More Than His Touch

Kieran couldn't quite nail down when he'd started drifting off. He was parked in his chair at the round conference table, eyes on his boss—the CEO of the startup where he worked—as the guy kicked off his presentation.

He'd tried to focus, honest to God, especially at the start. But about ten minutes in, Lucas shrugged off his suit jacket and rolled up the sleeves of his crisp white shirt to his elbows. Kieran's gaze slid from the man's face down to those strong arms, then lingered on his chest. He couldn't help himself; the guy was built like a damn sculpture.

Most dudes Kieran had been with—assuming you could call quick hookups "dating"—were early-twenty-somethings: skinny, full of energy, nothing heavy. But Lucas? Total outlier from his usual crowd. Twenty-seven, four years older than Kieran. Ivy League MBA under his belt, and he'd launched his own company at twenty-two.

Lucas stood tall, and Kieran didn't need X-ray vision to know there was solid muscle hiding under those clothes. Sandy brown hair, square jaw, bit of stubble—he was miles away from the scrawny types Kieran typically went for.

Kieran had never been into guys who towered over him, not really. But he'd give anything to feel Lucas pinning him down, doing stuff straight out of his dirtiest fantasies.

"Reece? Reece?" Lucas said his first name twice, snapping him out of it. Kieran sat up straight, meeting his boss's frown.

"Yes, Mr. Salazar?" Kieran managed.

"I asked if you'd be good with this?" Lucas said. Kieran blinked, clueless about whatever "this" was. Asking now would dig him a hole.

"Yeah, sure thing, sir," he said. Lucas arched a brow for a beat, then dove back into the slides.

"Can't believe you just agreed," Nina whispered. Kieran glanced her way; she looked like she was fighting a laugh.

"And what the hell did I agree to?" he muttered back. Luckily, Lucas was facing the projector, jabbing at his PowerPoint.

"You're messing with me, right?" Nina shot back, deadpan, staring at him like he'd grown a second head. Kieran just shrugged, earning an eye roll.

"You gotta start listening in these things," she said. "You signed up for overtime the next two weeks, helping Lucas prep his investor pitch."

"Overtime? Two weeks?" Kieran's eyes bugged out as he gawked at her. "Shit."

"Say hi to late nights solo with the boss," Nina muttered, leaning back.

Kieran wet his bottom lip without thinking, mulling over her words. Yeah, grinding through late hours for two weeks straight would blow. But alone with Lucas? That might just make the grind worthwhile.

He'd been at the company about fourteen months, but talks with Lucas never went beyond work stuff. Small office, maybe twenty people total.

Most were in their thirties or forties. Kieran, a couple others, and Lucas were the young guns in their twenties.

Even in that crowd, Lucas kept things strictly pro with everyone. He'd tag along for the odd lunch or dinner, but it felt more like duty than him wanting to hang.

Lucas kept himself locked down tight, and that mystery only ramped up Kieran's itch to peek behind the curtain.

The meeting wrapped soon after, and Kieran had to beg Nina for a recap. She gave him some sass but filled him in anyway.

"What're you up to tonight?" Anwar, another coworker, asked, slinging an arm around Kieran's shoulders.

"Catching some Z's," Kieran said.

"Now that you're basically crashing at the office starting Monday—wanna hit a club and blow off steam?" Anwar grinned.

Kieran dug his coworkers-slash-buddies, but a week's worth was his limit. Friday night, all he craved was heading home for a long bubble bath with wine, ribs, then zoning out to a sitcom till he passed out.

"Maybe another time," Kieran said, zipping his bag.

"Maybe another time," he repeated smoothly while packing.

"Come on, Reece, you never come out anymore! You say you've got plans, but you just admitted you're free!" Anwar pushed.

*Damn, walked right into that,* Kieran thought.

"Fine, but I'm out by eleven," he caved. Anwar clapped his shoulder, pumped.

"Sweet! Lobby in ten."

Kieran grunted. Anwar headed to his desk as Lucas stepped out of his office, bumping into the guy.

"Hey, boss! We're off to the Flaming Bird—wanna come?" Anwar asked.

Pure courtesy; they always invited, he always bailed with work excuses. And it wasn't BS—the dude was a workaholic machine.

"I have—"

"Nina, Miles, and Reece are in," Anwar cut in.

"Oh, yeah, what time you heading out?" Lucas said. Anwar froze; nobody saw that coming.

"Uh, like now?" Anwar stammered. Lucas nodded.

"See you downstairs."

Lucas ducked back into his office. Anwar spun to Nina and Kieran, mouthing *what the fuck?* They just shrugged.

Suddenly, Kieran was buzzing about whatever the night might bring.

The club's a short hop from the office, so soon they were huddled at a table, beers in hand. Lucas's presence made it weird. Nina and Anwar were wildcards, but with the boss? They reined it in.

Kieran nursed his beer, staying quiet. He couldn't stop sneaking looks at Lucas, who caught him a few times, holding the gaze.

An hour in, Lucas called it. Table groaned, but he stuck to having early plans next day and bailed.

Boss gone, Anwar slammed shots. Miles grabbed the next round, then more kept flowing. Everyone but Kieran hit the floor, wasted.

Kieran was buzzed too, but dancing wasn't his jam, so he stayed put.

Nina and Miles were grinding close on the floor; Kieran rolled his eyes. Office secret: they crushed on each other hard, but neither budged. Getting old.

His eyes landed on a guy a few tables over. Perfect type: cute, lean, killer smile. Echoed his high school ex, stirring a faint ache.

They locked eyes, and Kieran knew the signals from club nights past. Guy nodded toward the floor; Kieran stood. He didn't dance, but he'd sway to the beat, work his charm for a hookup.

"I'm Luke," the guy said, moving to the music. Kieran pressed in behind, hands on his waist.

"Nice," Kieran said. Should've given his name, but for a one-off? Whatever.

Kieran rutted his hard-on against Luke's ass, drawing a soft moan. Luke snagged his hand, tugging toward the bathrooms. Kieran went willingly.

Lips crashed in the restroom, all hunger as they stumbled in. Kieran flipped the lock while they made out. His hand slipped under Luke's shirt, teasing nipples, pulling moans into the kiss.

Luke yanked at Kieran's zipper, and in seconds, he dropped to his knees, taking Kieran in his mouth. Kieran shut his eyes, hand in Luke's hair, fingers twisting as he eased him along.

Kieran was pretty sure—mostly sure—he'd locked the door. Or tried. So when it swung open and his boss loomed there, face shocked, Kieran iced up.

Luke didn't clock the intruder, kept sucking, and damn if Kieran didn't throb harder.

Shock hit Kieran first; he tightened his grip in Luke's hair.

Lucas gaped as Kieran held Luke's head and started pumping into his mouth. Kieran locked eyes with his boss the whole time, railing the guy's face without blinking.

Booze and lust had him wrecked—not for the dude on his knees in this grimy club bathroom, but for the man he'd been craving all year. The one staring with that raw intensity.

Luke picked up pace, sucking the tip hard enough that Kieran squeezed his eyes shut, head thunking the wall as he groaned deep.

When Kieran looked again, Lucas was gone.