Michael held him through it and continued to stroke him until he was utterly spent. Then he kissed Sam's shoulder and murmured, "Want me to pull out and come on your skin?"
Sam should have said yes, because he was just so sensitive. But he frantically shook his head and lifted an uncoordinated arm to grab on to Michael.
"Come in me."
Michael took him at his word... or maybe at his thought. But he needed Michael inside.
It didn't take more than a few hard thrusts and a perfectly timed squeeze from Sam, and then Michael came. He let out a long, low groan and emptied himself inside Sam. And Sam reveled in the connection, the feeling, and loved every second.
The lay together in the quiet as they returned to themselves. Michael didn't pull out, and even though Sam was overly sensitive and more than a little tender, he wanted Michael right where he was.
"Me too. I'd stay inside you all the time if I could."
Sam chuckled and patted Michael's arm when he wrapped it around Sam's chest.
"Holy crap. That was the most intense thing I've ever experienced." Sam let out another small laugh and then turned his head. Michael's mouth was right there, so he gave him a sloppy kiss and then collapsed back into Michael's arms. "What was that?"
"I don't know." Michael made a thoughtful humming sound and held Sam even tighter. "I've never heard of a telepath being able to project their thoughts."
Sam traced the veins in Michael's forearm. Quietly he said, "Blake and Derek can sense each other's emotions."
Michael went still and barely even breathed. His dick chose that moment to soften enough to slide out of Sam's ass, but he didn't seem to care. Sam's heart pounded, and not from their recent exertion.
"We can't bond, sweetheart." Michael's tone was soft and careful. "It's impossible because of who I am--what I am."
"No, I know." Sam bit his lip and let it go. "But what if this is something else?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean...." Sam blew out a breath and tried to find the right words to explain the jumble of thoughts in his head. "We've clearly made a connection, right? A real and deep connection."
"Yes," Michael readily agreed.
"So what if I can hear you because of that?"
"Sam, I don't think--"
Sam pulled out of Michael's arms and flipped over so they faced one another. He traced Michael's eyebrow with one finger and then traced his nose and his lips. God, he loved Michael's face.
"Hear me out." Sam waited for Michael's slow nod, and then he continued. "Your mental shields were down, right? I could tell because of how... upset you were. So what if you were projecting, and because of our connection, I could hear those thoughts. It's not an anchor bond but something different. When you tried on purpose, I heard you, clear as day."
Michael's brow creased, and Sam let him think. He wanted to prove his case, but he didn't know how to make Michael see what made perfect sense to him. Even if he told Michael to read him, he'd only get the tangled thoughts in Sam's head, and that was no better than not being able to articulate them.
"I suppose it's theoretically possible," Michael mused.
Sam brightened and gave him a grin and then a kiss. He hadn't been sure Michael would even entertain the idea, and it meant the world to him that he not only entertained it, but he put stock in what Sam said.
"You could test it. On someone else. See if you can make them hear you if you drop your mental shields."
"Maybe." Michael grinned and rolled them so he pressed Sam into the mattress. "But right now, you're all I care about."
"Mmmm. I like that."
Michael kissed him easily and sensually, and then he pulled back. Sam stared into Michael's eyes and saw the warmth and affection there--and love, though he was sure Michael wasn't ready to admit it. That was fine. Sam knew it would come in time.
"This week was awful," Michael admitted. "Being apart when you're right there is ten times worse than I ever imagined."
"But if it's what we need to do, then it's what we'll do. We'll make this work, Michael."
"It's the only solution we have at the moment. But I swear to you I will figure something out. I won't let you go."
That was the best thing Sam ever heard. He wrapped himself around Michael and held on for dear life. Nothing had been resolved, but Sam felt better about where they were than he had in a long time, and he knew they'd find a solution. They just had to keep working at it.
"Are you staying?" Sam murmured the question and kissed Michael before he could answer, because he was a little afraid Michael would say no. But he shouldn't have worried.
"Of course I am. We have plans tomorrow, don't we?"
Sam chuckled and pushed at Michael so he would get off him. Once Michael was settled on his back, Sam laid his head on his chest, wrapped an arm around his waist, and tucked one leg between Michael's. They were sticky and messy, but Sam didn't care. He just wanted the moment to last forever.
He knew that wasn't possible, but he'd make it last as long as he could.
Chapter Eighteen
AFTER a weekend as good as the one he'd just had, it was almost a shock to go back to work. Michael had put everything aside but Sam, and getting to focus solely on Sam had made him feel complete. But he had to let that go late last night to go home to his empty house and try to get into a work frame of mind.
It wasn't easy, and Michael wasn't entirely sure he had succeeded.
When he stepped into the sixth-floor lobby, Julie was at her desk, typing away, but she paused to give him a warm greeting and a happy smile. He returned the greeting and stopped for a moment to chat.
"How was your weekend, Julie?"
"Wonderful." She pulled a face and wrinkled her nose. "Family stuff. So wonderful and also crazy."
Michael chuckled. "Yeah, I hear you."
"Did you have a nice weekend, Mr. King?" Her eyes twinkled, so he was pretty sure she knew who he'd spent his weekend with.
"I did. Thank you." Michael took the messages she handed him and turned to step around her desk, but when a sudden thought struck him, and he paused.
When he and Sam were out shopping, Michael had tried to test Sam's theory by sending random thoughts out at strangers they passed. Not a single one of them reacted in any recognizable way, and since some of his thoughts had been deliberately lewd or extreme, he thought it was pretty safe that no one had heard him.
But he had a friendship with Julie, a relationship born of long years working together. Maybe Sam's idea was right, and it was because of their connection that Sam was able to hear him. Was it only Sam? Or did any kind of relationship work?
Michael braced himself and dropped his mental shields. Julie had an old country duet stuck in her head, and the chorus ran on a loop. He fought a smile. If her real singing voice was anything like the one in her head, it was probably a good thing she was an outstanding administrative assistant.
I'm going to give you a raise.
The song never stopped, and Julie's attention remained fixed on her computer screen. Her fingers flew over the keys, and her eyes darted back and forth. With every number she entered into the column on the left, she mentally sang another line of the song. Finally she moved past the chorus.
Suddenly she slowed, and Michael held his breath.
"Is there a reason you're standing there like a creeper, Mr. King?"
Michael chuckled and shook his head. "Just got lost in thought."
"Dangerous territory." Julie shot a smile at him and turned back to her work. Michael left her to it, and walked into his office.
He was going to get her a raise anyway.
Michael settled into his chair, turned on his tablet, and sorted through the messages Julie had pulled off the voicemail. Some of it was the usual stuff--things he'd hand back to Julie with directions to follow up. But one in particular caught his eye, and he let the rest fall to the desk.
Director Lawrence requests a return call ASAP.
/> Shit. Michael didn't want to deal with that. If she was calling instead of sending yet another email, Michael knew it couldn't be good. He wanted to ignore it, just to throw his weight around, but he knew he wouldn't. He wasn't a petulant brat, and he didn't hide from his problems.
He hit the intercom button. "Julie, please get Jeanine Lawrence on the phone."
"Right away, Mr. King."
He steeled himself for the conversation that was about to happen and picked up as soon as Julie put the call through.
"Director Lawrence, what can I do for you?"
Her throaty laugh was a welcome sound. "No need to stand on formality, Michael. We've known each other too long for that."
It was true. They had. But knowing what was coming, Michael felt it better to secure himself behind a modicum of respect. Not that he didn't respect the Director, but he wasn't happy, and she had to know it.
"Fine. Jeanine. What's up?"
"You know what's up," she said pleasantly. "We want to put a training program in place at the Duncan Moor branch."
By sheer will he refrained from sighing. "And I have explained, in painstaking detail, exactly why that's not a good idea. The town isn't big enough to support a rotating influx of visitors--"
"It'll grow."
"This office runs like a well-oiled machine. Constant disruptions will only impede our outstanding success record. My operatives don't have the time, or in most cases, the inclination to assist trainees. This sort of thing is best suited to the bigger offices, which is why they've always been there."
Jeanine hummed. "Are you done?"
"Not remotely. I don't want it. If we're getting specific about time or inclination, I certainly have neither. And believe me when I say I know what's best for this office. That's the reason you put me here in the first place."
Silence stretched between them, and Michael fought the urge to go on. There was more he could say, but it would be getting into the petty, inconsequential things. He'd laid out the important facts, and pushing more would make him sound ridiculous.
"It's happening, Michael," Jeanine said softly. "Which is why I requested to be the one who informed you. The board has voted, and their decision is absolute. As valid as your arguments are--and they are valid--it's a done deal."
Michael blew out an explosive breath. He really hadn't thought it would happen. "Jeanine, who do I need to talk to?"
"There's no one. Like I said, it's done. They're going forward with the plans and have already contacted the town supervisor for permission to build a dorm. The seventh floor will be converted from conference hall to training rooms." She sighed, and Michael knew she didn't like being the bearer of bad news. "But you'll be happy to know I've negotiated some terms that will make things easier on you."
"And they are?" he ground out.
"Do you know Renata Johnson?"
"Yes." Just in passing, but he'd met her a few times. She was a Guardian with skills almost as good as his own.
"She's being offered the position of training supervisor. She'll be in charge of the trainees and teaching staff. So that'll be one thing off your plate." Jeanine hummed again. "I've also made sure that the program will only be for ghostwalker/anchor pairs who are in the last stages of training. The board had been talking about making it a full facility, but I shot that down. No newbies for your office."
The last email had said as much, but Michael was glad to hear it confirmed. Still he grumbled. "Small comfort."
Jeanine ignored him. "Shona Walters is a good candidate to lead the medium portion of the program. We would like to offer her that position."
Michael blinked. The decision was inspired, and he agreed Shona was a good choice. He also knew she'd be open to it. They'd discussed it, once upon a time. The only reason she hadn't actively pursued a promotion was because she liked where she was and liked working for Michael.
"And we're in talks with Avery Wagner to come and guest lecture."
That got Michael's back up. "No."
"What? Why?"
"He won't do it, Jeanine. He doesn't ghostwalk anymore. And I can't blame him. I would never ask him to do it."
"Neither are we. Michael, we know how much it affected him, losing his bonded to cancer. We would never put him in that position."
"But you did. He told me about the email."
"That wasn't me, and it was sent without my input. I have disabused others of the notion. He will not be asked to ghostwalk." She took a breath. "But having him come in every couple of weeks and lecture is something different. He can maintain his home in New Jersey and visit only when his services are required."
"I don't think--"
"He does it for us now upon occasion, yes?"
Michael had to admit that he did.
"This is no different, other than the schedule being fixed and his expertise needed a bit more often." Jeanine lowered her voice. "He's open to it. I've discussed this with him directly, and he's considering it."
Well, at least if Avery were here, Michael could keep an eye on him and make sure he was taking care of himself. And he had sounded better the last time they talked. He blew out a breath and rubbed his eyes with a thumb and finger.
"There's nothing I can do to stop this, is there?"
"No." And Jeanine sounded truly sorry. "But we will make this as painless for you and your operatives as possible. And this is a good thing."
Michael scowled. "How do you figure?"
"Your operatives are some of the best we have in the entirety of Requiem Inc. Imagine passing that knowledge on. Your operatives won't have to do anything differently, not really. But being in their presence will help our trainees, especially if some of them agree to let trainees observe. It won't be a requirement. We wouldn't do that to them. But if they volunteer, it will be welcome."
Michael could understand that. His operatives were the best, and they'd worked hard to get there. Michael had heard horror stories passed around at conferences, of operatives who weren't as dedicated and determined as his own.
"You may have a point there."
She let out a laugh. "Of course I do. Now it's just the matter of assigning trainers."
"You aren't taking from my team." Michael needed to make that clear.
"No. We have a list of operatives who'll be well suited and who have expressed an interest. Renata has the list now, but she'll be in contact with you." Jeanine chuckled again. "She's actually anxious to do so, as your reputation has preceded you. While the two of you will be operating different programs, you'll have to work together and lead together. Try not to scare her away, all right?"
"I'm not scary," he grumbled, but it was good-natured. He knew when he was being teased, and he could take it just fine.
"You aren't. But don't make things difficult either. You need to support each other, yes?"
"Yes, ma'am."
Jeanine gave a full-throated laugh that made him smile in return. "I'll forward all the information to you as soon as we hang up. In the meantime do you have any other questions for me?"
"You're sure I can't stop this?"
"I'm sure." She sounded indulgent.
"Then I only have the one. When can I announce?"
LATER that afternoon Michael had everyone assemble in the seldom-used conference hall on the seventh floor. He looked out at the sea of faces--operatives, IT, and admin staff alike--more than a hundred people. Each one of them looked to him for direction, but no one made a noise, despite the announcement he'd just made.
"It's out of my control, and I'll be completely honest with you all and say that I didn't want this. But I expect every one of you to represent this branch to the best of your ability. Hopefully it won't disrupt things too much. I know we can make it work."
A murmur of voices, but no one said anything directly to him. He waited and let the noise die back down. "Does anyone have any questions?"
"When is this happening?" shouted a voice. He thought it was one of the IT guys.
"I don't have exact details yet, but soon. Building is scheduled to commence within a couple of months. I'll keep you all updated. As soon as I know anything, you will too." He looked around the room. "Anything else?"
No one seemed to have anything, so he let them all go back to work or home, whichever the case. He stayed where he was until everyone filed out, talking about the training program and how it would affect them. The jumble of thoughts was almost too much, so he made sure to keep a tight rein on his shields to block them out.
In a few minutes, there was only one person whose thoughts tickled at his brain. Sam was still sitting in the front row, his eyes boring holes into him. With a shaky smile, Michael approached and lowered himself into the seat next to him.
"You okay?" Sam murmured. He lifted a hand and then dropped it as though he remembered they were at work. Michael hated the hesitancy, so he reached out and grabbed Sam's hand.
"Yeah. Director Lawrence exerted her influence to make this as painless as possible. I don't have a choice, so I need to make do."
Sam nodded. "I know you've been fighting against this for a while now."
"I have, but another Guardian will be in charge of the program, like I said. So I only have to keep worrying about my operatives. Only have to kill my own ghostwalkers."
Michael's brain stuttered to a stop as a new idea suddenly took root. Would it work? Would it be possible? He studied Sam as he played with Michael's fingers.
"Hey, listen. I want to talk to you about something. But it's not the time or place. How about you come over to my place tonight?"
"On a weeknight?" Sam gasped playfully, and Michael grinned.
"I'll make you manicotti."
Sam's eyes widened. "That's my favorite."
"I know." Michael stole a quick kiss. "So, later?"
"Yeah. Sure. I'll be there."
"Thank you." He stood and pulled Sam up with him. Then he gave Sam a nudge toward the door to get him moving.
Michael needed to think.
Chapter Nineteen
SAM had been to Michael's house once before. Michael had hosted a party in honor of Katy's retirement. He hadn't taken in much of it at the time. He was too busy consoling his brother on the loss of the anchor he'd had for years. Sam spent the whole time reminding Blake that he needed to be happy for Katy, or at least pretend to be. So, much of the party--and Michael's house--was a hazy memory.
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