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Having him stay was tempting, but Thorne would never finish his work if he did. “I told the service I only needed a few hours of your time. And, as I already told you, I have work to do.”
“You have heard of weekends, right?”
“My clients don’t care what day of the week it is.” He tapped his laptop. “I need to finish this report.”
“What you need is to relax.”
That was why he scheduled time for sex every Friday. “What the fuck do you think I just did?”
“You came spectacularly, but you’re already tense again. Sex is one way to relieve tension, but it’s clearly not enough for you.”
Where did Dash get the goddamn nerve to lecture him? And why hadn’t Thorne kicked him out? “I don’t do post-sex cuddling if that’s what you’re thinking.”
Dash grinned. “I would never accuse you of such a thing.”
What the fuck did that mean?
“So what do you do for fun?” Dash asked, ignoring Thorne’s wish for him to leave. “Watch TV?” He gestured toward the enormous flat-screen on the wall in front of the couch.
“No.” Thorne didn’t have time to lie around like that.
“Do you read?”
“Reports for work. Rarely anything else.”
Dash sighed and shook his head. “Junk food? Surely you at least eat cake, doughnuts, candy, something?”
Thorne hesitated. Cake used to be a major weakness. Then he hit forty and had to work extra hard to maintain his weight.
Dash grinned. “Ah. Now I got you pegged. You’d love to binge on chocolate cake, wouldn’t you? One with a dark ganache on top, maybe a rich cherry filling inside.”
Fuck. Cake had never sounded so hot as it did when Dash talked about it. “Okay, you discovered my secret. I have a sweet tooth. But this report still has to get written.”
Dash crossed the room and came to stand right by Thorne, still buck naked, of course.
“Surely, the report can wait a little while. Let’s have some cake together.”
Thorne reached out and skimmed his knuckles over Dash’s sleek abs. “Is that a euphemism?”
Dash winked. “It could be, but I think we should have the real thing first.”
“Are you always like this?”
“Like what?”
Thorne couldn’t find the right word to describe what he meant, and that was unsettling because he was rarely at a loss for words. He couldn’t afford to be with his clients. “You walk in and just take over. And you’re so fucking…happy.”
Dash laughed. “I try to see the good in everything.”
“How old are you?” Did Thorne really want to know?
“Twenty-two.”
Fuck.
“Ah, the optimism of youth.”
“You’re hardly an old geezer, you know.”
Thorne sighed. “I’m forty-two, but sometimes I feel a hundred.”
Dash leaned down and nibbled Thorne’s neck. Then he ran his tongue around the outer edge of his ear, making Thorne shudder. “You fuck like you’re twenty,” Dash whispered.
“Jesus, would you stop.” No wonder Dash could command top dollar with the most exclusive escort service in town. Thorne grabbed his phone and pulled up the number of Bavaria Haus, a nearby restaurant that made exquisite black forest cake.
His call was answered on the second ring. “Mr. Shipton, how may we help you?” Thorne recognized the voice. Niklas, the front-of-the-house manager.
“Good evening, Niklas.”
“It’s been too long. I hope you are well.”
“Very, thank you. Could you send two pieces of black forest cake and some Viennese coffee to my place?”
“For you, of course. Anything else?”
“Not tonight.”
“I’ll send Alex. He’ll be there in fifteen minutes. No more.”
Thorne recognized the name. Alex was one of the waitstaff who often worked the busy weekend nights. Niklas always sent one of the servers since they didn’t actually offer delivery. It was a perk for very special customers.
“You have my gratitude.”
“Enjoy your dessert.”
“I assure you, I will.” Thorne ended the call.
“Do you have a bakery on retainer?” Dash asked.
“Not exactly. I’m an excellent customer at Bavaria Haus. When I make special requests, they do their best to fill them.”
Dash shook his head. “In other words, they do whatever you say, just like most people.”
“That’s not—”
“Come on. Everyone does your bidding. That’s what you expect.”
Thorne would have been offended or at least pretended to be, but Dash looked like Thorne’s officious behavior turned him on. Did he get off on topping powerful men? If so, Thorne supposed it was no wonder Sheila had thought they were a match.
“It’s true. Most people do as I say.” You are an excellent example of an exception.
“So what are you working on?” Dash asked as he propped his naked ass on Thorne’s desk.
“A report. I told you that, and I’d like to get on with it while we wait for the cake.”
Dash ignored him, of course. “What kind of report? What do you do?”
“Aren’t you taught not to ask clients personal questions?”
Dash shrugged. “I figure we’ve been about as personal as two people can be.”
“Maybe I’d rather stay fairly anonymous.”
