Page 8 of His Boss for Christmas
“Bull. Shit.” Justin leaned into his personal space, his eyes boring into Peter’s. “I know you, Peter. Maybe you don’t consider me a friend, but I know you better than anyone else does. You like being the most important thing in my life. I’m not sure why you like it, but you do. Maybe it’s just an ego thing, but you like it. You actively discourage me from having friends in the office—”
“That’s not true,” Peter said with a scoff.
“It is. You never let me have lunch with the other associates—”
Peter sneered. “I didn’t know it was such a hardship for you to eat with me in high-end restaurants. If you preferred eating fast food with the other associates, you should have said something.”
Justin gave him a bitter smile. “That’s the thing,” he said quietly. “I don’t. You’ve trained me into preferring your company to anyone else’s.”
“And that’s a bad thing?”
“It is, when you treat me like a thing you own but don’t like. You treat me like a pet you keep on a leash and don’t want to share but refuse to pet yourself.”
“You want me to pet you?”
Justin flushed bright red and scowled at him. “You know what I mean,” he muttered, not quite meeting his eyes.
Peter smiled, amused and fascinated by his embarrassment. “Are you saying that if Ipetyou, you’ll give up on your soulmate?”
Justin glared, something uncertain about his expression, before dropping his gaze. “Don’t joke about it, Peter. Please.”
What?
Placing his hand on Justin’s chin, Peter tipped his face up and studied it, his amusement gone.
“You will,” he said slowly, his stomach clenching. “You will actually give up on your soulmate for me.” The mere thought was… Fuck, it was heady.
Christ, what was wrong with him? Why did the idea of having such power—completely unprofessional, inappropriate power—over his associate made him exhilarated, as if he was on the verge of closing a multi-million-dollar deal? Was the boy actually correct and Peter liked being the center of his life? The thought was disturbing on several levels.
But not enough to stop him from pushing. Not enough to suppress the need to know.
“Admit it,” Peter ordered.
Justin laughed a little. “Wow, you’re actually as cruel as people think you are.”
Peter pressed his thumb against the corner of Justin’s mouth. Justin didn’t seem to be breathing at all.
“Admit it,” Peter repeated, more quietly.
Justin sucked in a breath, his pupils blown wide. He gave a shaky laugh. “I’m not sure what your purpose is. To humiliate me? If it is, congrats—I’m sufficiently humiliated.”
“Just say it, Justin.” Peter looked him in the eyes steadily. “Do you want me?”
Justin’s throat worked. “Everyone wants you, and you know it, you smug dick.”
“Objection,” Peter said, allowing a tiny smile to curl his lips. “The question was addressed to you, not everyone.”
“The objection is irrelevant because the answer is the same, regardless of who it’s addressed to.” Justin glowered at him, his face red. “Happy now? Now stop groping me. I’m already thoroughly humiliated.”
“I’m holding your chin. It’s hardly groping.”
Justin scoffed. “You might as well be holding my dick, Peter. The effect is the same. Let go.”
Peter didn’t let go. He was well aware that he should, that he was edging closer and closer to sexual harassment territory—which was something he was normally very responsible about—but he couldn’t seem to stop now. He shifted his grip, turning it into a caress of Justin’s cheek, perversely enjoying the shiver it elicited. “Look at you. If your soulmate walked into this roomright now, you wouldn’t even look at them. You wouldn’t care. All you’d see is me.”Me, me, mine.
“God, I fucking hate you right now,” Justin breathed out, his eyelids growing heavy as he turned his head and nuzzled into Peter’s hand like a touch-starved thing.
Watching him, transfixed, Peter pressed his thumb against Justin’s lips. They parted, soft and wet, sucking his thumb in, and Peter nearly groaned, arousal making him lightheaded. He burned to replace his thumb with his cock.