Feel Me

Chapter Eighteen

“So am I?”

Hilda glared at him with an annoyed huff. “Leave I’ll have another take care of that. And for God sakes use the elevator.”

“Obviously.” He muttered sourly abandoning the untouched carrots, taking the cart by the handle and pushed sluggishly, dodging Hilda’s incoming hand in time.

†

Brennan looked up from the paper work as the door opened with a dark scowl which vanished at the sight of Toran wheeling in his food. His gaze snapped from the covered dish to Toran as they both neared him. “Why are you serving me? What happened to the others?”

Toran shrugged, placing the covered dish on a table along with the napkin and silverware. “Apparently we’re short-staffed as it is. Hilda sent me.” He replied with a hint of scorn.

Brennan arched an amused brow. He’s pissed. “Huh.” His fingers reached for the hidden button under his desk and pressed it, locking the door from inside.

Toran’s gaze flew to the door at the sound of the latch clicking in place, then glanced warily to Brennan as he lazily rose from his chair. He wore a thick woolen burgundy sweater and a pair of black jeans with dark brown suede boots. The sleeves of his shirt were pulled back slightly exposing his inked forearms.

Long, tapered fingers curved over the dome-shaped cover’s handle and lifted it.

“Lemon cakes? That’s what she was disturbing me for?” Toran said incredulously.

Brennan swiped a finger, scooping a little dollop of whip cream into his mouth and swallowed. “What? I like them and asked Hilda to make them.”

Toran remained silent remembering that no matter whatever was going on between them; Brennan was still his boss and his playfulness can switch to malevolence in a heartbeat
Brennan left the dessert and stalked towards Toran. His dark eyes narrowed at the net on the dark brown head and snatched it from his head, dropping it on the floor. His warm fingers delved into the dark curls with a smile. “Is something wrong?”

“Who has lemon cakes in the afternoon.” Toran muttered with a scoff.

“I do. It’s never too late or too early for dessert.” He closed the distance between them completely. “And although I wasn’t expecting you here,” His voice slid into a wickedly soft whisper, his hand snaked to cup Toran’s face. “I won’t mind having the main course instead.” His lips covered Toran’s, seeking entrance and tasting him; melding the residue taste of whip cream against Toran’s tongue.

They merged into one, tongues slid hotly against one another in an erotic dance. Toran gripped the edge of the long desk for balance, and felt Brennan lift him to sit on the smooth, polished surface of the desk, making room between Toran’s legs as the kiss deepened with excruciating heat. A growl brushed his lips.

Toran parted his thighs further, groping the thick dark gold curls, nipping hard and hungrily at the velvet smooth lips.

Brennan reached behind Toran for the strings of his apron and deftly untied it, pulling back slightly to tug it off along with the white shirt; leaving him bare to his waist. The thin steel chain around his deep caramel neck intrigued him.

“Excuse me, sir. Mr Rox is not available. He’s out for lunch.” Lia’s voice came from the door, stopping whoever it was outside the door from entering.

Brennan’s velvet lips trailed down Toran’s neck and collarbone in an open-mouthed kiss, raking his tongue and teeth on the sensitive skin there.

Toran barely held back a hiss of pleasure, stroking Brennan’s head as he moved lower to his chest, nibbling hard on his puckered nipples.