...“That’s gonna kill you, you know.” Mark stepped out into the brisk November sunshine, trying to ignore the tug of desire the man’s broad, leather-clad back pulled from him. Nolan was taking his fifteen-minute break out on the long side veranda of the building, which was used most of the year for the senior citizens to enjoy the afternoon sun.

Nolan turned toward Mark and blew out a long stream of smoke, clasping his cigarette between thumb and forefinger like it was a joint. “Yeah, well. We all gotta go somehow. Anyway, I don’t smoke much. Maybe one or two a day. It’s just a way to relax.”

Mark bit back the lecture that rose to his lips about nicotine and addiction. He moved to stand beside Nolan, staring out at the leafless trees that surrounded the property. Their branches were outlined in gold from the sun against a vividly blue autumn sky.

Nolan took a last drag of his cigarette and flicked it over the railing. He shifted, moving closer to Mark until their shoulders were nearly touching. Mark recalled the wet dream he’d had the night before, which featured Nolan in the starring role.

Mark couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually come while dreaming. In his dream Nolan was lying naked beneath him on his back, his legs up over Mark’s shoulders as Mark eased his way into the hot clench of Nolan’s passageway. The dream had been so vivid he could actually smell Nolan’s warm, musky scent—a hint of vanilla mixed with the heady scent of their mingled sweat. He could feel the grip of Nolan’s muscles massaging his cock as he moved, slowly at first and then with more intensity, even ferocity. Nolan moaned and writhed beneath him, his clear brown eyes focused on Mark’s face, his lips parted, Mark’s name on his tongue. When Mark came in the dream, he came in real life as well, waking himself in the process.

As they stood quietly at the railing, Mark realized something had shifted between them in these final weeks. The antagonism between them had eased. He’d forgiven Nolan for his stunt that first day, regretting most of all the distance it had put between them as a result.

Mark’s cock twitched at the memory of the dream and Nolan’s proximity, but instead of moving away, he held his ground, leaning slightly toward the other man. Mark’s hands were resting lightly on the railing. Both men were looking out at the trees. Mark wondered if Nolan felt the static of electric desire crackling in the air between them.

Mark’s pager buzzed. He put his hand in his pocket to deactivate it but didn’t pull it out to read the message. He knew he should go back inside, but he stayed rooted to the spot, silently willing Nolan to turn toward him, to part his lips for a long, lingering kiss.

As if he sensed Mark’s unspoken wish, Nolan did turn his head, his deep brown eyes fixed suddenly on Mark’s face. Mark caught his breath, surprised at the raw desire that flashed over Nolan’s features.

He wants me, too.

In that moment he knew it. There was no reason for Nolan to pretend. He was nearly done with his community service so it was no longer about trying to get out of his hours. Not that Mark fooled himself Nolan wanted anything more than a quick toss between the sheets. Would that be enough?

Maybe it was exactly enough. A quick, impersonal fuck. A way to get Nolan out of his mind and out of his dreams. That had a way of happening—once he finally got the object of his desire, the object lost the allure it once had. Yes, this was the perfect way to get over Nolan once and for all. He’d say something. Suggest they meet after work. See where it led.

What was he thinking? Nolan stilled worked there. He was still, technically speaking, Mark’s employee. On the other hand, once Nolan was done with his hours, he’d never see him again. He had to seize the moment. It was now or never.

Adrenaline coursed through his gut and his mouth was suddenly dry. Though it was cold outside, he felt a prickle of perspiration in his armpits and his cock was hard with anticipation. The words slid through his head in a silent rehearsal.

If you’re not busy tonight, maybe we could go out for a drink…

He opened his mouth to speak but someone beat him to it. “There you are, Dr. H. Mr. Stratton from the insurance company is waiting in your office.” Janet stood at the sliding glass door. “I paged you.” Her voice carried more than a hint of reproach and she tapped her foot impatiently.

Mark bit his tongue to keep from screaming. He was sick of being dogged by that woman, always thrusting papers at him to sign or reminding him of the many appointments and thousands of things he had to get done that day. Why was he still in this job that left him exhausted and miserable at the end of each day?