December 6

DECEMBER 6

“Parker, if you hum ‘Santa Claus is Coming to Town’ one more time, you won’t live to see another Christmas.”

I shot Mya a scowl before I returned to my screen. “That’s harsh.” But I wasn’t going to let her kill my buzz. Santa was coming to town. In fact, he’d recently landed at LAX.

“Are you almost done with the pamphlets?” Kim asked me.

I nodded. “Five more minutes.” I loved my job when they had me design logos for new projects and events within the company, but less so when I had to redo a bunch of crap past the deadline. And then I got shit because they were late? Today, we were editing some of the material for an international conference the higher-ups were hosting in Europe in a couple of weeks.

It was going to be huge. Five cities, countless vendors our corporation worked with, parties, dinners, and big money. I knew Clarke Abrams was the keynote speaker at a whopping three locations, so he was gonna spend a lot of time on a private jet this Christmas. Wyatt was attending too, though I didn’t know where yet. I was working on his material tomorrow.

That’s what he said.

I snickered to myself and sent another file to Kim.

“Two more files,” I said. “Have we received the schedule for our merry band of Abramses who are attending yet?”

“I’ll forward it,” Mya replied. “I’m making changes for Clarke’s address in Paris, which affects two of his children.”

“I hate changes,” Kim groused. “They’ve had the event planned for a fucking year.”

I huffed in agreement. “How many are going from the West Coast?”

“Seven, I think… Lemme check.” Mya pulled up a new window on her computer and scanned a list with text I couldn’t read from here. “Sorry, nine.” Then she laughed. “It really is a merry band of Abramses. Only two are non-related.”

“I wonder if Mr. Williams is going,” Kim mused.

I cracked up. The whole department knew he’d been invited to speak at a banquet in Luxembourg. Which was both a country and a city, I’d learned. He loved to bring it up.

“So we have Clarke Abrams,” Mya said, reading from the list. “Then his kids, Sean, Christian, Mary, Joey, his nephew Wyatt, his grandson Toby, and Mr. Williams from here, and someone from corporate I don’t know. And that’s just LA. He has eleven others flying out of New York, five of whom he’s related to.”

I chuckled. The conference started on the nineteenth and ended on the twenty-second, so everyone would still be home for Christmas, but even if they hadn’t been, they would’ve had the entire family gathered.

“Okay, you have everything now, Kim,” I said. “I sent you the mock-ups for the Paris event’s hotel lobby tabletop banners and the Luxembourg goodie bag design that required changes too. They gotta go to print ASAP.”

Right as I finished speaking, I heard a knock on the dividing wall between us and the cubicle area, and I looked up and was instantly smacked in the face by the happiest surprise. Not only was Mr. Abrams back, he was down here.

He’s here, he’s here!

“I hope the conference isn’t causing too much hassle,” he commented. “I heard my uncle’s PA requested changes to his itinerary.”

I managed a lopsided grin. He looked so fucking sexy, and I’d missed his voice.

Kim and Mya were visibly shocked to see the big boss down in our little corner.

“Nothing we can’t handle, sir,” I replied.

He smiled. “Good. Are you by any chance available for lunch?”

Oh, fuck yeah, I was. Holy shit, I couldn’t believe it. He was asking just like that? With coworkers nearby? He had to know that people talked.

“I could eat,” I managed to say. The grin was gonna need surgery to come off, though. “Now, or…?”

“Yes. Now. I have a car waiting.”

Well, then.

Fully aware Mya and Kim were giving me looks that told me they’d have questions later, I grabbed my jacket, my wallet, and my phone before I followed Mr. Abrams out of there.

We had the attention of everyone in the cubicle area too, it seemed.

It was less me and a lot more him, of course. They weren’t used to seeing him down here either.

When we reached the lobby, Mr. Abrams let me go first, and he put a hand on the small of my back to usher me toward the exit. Another thing he had to know people would talk about! It made me confused that he was so open. Overjoyed, sure, but confused.

“How was your flight?” I asked politely.

He held the door open for me. “Too long and uneventful.”

Uneventful was generally a good thing in my book where flights were concerned.

Mr. Abrams had the same driver as the other day, and he greeted me with a courteous nod and opened the door for me.

He deserved cookies, and I’d made plenty.

“I have Christmas cookies for you later,” I told him and got in. Same spot as last time. I didn’t wanna assume I’d suddenly be sitting next to Wyatt, although I was hoping for a heavy make-out session.

He took his seat across from me and had mirth dancing in his eyes.

“Did I say something funny?” I asked.

He shook his head. “Something sweet.”

Because of the cookies? I grinned. “There’s a whole gift basket waiting on your desk.”

He smiled, because he did that nowadays, and wouldn’t stop observing me. It was kind of unnerving. I didn’t know how to act or move forward. My body was already strung with anticipation to follow his lead—and I wasn’t sure that was awesome. We hadn’t really discussed anything. Were we going to date? Was this lunch a date?

“Where are we going?” I asked. “You’re not saying anything. It’s weird.”

That made him chuckle, and he folded one leg over the other and clasped his hands in his lap. “I’m merely enjoying my view. It was…frustrating not to see you yesterday.”

Just like that, the unnerving feeling evaporated.

“You’ve caused quite the stir in my head,” he said.

“Okay, but what about in your pants?”

He coughed around a laugh and grinned out the window. “There too.”

Hot. Now I couldn’t stop picturing him hard. I wanted to see him nekkid.

“I saw the gift basket,” he added. “I dropped off my luggage in my office before I came down to get you.” He faced me again, affection simmering in his expression. “It may be the sweetest gift I’ve ever received, figuratively and literally speaking. I…I hope you’ll help me eat it all.”

If my smile was half as goofy as I suddenly felt, I was in trouble. Talk about full-blown crush in effect already.

I detected a hint of tentativeness in him, however.

That was nuts.

“I’d love to.” I unzipped my jacket because it wasn’t that chilly. “The cupcakes are my favorite after snickerdoodles.”

“Somehow, that doesn’t surprise me.” He smirked a little. “You eat the frosting first, don’t you?”

“How else do you eat a cupcake?”

He rumbled a chuckle. “As long as there’s room for food. Dessert comes afterward.”

The way he said it made it sound like he was testing me for my response. Because it went without saying that I disagreed with him. Cupcakes were a perfectly fine dinner alternative. And for dessert, you could have ice cream, maybe.

“If you say so.” I scrunched my nose.

His eyes held a tone of severity that drew me in. “I do.”

I chewed on the inside of my cheek and stared at him. He was testing me. Or feeling me out.

This stuff was gonna get me horny before we even arrived at the lunch place.

* * *

Mr. Abrams took me to a restaurant owned by a friend of his, a man who just happened to be a celebrity chef, and I was immediately excited when I saw the interior and got a sense of what kind of place it was. It was called MAT, and it was all Southern cookin’ in a cozy yet exclusive setting. Okay, I didn’t care about the exclusive part, but the hot chicken and mac and cheese, on the other hand!

We were seated in an intimate, circular booth, and it didn’t escape my notice that he chose to sit beside me rather than across from me. Our knees nearly touched, and I paid attention to such things. I mean, I couldn’t not. I was running on a crush here.

I didn’t open my menu until he opened his, and even then, I couldn’t help but glance over to see what he was doing. More than ever, I needed to read him, to understand his reactions, to anticipate his needs and next move.

“There he is.” Mr. Abrams’s eyes sparked with friendly recognition as a handsome gentleman walked over, and he didn’t need a chef’s outfit to let anyone know it was his restaurant. Holy crap, August King was famous. Cam must’ve sent me dozens of his recipes. “It must be my lucky day to catch you on an LA trip. It’s been too long, my friend.” He rose to greet Mr. King, and the two hugged.

“You know you’re always welcome to visit us in Nashville,” Mr. King replied. “It’s mighty good to see you, Wyatt.”

Would ya look at that, Mr. Abrams actually had friends. Funnily enough, they reminded me of each other. Kind grins—now that I knew Mr. Abrams was capable of smiling—plenty of silver in their hair, similar builds. They looked to be similar in age too.

“I want you to meet my date,” Mr. Abrams said and sat down again.

I perked up and felt a smile tug at my mouth. He wanted his friend to meet his date. That was me!

“How I’ve waited to hear you say those words,” Mr. King commented with a wry smirk.

Mr. Abrams chuckled and rested his arm behind me along the back of the booth. “August is a dear friend of mine, though we don’t see each other often anymore. Parker works for the company and spent last week turning my world upside down.”

“Only from Wednesday,” I felt the need to clarify. My stomach did a little flip at his openness too. “Nice to meet you, Mr. King.”

“Likewise, Parker. Likewise.” Mr. King sat down next to Mr. Abrams.

I felt Mr. Abrams’s hand along my neck, his fingers rubbing my skin slowly, and it drew a shiver from me. It also had the weirdest calming effect, and I sent him a sideways smile and scooted a few inches closer.

“I actually spoke to August yesterday,” he admitted to me. “I asked when he would be in town next time, and he said he was already here to create the spring menu with his chef.”

Okay…?

Why did I feel like I was missing something?

“I didn’t know you needed a chaperone, sir,” I joked.

Mr. King found that funny.

“I told you he was a brat.” Mr. Abrams slid his buddy a smirk.

We were interrupted—or saved, maybe—by a server who asked about our orders. Mr. King let her take our drink order, but he wanted to handle our lunch himself. It wasn’t every day that happened, so I wasn’t going to complain!

While he stood up and spoke quietly to the server, I leaned closer to Mr. Abrams.

“If this is a date, can I start using your first name in my head now?” I asked.

His forehead wrinkled with a bit of confusion, but his expression held amusement too. “What have you been using so far?”

“Mr. Abrams, of course.” Duh. Then because I was me, I had to ramble about it. “It happens naturally when I’m around men who give off that sexy, dominant vibe. Aside from work-stuff, obviously. Every Abrams in the company is Mr. and Ms. Abrams to me, but to tell them apart, we have to use your first names too. I just wouldn’t address you by your first name to your face.” It was one of those few things that would’ve embarrassed me.

Maybe it was how I’d been raised, I didn’t know. My mom’s side of the family was strict on labels and formal stuff. I’d called my great-grandfather the Major until he’d died when I was ten.

“Sexy, dominant vibe,” Mr. Abrams echoed. With a slight grin tugging at his lips, he closed the distance between us and kissed the corner of my mouth.

I wasn’t prepared for that! I was a little unsettled, to be honest. I needed to know protocol.

“I’m only Mr. Abrams at work,” he murmured in my ear.

I shuddered and swallowed dryly. Could I kiss him? I wanted to kiss him. “Okay.” I tilted my face toward his an inch or two and tested a smile.

He did the same right before he pressed a kiss to my mouth—and that right there, that was the stuff.

I wasn’t going to get ahead of myself; we were in a public place, but I craved a small taste. I moved my hand to the curve between his neck and shoulder and angled myself for a deeper kiss. He smiled at that and swept the tip of his tongue against mine, and that was all. It was the fuel I needed. Then we broke the kiss with an unhurried one and rested our foreheads together.

“I hate to interrupt.” Yet, Mr. King was interrupting. “I just wanted to say lunch will be out in ten minutes. We’ll catch up soon.”

“Thank you, August.” Mr. Abrams—Wyatt—sent him a quick, polite smile before returning his attention to me. He cupped my face in his hands and kissed me once more. “I hope you don’t mind I told him a little about you.”

“I don’t mind. I just can’t imagine what would be interesting enough to discuss.”

“I can think of countless things.” He sat back as our drinks arrived. “But the reason I went to him is because he shares a Daddy/boy dynamic with his partners. Two Daddies and one boy.”

Thank fuck I hadn’t taken a sip of my Sprite yet! I would’ve choked.

I gulped instead, and my eyes widened.

He eyed me carefully. “I didn’t mean for that to sound…drastic. Or sensational. I’ve picked up on some of your traits, and I wanted to be prepared.”

Prepared for what? I wasn’t some advanced kinkster. I’d dabbled, I guessed. I’d had a couple relationships with elements of that kind, and I knew I was a sub. I had fantasies and what I supposed I would call a core fetish, but I’d never met anyone I’d felt comfortable with enough to explore it all to the fullest. It’d been one thing or the other. Romance or playtime. Casual with kink components or regular relationship, never both, never at the same time.

To be honest, the topic made me a little uncomfortable because I didn’t know Wyatt’s agenda. Did he want to date me or just play with me?

Maybe I should call Cam. He was much more involved in that lifestyle. Like, he was part of a community and everything.

While we waited for our food, I did my best to explain my brief experience with Daddy/Little boy kink, with emphasis on how insignificant fantasies were if the chemistry wasn’t right. And that wasn’t the full extent of it. I could have blazing chemistry with someone and still feel like that kink part of me was dormant.

“It’s as if I’m two people sometimes,” I said. “The man I am and the boy I am. Both have to connect with the man in someone else, as well as the Daddy in them. Does that make sense?”

“Very much.” He gave my knee a squeeze. “Dabble is a good word for my own experience. It was cut short when I met my ex.”

That was interesting. I tilted my head. “So you were a Daddy Dom to someone before you got married?”

“That’s a stretch. But I did meet August at an event for Daddy Doms and Littles back in the day—it was how we came to know each other. I…I felt a connection to a part of myself I had barely acknowledged.” He dropped his gaze to his beer and brushed a finger over the foot of the glass. “Nothing went beyond casual, though, and I met Tom shortly after.”

Tom had to be the ex-husband.

“Meeting you is reawakening something I thought I’d buried for good,” he admitted.

I made a face. “If you bury living things, they tend to come back like zombies, sir.”

He chuckled softly and pressed a kiss to my temple. “They do, don’t they?”

I nodded and took a big swallow of my soda. It made my nose tickle, so I rubbed it vigorously.

For some reason, that made him cup my face and kiss me hard. A hard, swift kiss. “How you act—how you speak, how you carry yourself, the things you say—I need a bigger dose of you, Parker.”

Gah!He was draining every ounce of discomfort from before when he talked like that. I felt my body and mind gravitate toward him.

It hit me that maybe he didn’t have an agenda. Maybe he was just open about the questions he had, the preferences he’d once buried, how they were now returning, and that he simply wanted. But the exact route and pace, we could decide together.

“We should have dinner together too.” I found a quick hiding spot when I kissed his neck where he smelled fucking incredible. “They last longer than lunches.”

“Mm, it’s a good start, at least. Are you free tomorrow?”

“I—” Fuck. I actually wasn’t. “Kim and I squeezed in an extra rehearsal with a few others in our dance squad. What about Wednesday?”

“I’ll move some things around.” He nodded once. “I’m looking forward to hearing more about your dance hobby.”

I was looking forward to showing him my moves in the bedroom, first and foremost.