Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 91635 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91635 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
EPILOGUE
IT WAS REALLY GETTING TOO warm to keep wearing thicker, high-necked shirts around the office.
But Vic didn’t really have a choice, when even a lighter shirt might offer a shadowed glimpse of black leather against his throat—and the collar he wore, locked tight and snug against his skin, pressing just enough to remind him of Amani day in, day out, with each and every breath…
That collar was no one’s business but his Master’s.
But he was glad to rip his choking tie loose, as he climbed the stairs to their airy top-floor loft, with its light-filled spaces nearly glowing as the skylights reflected down on honey-toned ash flooring and the scattering of cellos in different sizes and finishes that somehow always seemed to end up everywhere, especially with Amani in the middle of the summer semester and constantly fidgeting over which instrument’s subtle differences in sound would work best with which performance piece. Ever since he’d changed his minor to a focus in performing arts, he’d been a whirlwind, planning out summer classes to catch up and graduate on time—and Vic couldn’t even be sure he’d find him home, when he might be down at the university performance hall, practicing for the acoustics, or might be out with his mother picking out furniture for either her new home, or theirs.
No…he was here. Vic heard the mellow notes of bow against strings before he even opened the door, soft and passionate and silky-smooth, and he smiled as he slipped in quietly, dropping both his briefcase and his tie in the foyer before easing the door closed with barely a click of the latch.
Amani sat in a straight-backed chair near one of the wide bay windows, sunlight sheeting over him as he swayed in time with the sweetly mournful music rising from quivering strings, amber eyes almost fully closed, his delicate face lost in rapture. Vic could have watched him like this for hours, the way he moved with such grace, everything in tempo, from the tumble of his hair to the flit of his fingers to his shallow, sighing breaths…to the back-and-forth sway of the slender silver chain around his neck, and the tiny key dangling from it.
Vic lingered on that key, as he unbuttoned the throat of his shirt and slipped his hand inside to trace over the slim leather band, the faint rise of the lock in the back, flushing with a touch of aching pleasure. He watched Amani for a moment longer, then ducked toward the kitchen, meaning to start on dinner—but Amani sucked in a breath, lifting his head, music stopping as he blinked owlishly.
“Oh,” he said dazedly—before smiling, warm and lazy, as he rose, propping the cello against the chair. “I didn’t even hear you come in. How goes another day of corporate dismemberment?”
“The usual. Everyone’s screaming, the Board’s tried to sue me six times just today, and my father’s completely uninterested in stopping my violent rampage through all of Newcomb Textiles’ holdings, which just makes watching everyone flail vastly more entertaining.” Vic grinned, stepping closer to draw Amani into his arms; he never got tired, even now, of the familiar way that lithe body fell against him, draped in another of his stylishly graceful caftans, that subtle hint of allure in every movement. “I never knew dismantling a business empire could be so fun. The legal team’s ready to kill me over the new startups, though.”
“They’ll get used to the new world order soon enough. I’ll bet Julie’s having fun with the new agritech subsidiaries, though.” Amani stretched up on his toes, catching Vic’s mouth in a soft tease, biting at him with gentle control until he groaned, knees sagging. “Mm…welcome home, pet. Did you do what you were supposed to today?”
“Mmn. I hated it, but I did it.”
“And?”
“…mmmngh.”
Amani’s eyes narrowed. “And?”
“…better. I’m out of the ‘Danger, Will Robinson, danger’ range and somewhere closer to not standing up too fast or I’ll get the vapors.”
A snort escaped pretty lips. “You could have just told me your numbers.”
“One thirty-six over eighty-four.”
“Which means you have to go back?”
“Which means I have to go back,” Vic admitted grudgingly. “It’s a step, though.”
“It is. And since you did as you were told and went to the doctor today…” Amani hooked his finger in Vic’s collar, sweet pressure against his throat making him swallow thickly, and tugged him down. “I did promise you a reward, sweet boy.”
“Ah, God.” Those two words still shot straight to his cock, pulling it on a tether. “Do I get to pick the reward?”
“Was there something special you had in mind?”
Vic nodded, but couldn’t open his mouth. He’d been working up to this in his head all day, half-distracted at work, turning over how he would say it, how he would ask, and yet now he was fumbling with his entire chest fluttering until he thought he’d pass out.