4. Ford

CHAPTER 4

FORD

Mondays were always tedious. This Monday, more so, because I was making a concerted mental effort to not go downstairs and harass Boston Sheffield at his desk. My flirting with him had always come from a good-natured place, but I'd be lying if I said I was impartial about the outcome of things when it came to Boston. Flirting with him had at first started as a challenge, a way to piss Kale off more than normal, but something had changed on Friday in the way Boston reacted to my otherwise playful jabs.

As lunchtime neared, I gave up and rode the elevator down to Kale's floor with the intent to take him out to lunch—and also as an excuse to see his brother. It felt a little needy, especially by my standards, but desperate times and all of that. Or whatever. By the time the elevator reached Kale's floor, my palms were a little sweaty, which was a shocking new development. There was a nagging voice in the back of my head that wanted me to sit awhile and think about why I was so obsessed with Boston, but the elevator doors opened and I was on their floor, and there wasn't any time left for that. I wasn't a man who got sweaty hands over anyone, least of all a straight man who didn't know which way was up.

"Good morning, Kelsey," I greeted Kale's receptionist with a grin and mock salute. "Is Mr. Sheffield in?"

Her cheeks flushed. "Both of them."

"Perfect."

"I'll let them know you're coming." She reached for the phone and I gave her a pretend frown.

"No need."

I made my way around the desk and through the maze of cubicles and glass-walled conference rooms. Kale's office was in the back corner, split into two to accommodate him and still provide a private office for his assistant of the hour. Though privacy was debatable, considering most of the walls on his floor were made of glass.

I found the main door open, and I could hear Boston on the phone with someone before I even rounded the corner.

"Kale said I should come home for a visit, but I don't know when I'll have time," he said to someone, most likely his parents.

I'd spent many years teasing Kale about not just growing up on a farm, but also being named after the least enjoyable kind of lettuce in the world.

"Maybe in the spring…I can plan for it better…I know, I miss you both too."

I tapped my fingers on the doorframe, and Boston's head shot up looking like he'd just been caught in the act. His glasses slipped down the bridge of his nose and he used his knuckle to nudge them back into place, giving me a nervous smile before focusing down at his desk and pushing some pens around .

"I gotta go, Mom. Love you." He was quick to hang up the phone, only to turn his attention to a stack of papers he'd messed up in his rush and then made neat again.

"You good, Boston?" I asked, leaning against the doorframe, perfectly happy to watch him get more flustered with each passing second. If anything, his lack of composure made me feel better about how the weekend had gone for me.

On Friday, after an uneventful night at The Black Door, I went home alone and wanked over the fantasy of shooting my load all over Boston's thick, black-framed glasses. I woke up Saturday morning, still alone, and had a wank over the fantasy of coming in his mouth. For good measure, after lunch, I had another wank while thinking about what sounds he would make if he came in my mouth.

"Fine." He nervously scratched at the bottom of his chin.

"Is your brother here?"

Boston looked over his shoulder as if to check. "He went to the bathroom."

I looked over my shoulder then, but Kale was nowhere to be found. With a resigned sigh, I stepped into the office and closed the door behind me. Boston glanced at the door, then back to me as I settled into one of the visitors' chairs across from his desk.

"How was your weekend, Boston?" I asked.

He clenched his jaw, one of his cheeks going hollow as he bit it. "Why do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Use my name."

I huffed a laugh out of my nose, unbuttoning my suit coat and getting more comfortable in the chair opposite him. "Do you dislike your name?" I asked .

"No." He shook his head, just barely. "It's just most people don't use names anymore when they talk to other people."

"I can give you a nickname if you want." I leaned forward, and Boston's body swayed back and forth. "I could call you sweetheart if you like that better."

At the endearment, his nostrils flared and his jaw went slack.

It was a bad word choice, because calling Boston something as delicate and intimate as sweetheart had my cock jerking back to attention in my pants as if I hadn't already beaten it to within an inch of its life over the weekend.

"Leave my brother alone," Kale boomed from behind me.

I should have been startled. Boston sure was. But I was so singularly focused on the man in front of me, I could not have cared less about Kale's arrival. I straightened up slowly, standing and redoing the button on my coat. I knew my cock was not flaccid, and Boston's stare flickered toward my fly since it was practically eye-level. He snapped his jaw closed and swiveled his entire chair away from me and toward his computer.

"You're just jealous that your brother was named after a place and you were named after the shittiest kind of lettuce."

"Boston's named after lettuce too," Kale said, brushing past me and into the depths of his sprawling corner office. "Don't you have the fucking internet?"

I headed around Boston's desk to follow after Kale, stopping with my fingers beside his keyboard.

"Are you really?" I asked him softly.

"Mom's favorite and Dad's favorite."

"Which one are you? "

He licked his lips, glasses slipping once again down his nose.

"Don't tell me," I said, reaching out and pushing his glasses back up for him. "You're a mama's boy, aren't you?"

"What do you want, Ford?" Kale hollered from his desk.

I chuckled, taking my hand back and walking away from Boston. I closed the door behind me, taking a seat in front of Kale's desk and stretching my legs out before me. His office was nicer than mine, which was fair because he worked a lot harder than I did. I didn't know how he got any work done, because if I had a view like him, I'd do nothing besides stare out the damn window and daydream about putting my cock into Boston's mouth.

"I wanted to see if you were interested in getting lunch."

"I would if I could, but I made plans with Christian," he said, hardly apologetic.

"Don't you see him every day and also every night?"

"I do more than just see him." Kale gave me a devilish grin.

"Aren't you bored of fucking the same man every night yet?" I asked, wondering briefly how long it would take me to get bored of fucking his brother.

"Fortunately not," he said.

"Well, that's positively droll."

Kale busied himself shutting down his computer and grabbing his things from his top desk drawer.

"Do you want to get together this weekend?" he asked. "Christian wouldn't mind going back to The Black Door, and I wouldn't mind seeing everyone."

"Wouldn't mind." I scoffed. "You know you can do both, right? Have a boyfriend and friends."

Kale dragged his tongue across the front of his teeth, narrowing his eyes and glaring up at me. "I do both. You're here, aren't you?"

I gestured to all of the things he'd just shoved into his pockets. "And you're leaving."

"Friday night," he proposed, kicking my shoe as he walked past me toward the door between his and Boston's office. I stood up and headed after him, closing the door since it was clear he wasn't going to be gone for lunch, but gone for the day.

"Friday night," I agreed. "I'll tell Brooks and Alex."

"Alright." He looked at his brother. "You good the rest of the day?"

"I'll stay busy," Boston said.

"Or you can take a half day. That was the point of coming to work for me, wasn't it? Something less stressful?"

Boston looked up at his brother and let out a long and slow sigh. "I'll be good, Kale. You can go."

Kale pointed at me, brows knit together. "Leave my brother alone."

"I don't fuck straight men, Kale. Your brother's honor is safe in my hands."

Boston would sure be something if I ever got my hands on him, but I wasn't going to say that to Kale's face. The answer I gave must have satisfied him, though, because he said goodbye to us both and left without so much as a single look back. I debated sitting back down in front of Boston's desk, but ultimately decided against it, leaning against the edge instead.

"Anyway." I smiled down at him. "Where were we, sweetheart?"

Boston exhaled, looking past me. I watched him watch his brother go, then with a resigned breath, he settled his stare on me. Cocking my head to the side, I studied him in a way I never had bothered to before. Sure, I'd of course known he was attractive, but I'd never really taken the time to appreciate his features. He was similar to Kale, with the color of their eyes and the color of their hair, but Boston had a little more meat on him. His cheeks were rounder, softer, his eyebrows a little bushier, his mouth a whole lot fuller.

"My weekend was fine," Boston said, and I was about to ask him what he was talking about when I remembered he'd never answered my question.

"What did you do?"

I decided I wanted to stay awhile, so I sat down after all.

"A lot of thinking." He took his glasses off and tossed them haphazardly onto his desk, then reached up and rubbed the bridge of his nose. I clenched my jaw, swallowing back a wave of unbidden fantasies that went far beyond all the ways I wanted to cover Boston in my cum.

"You look distressed, Boston."

He inhaled sharply, leaning back and giving a sideways shake of his head. Pressing his fingertips against his eyelids, he groaned and then dropped his hands into his lap and blinked his eyes open. That was the first time I noticed the soft purple discoloration under his eyes, the bags that I was all too familiar with. A byproduct of sleepless nights, too much liquor, and an overloud brain.

"Why does…" he trailed off.

"Why does what?"

"Can you just…"

"Can I just what?"

"Fuck." Boston flexed his hands into fists and then spread his fingers wide, pressing his palms flat against his desk like he was about to lever himself over the top of it, but I couldn't tell if he wanted to kiss me or punch me. Maybe it was a little bit of both.

I'd have taken either.

"Do you ever just fucking stop?" he finally asked, blinking up at me with tired eyes. "Do you ever take a break?"

I swallowed and told him the truth. "No."

It wasn't in my nature to make anything easy for anyone. Not because I had malicious intent. In fact, it was quite the opposite. I'd worked hard my entire life for all the things I had, and I knew how sweet success tasted after the work was finished. I approached all parts of my life with the same philosophy, including flirting, including friendships, including sex.

There were men like Alex and Brooks, the kind who really got off on inflicting pain. And there were men like Kale, who got off on the authority and power of the whole thing. There were even men like Beamer, who preferred the other side of the coin entirely, and then there were men like me…the kind of man who was going to wring every ounce of pleasure out of your body over the course of the night and leave you begging for more.

Being with me wasn't easy, but it was always worth it.

In the end, at least.

"I can't think around you," he muttered.

"If things were different between us, you wouldn't have to," I said.

"What does that even mean?"

I sighed, leaning forward and picking Boston's glasses up from the desk. I wiped the damp sweat off the piece that sat on the bridge of his nose, then came around to the back side of the desk and dropped down so we were eye level. He inhaled a sharp breath, chin quivering as I inched closer and closer, and closer still. I could smell the coffee on his breath and the wintergreen mint he'd sucked on at some point in the morning. Closer still and I could smell his shampoo, his cologne. Carefully, I slid his glasses back onto his face, tucking his hair back behind his ears as I settled the frames.

His head lolled forward, pressing against my hand, which for some reason…I hadn't yet moved. His hair was unbearably soft between my fingers, and I allowed myself to lean closer and bury my nose in the silken, brown strands. I breathed in the scent of him, cock leaking against my thigh. This was more than I should have taken and definitely more than should have been allowed, but…

I wanted him.

"It doesn't mean anything at all, sweetheart. At least not for you."

Standing up had the unfortunate effect of bringing my half hard cock right to Boston's eye level again, and with his glasses back on his face, I knew he didn't miss the obvious bulge that had apparently taken up permanent residence between my legs. I wanted Boston Sheffield in a near animalistic way, and up until that moment, if there was something in life I wanted, I took it, but I couldn't take him. Kale had been right all along that fucking his straight brother was off the table. Any delusions I had otherwise were just that…

I took a step back, ready to make peace with mentally walking away from the person I wanted the most, but Boston reached out, curling his fingers around my thigh and stopping me in my tracks. We both gasped, both shocked at the touch. I slowly looked down at the way his palm covered the front of my leg, the way his fingers wrapped around the outside of my thigh.

"Boston," I said carefully, swallowing slowly so I didn't do or say the wrong thing. I was on the edge and I'd talked myself into going one way, but his fingers were desperately trying to shove me in the other direction. "What are you doing?"

"Why doesn't it mean anything for me?" he asked.

"Because you're straight, for one." I plucked at one of the fingers currently curled around my leg, ready to continue the list and remove his hand from me entirely. Before I could move on to the second reason—which damned if I could remember—Boston dug his fingers harder into my leg and looked up at me, brows knit together in confusion, asking the absolute last question I ever expected to come from his mouth.

"But what if I'm not straight after all?"