Inappropriate Conduct
They scrolled together—Jamie still standing between Julian’s thighs, one hand braced on Julian’s shoulder, the other clicking through images.
The main space: open, bright, perfect for dual desks.
The corner nook: already wired for multiple monitors.
The small private office: soundproofed walls, door that locked.
Jamie lingered on that last photo.
“For when we need to scream at each other,” he said, half-joking.
Julian huffed a laugh. “Or for when we need privacy.”
Jamie’s eyes darkened.
He set the laptop aside.
Climbed into Julian’s lap—towel slipping lower, knees bracketing Julian’s hips.