Still, it had been a sweet gesture.
Chapter eight
Bazhadunderestimatedhowintense juggling forty-two plaintiffs was.He reached out to every single one of them, introduced himself as their new counsel, tried to get them all in the same room next week to discuss whatever settlement Ian would propose on Thursday—and got fifteen responses within the hour.
Some asked what happened to Grash, others asked who Baz was to take over, but mostly, it was conflicts with the proposed date.
He spent hours answering concerned phone calls, convincing people that hearing a settlement offer was more important than watching the twenty-thousandth season finale ofGeneral Hospital, and yes, probably more important than that Icelandic class too, and no, it couldn’t just be an email because there would inevitably be more questions and contrary to some people’s beliefs, Baz was not a parrot.
The good news was, one oat milk flat white mocha from Aya’s favorite coffee shop had made up for his bad mood yesterday, so they juggled the incoming questions together.
The bad news was, it was a wasted effort.All settlement talks were doomed to fail as long as Ian was on the case.There was no hope for Sami to be the voice of reason in that duo either; he needed some sense of his own first, because why was he still texting Baz?
Annoying Stalker
i didnt get a raise :(
The words landed in his inbox around noon, loaded with a false innocence Baz saw right through.
Obviously, he couldn’t care less.Yet his mind assaulted him with quips that his fingers were itching to send, about Ian having a brain after all and whether Sami got a pat on the head for being such a good boy.
Theguess seeing me shirtless will remain your only rewardwas typed out before Baz remembered who they were to each other and deleted it instead.He couldn’t—shouldn’t—entertain whatever the hell this was, no matter how tempting it might be.And tempting it was, finding out if Sami had been right about being hot underneath those god-awful clothes…
Shaking his head, Baz focused back on the email he was typing, convincing yet another client to reassess their priorities.It was their livelihood they were talking about, after all.Did an appointment at the dog groomer’s really compare to—
Bzz bzz.
and what a reward it was…
Baz’s heart plummeted to his stomach.Had he—he had.The message sat in his chat with Sami, very much not deleted.Fuck.
He slammed his phone upside down like that would miraculously undo his mistake.
Would Sami see this as a sign that Baz was open to his madness?It shouldn’t matter.This was Sami’s case too.The rules applied to both of them.And not getting seduced by the opposing counsel was a big fucking—albeit unspoken—rule.Sure, Sami was bold and annoying and had a track record of poor choices, but did that equate to recklessly risking his job?
It would be best for both of them if they stomped out whatever spark of attraction there might be between them.
And yet, when Baz cozied up in bed that night, the hazel eyes crept back into his mind.The way Sami licked his delicious-looking lips when he checked Baz out.And then there was that speechless expression, the thrill when Baz teased him back.The stolen touches that had tantalized Baz’s whole body.It was all so… Fuck.
Baz kicked the comforter off lest he overheat.His dick was rock-hard and leaking already, twitching when Sami’s words from the bar echoed through his mind:Keep wishing for it.See what happens.Like it could be real, like it could be Sami’s hand jerking him off with that fucking grin… Baz came all over his hand and stomach.
Twice more that night, he sought release from Sami haunting his thoughts.All it did was build up the pressure inside of him, threatening to explode.
His fatigued wrist still plagued him in the office the next morning; a constant reminder of his weakness, distracting him from focusing on the plaintiff madness.How worrisome that the prospect of going home to be alone with his memories—and his hand—was what kept him going through the mess of emails and paperwork.
It was just after eightpmwhen he all but collapsed on his desk, massaging his temples.His throbbing headache had developed an immunity to ibuprofen.
When he closed his eyes, printed words, snippets from emails and documents, danced in front of them.And in the midst of it all, Sami’s face, his easy smirk.The drop of gin running down his neck that Baz was dying to sink his teeth into…
God, he was pathetic.What the hell was Sami doing to him?He had seen gorgeous men before!Though never one with such a quick mouth too, challenging and insulting him while somehow also managing to flirt.One so damn confusing, Baz was losing his mind over him.
Baz sighed and called it a day.There was no way he could be productive tonight.Bad enough he had to see Sami tomorrow, he refused to look terrible when he did.It would only invite more of Sami’s bad jokes, and lord knew he needed less of Sami in his life, not more.
Baz slammed the door to his apartment shut and flopped onto his gray leather couch.He just about bothered to rid himself of his tie and jacket and let whatever rerun ofGolden Girlsthat was on fill the silence.
His neck hadn’t been this stiff in… ever.The muscles refused to loosen even as Baz moved it back and forth, side to side.He was getting old.And he didn’t even have anything of worth to show for it.
The harsh knock on the door drummed in his head.The groan that clawed its way up his throat came from a black pit deep inside him.No.No people, not now—
