriate lust. Sam hired him to be a professional, not a fool.

  Eli sighed and opened the Sanhex Equipment folder and settled into finding every reason they shouldn’t take on this account. Sanhex was huge, but kept losing market share because of incompetent leadership, financial decisions, and marketing. That would be hard to change, but if Sam could, the business that would bring in would be astounding. A soft rap against his open door startled Eli out of his research and his gut lurched. Justin?

  No, it was Sam. A very tired, relaxed, glowing Sam. Eli huffed a laugh. Must have been a good send-off.

  “Don’t give me that look.” Sam’s words held no bite.

  “Wouldn’t dare.” Eli pushed back from his desk. “How long is Michael gone this time?”

  The smile faltered. “Two weeks. Well, sixteen days. Training, a conference, then customer meetings.”

  Meaning Sam would need distracting, preferably by work. “I’ve been going over the Sanhex proposal.”

  “Good. I expect you’ve already listed seventeen reasons why we should say no.”

  Eli glanced at his monitor. “Only twelve. But I’m not finished.”

  There was Sam’s grin. Good.

  “Of course you aren’t.” Sam nodded toward his own office. “How’s Justin doing?”

  “Hopefully Sertab’s got his laptop set up.”

  “If she’s finished, you can train him on expense reports, since I know how much you love doing mine.” Sam gestured for Eli to follow.

  A good task for Justin to start with. Not just Sam’s reports, but everyone else’s, too. Better for Justin to handle that particular pain. Plus, it introduced Justin to the staff and the companies they were working with. A gentle ramp-up. Eli rose and grabbed his cane. Gave him something to do with his hands, least he reach for something entirely inappropriate. Like Justin.

  Sertab sat at Justin’s desk while Justin leaned over, both his hands on the desk. ”. . . and to launch the VPN, click this,” she said.

  Justin’s t-shirt had ridden up, and what a fine view that provided. “That’s easy enough,” Justin said.

  Eli planted his cane against the carpet. Too tempting to thwack that band of flesh.

  Sertab leaned back. “If you have any problems, let me know.” She looked over her shoulder. “Hey, Sam.”

  “Morning.” Sam glanced at his watch. “For a little while yet.”

  Justin righted himself, his expression shifting from smooth and confident to parted lips and reddening cheeks when he saw Eli. Nice, but certainly Sam caught that.

  “All settled in?” Sam gestured at the laptop.

  “Tech’s done,” Sertab said. “Rest is up to you guys.
” She stood and paused at the door. “Justin, Ping-Pong starts at four thirty, if these guys let you loose.”

  “You know what they say about all work and no play,” Justin said.

  She laughed and was gone.

  “Somehow, I doubt you’re ever a dull boy.” Eli couldn’t resist.

  Justin froze.

  Sam choked, trying not to laugh. “E, behave.” He pointed at his office. “In. Both of you.”

  Eli felt Justin’s stare burrowing in between his shoulder blades as he entered Sam’s office. Still, the line had been too good to pass up.

  Sam rounded his desk and took his seat and swallowed a hiss on the way down.

  Someone had fun last night. Sore ass. Back, too, given Michael’s tastes. He stole a glance at Justin—yes, he’d noticed Sam’s wince as well.

  Very interesting.

  “You’ll have to forgive Eli. He’s not one to pass up an opportunity for wit.”

  “I’m not sure that qualified as wit,” Justin said.

  He should have laid his cane across that ass. “Considering what I had to work with—”

  “Considering,” Sam said, “that you’re going to be training Justin this afternoon, can we keep the blood loss down to a minimum?” Sam grinned.

  Justin relaxed. “Truce?”

  Eli stared down at Justin. “No bloodletting and a truce are two very different things. Unless, of course, you want to conce—”

  “Challenge accepted.” The timber of Justin’s voice took Eli’s breath away.

  Sam coughed. “If you two are finished?”

  Justin didn’t speak. Eli nodded.

  “Good.” Sam explained what he expected of Justin and which tasks Eli would oversee—those dealing with finance. “Eli will hand over HR duties to you, if you’re up for that.”

  Justin sat up straighter. “I am. But—” His Adam’s apple shifted his little leather necklace. “I have two semesters left. Classes. My capstone.”

  “Taken into consideration. We’re seven people. I don’t anticipate hiring more at the moment, so there should be enough downtime. If there isn’t, tell me, and we’ll work something out.”

  “Thanks.” Justin let out a slow exhale. “Good to know.”

  “And yes, Ping-Pong is fine,” Sam said. “Even Eli takes a break once in a while.”