Page 111 of The Associate
The big man’s friendly smile had vanished. He looked from Gael’s face to Samuel, tucked against him, and then back to Gael. He gave a single, slow nod, his hands coming up in a placating gesture not unlike Landen’s had been. “My apologies,” he said, his voice still calm, but now carefully neutral. “No offense intended.”
Gael didn’t acknowledge the apology. He didn’t say another word. His arm tightened around Samuel’s waist, and he turned, guiding him firmly away from the bar, his steps purposeful anddirect, cutting a path through the lounge toward the archway that led to the exit. There was no discussion, no pause.
Samuel went without a sound, without a glance back. He let himself be led, the solid heat of Gael beside him the only thing that felt real in the suddenly too-bright, too-watchful room.
∞∞∞
Gael
The drive home was tense. Gael’s hands gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles standing out white and sharp against the dark leather. He stared straight ahead at the rain-slicked streets, but he wasn’t seeing the traffic lights or the blur of neon signs.
Every time he blinked, the image was there, branded on the backs of his eyelids: the Dom, that mountain of a man, standing too close. His green eyes fixed on Samuel with a bold, appreciative hunger. His large hand, coming to rest on Samuel’s arm.
A hot, corrosive feeling churned in his gut, tightening his chest. It was a primitive, snarling thing, utterly foreign to his mind. He had reacted on pure, unthinking instinct.
They arrived at his building too quickly. He’d driven on autopilot, his foot heavier on the accelerator than he’d realized. He pulled into the underground garage, the tires echoing too loudly on the concrete before Gael killed the engine.
He didn’t get out immediately. He sat, his hands still locked on the wheel, drawing in a long, slow breath through his nose. He needed to settle. This jagged, restless energy was dangerous. It was untethered. It was not him.
He didn’t get jealous. The concept was absurd. Ownership, in his world, was a negotiated, consensual framework. It was a structure of rules and mutual understanding, not this… this animalistic possessiveness that had roared to life at the sight of another man looking at what was his. He had acted like a fool. A dog snapping at the air around a bone.
Samuel was silent beside him, a quiet, watchful presence. Gael could feel the weight of his gaze, could sense the unasked questions hanging in the air of the car. He couldn’t answer them. Not like this. Not with this acidic heat still flooding his veins.
He finally released the wheel and opened his door. The cold, still air of the garage was a slap. He didn’t wait, striding toward the private elevator, his footsteps sharp and echoing. Samuel’s softer steps followed a pace behind.
Inside the elevator, the silence felt denser, trapped with them in the small, mirrored box. Gael faced forward, watching the numbers above the door illuminate one by one. His reflection in the polished brass was a stranger; a man with a too-tight jaw and eyes that were dark and turbulent.
He took another deliberate breath, willing the tight coil in his shoulders to unwind. He needed to get a grip. This was not the lesson he’d intended to teach tonight. This was not the controlled, guiding presence Samuel needed. This was something raw, something he hadn’t invited and didn’t welcome. He closed his eyes for a second, but all he saw was green eyes and a friendly smile.
The apartment door clicked shut, sealing them into the familiar, expansive silence of Gael’s home. He dropped his keys into the bronze dish on the console with a soft clatter.
He glanced over at Samuel, who stood just inside the door, his coat still on, his face a quiet mask of wariness. It was a mistake.
The look on his face merged instantly with the memory from the club. The hot, possessive fury, which had only been banked during the drive, roared back to life, white-hot and blinding. The last fragile thread of his control snapped.
He moved without thought. It was a physical compulsion, a silent roar in his veins that overrode all sense, all reason.
In two long strides he was across the foyer. His hands found Samuel’s shoulders, turning him and pressing him back against the front door. Samuel made a small, startled sound, half gasp, half whimper, that was instantly smothered as Gael’s body pinned him there, chest to chest, thigh to thigh.
“You are mine.”
The words were a low growl, rough and ragged, torn from a place deeper than reason.
Then his mouth was on Samuel’s.
His lips were hard, demanding, parting Samuel’s with a fierce urgency. The younger man froze for a single heartbeat, then melted. A soft, surrendering moan vibrated against Gael’s lips, a sound that fed the fire consuming him from the inside out. Samuel’s hands came up, fingers twisting into the soft wool of Gael’s sweater, clinging as if to a lifeline in a storm.
Gael kissed him harder, deeper, plundering his mouth with a frantic urgency. He pushed the heavy wool coat from Samuel’s shoulders, letting it slide down his arms to pool in a heap attheir feet. He broke the kiss, but only for a second, his breathing harsh. His gaze, dark and fever-bright, locked on Samuel’s flushed face before he grabbed the hem of his sweater and the thin shirt beneath it. In one rough motion, he yanked them both up and over Samuel’s head, tossing them aside.
Samuel’s bare chest was revealed, pale and smooth in the low entryway light. It rose and fell in quick, shallow breaths. Gael drank in the sight; the delicate collarbones, the flat planes of his stomach, the dusky pink of his nipples already pebbled tight.
Gael returned to his mouth, kissing him with a renewed fervor. At the same time, his hands went to his own clothes. He shoved his sweater up and off, fumbling with the buckle of his belt. The leather gave way; the button of his trousers popped open; the zipper rasped down. He pushed the fabric down just enough, the cool air of the apartment a fleeting shock against his heated skin, nothing compared to the furnace radiating from the body pressed against him.
He broke the kiss again, panting, his forehead resting against Samuel’s. Samuel’s eyes were wide, pupils blown black, his lips reddened and swollen and glistening.
Gael didn’t speak. He bent, sliding one arm behind Samuel’s knees, the other around the warm, bare skin of his back. With a grunt, he lifted him.
Samuel gasped, his arms looping instinctively around Gael’s neck. He carried him down the hall, past the shadowed living room, his own arousal a hard, insistent pressure against Samuel’s thigh. He shouldered his way into the darkness of the bedroom and laid him down on the black duvet.
