"Call me tomorrow." Adam smiled. "It'll give you the jump on next week's competition."
Katherine looked startled but pleased, and Marco took another sip of champagne to keep from grinning too wide in front of so many cameras. So far their conversation was private, a polite bubble of space extending around them, but Marco could sense curious eyes watching them, waiting for a chance to interpose. This was, after all, a media event. And Katherine Price was far from the only reporter in attendance.
No one was guaranteed face time with Spinelli Medical Tech's two top dogs, though. Most of the interested guests were clustered on and around the far end of the stage, bothering Parson instead. They would get their interview slots during the coming week, and not before.
Marco made a concerted effort to avoid eye contact with anyone beyond Katherine and Adam, without looking like he was doing any such thing.
"You two have been making the gossip columns," Katherine said. Friendly warmth sparked in her eyes as she glanced at Marco, her smile teasing. "Do you know what they're saying?"
"No," Marco said simply. He never particularly cared what was said about him publicly; he knew how to be discreet, so no one ever got too close to any private truths.
"It never pays to listen to gossip," Adam added in a light tone. "The potential entertainment never really outweighs the negative."
"Oh, but this does." Katherine's voice dropped to a conspiratorial hush. "Scuttlebutt says you two are secretly a couple. Maybe even married. You're hiding your relationship from the shareholders, and are just waiting for the right moment to proclaim your feelings publicly."
Marco snorted a disbelieving sound. The idea that he and Adam might be involved in a secret dalliance was improbable at best, especially if one knew anything about Adam's sporadic relationships, or his refusal to mix business with pleasure. Besides, Marco was a handsome man with a healthy ego; he'd have noticed any invitation in those piercing eyes. He'd long since made his peace with the knowledge that Adam would never be more than a friend. Best friend, business partner, practically family, but nothing more complicated than that.
Setting aside all but the humor of what Katherine was suggesting, Marco turned to share his amusement with Adam. But instead of a smile, he found an unfamiliar expression on Adam's face. Pale skin flushed an awkward red, and Adam's unflappable composure broke into a look Marco couldn't read. Mortification, maybe. He'd never seen anything like it on Adam's face.
"Yes," Adam said, clearly trying to salvage something of the conversation. "That's very— It— Excuse me." Then he was gone, so abruptly Marco couldn't ask him what was wrong. Adam was there one instant, disappearing the next, expression blank as he cut a wake of polite confusion through the crowd.
Marco blinked after him for only a moment before turning to Katherine, smoothing the shock from his face by force of will.
"Oh dear," Katherine said quietly. Her brows lowered, eyes narrowing, face somber when Marco's attention returned to her. "That... wasn't what I expected. Did I offend him? I'd never have said it if I thought it would bother him."
"I don't know," Marco admitted. Adam liked his privacy, true, but they had both long since made peace with the inevitable public attention. "This isn't like him at all. He's not sensitive about that stuff. Why would he—?"
"Oh my God." Katherine inhaled sharply. "He wants you."
The revelation hit Marco hard in the chest, and it took him a moment to gather his wits. "Katherine, I'm so sorry," he said, "but I need to..."
"Yeah, I get it." The sympathetic look on her face told him he was free from his earlier offer. "Give me your drink. If you're going to follow him, better do it now."
"Please don't tell anyone about this." An unnecessary plea. Katherine didn't write for the gossip columns she read so shamelessly, and she would never put a friend in an awkward position. Marco gratefully handed over his unfinished champagne.
"Of course not," Katherine agreed easily. "Go."
Marco drew a steadying breath, then followed Adam's path through the crowd.
*~*~*
Despite the size of the SMT downtown office, there were only so many places Adam might retreat to. Marco headed straight for the top floor, impatient as the numbers dinged past on the fast-moving elevator. His thoughts spun with the information Adam had just unwillingly handed over, and he was surprised at the pulse of hope in his chest.
Twenty years in business with his best friend, stubbornly not pining for Adam, should have been enough to demolish the infatuation Marco had harbored when they were fresh out of school. Yet here he was, stepping off the elevator with his pulse speeding, praying he'd find Adam in the one place he would go if he was willing to talk.
The hallway was mostly dark, sporadic emergency lights providing a clear path but offering no real brightness. Only as he drew close did Marco see Adam's office door standing ajar. He paused, inhaled slowly, and stepped through.
There were no lights on in the office either, but Marco didn't mind. His eyes had adjusted to the dimness of the hall, and there was more than enough illumination sneaking through window panes that took up two entire walls. A full moon, a vivid cityscape, the fuzzy glow of light pollution.
Since the renovation, Adam's enormous office was even more posh than Marco's. The wide floor and high ceiling gave off a sense of power even Marco could feel. There were half a dozen potted ferns scattered throughout the room, shelves full of gorgeous book spines, a table large enough to seat ten guests, and expensive art on the two walls that weren't made entirely of windows. Adam's desk was roughly the size of Canada, and his chair was even more ostentatious, a plush monstrosity with a high back and flawless leather cushions. The decor had little to do with Adam's personal tastes, and everything to do with the need to impress visitors. It was over the top, but necessary, and Marco ignored the trappings as he locked the door quietly behind him.
Marco's gaze immediately found Adam, standing between the desk and the window, silhouetted against the cityscape outside. Adam was staring across the dark sky and lively city. The tense line of his shoulders warned Marco to tread cautiously.
Marco could do cautious. He approached the desk, quiet and slow.
"Adam?" He kept his tone as bland as he could manage, and was relieved when Adam's posture didn't go any tighter.
"I'm reasonably sure I don't owe you an explanation," Adam said. But he wasn't using the sharp, cool voice that meant back off. It was more like a returning volley, giving Marco a chance to keep the ball in play and decide the direction of the conversation.
Marco rounded the desk. Then, barely hesitating, he sat in the spacious chair and swiveled it so he could stare directly up at Adam's stern profile. He could easily touch Adam from this distance, but he leaned back in the chair and braced his elbows on the plush armrests instead, steepling his fingers in front of his chest.
His heart was pounding painfully fast, his pulse loud in his ears. A sharp spike of feeling, too much like hope, caught him confused and off guard. Marco forced himself to breathe. To wait. He couldn't show his cards when he had so little information. After years of concrete certainty that Adam didn't want him, he couldn't afford to jump to conclusions now.
But Adam wasn't talking. If Marco wanted answers, he needed to break through the guarded wall and ask the right questions.
He leaned back in the chair, trying to look casual. Easy. He'd never been great at bluffing, but he did his best to look like his heart wasn't trying to beat its way past his ribcage.
"So," Marco said conversationally, "you're into me. Why didn't you say something?"
Adam turned just his head to gawp down at Marco, incredulity stark across his face. "Say something?" he echoed with audible disbelief. "Why in God's name would I do that? You're not attracted to me. You've never been attracted to me. Hell, even if you—"
Maybe it was the fact that Adam was dead wrong, or maybe it was something more selfish, but Marco couldn't let him finish gathering momentum. He reach
ed for Adam, getting hold of his arm and using the leverage to pull him closer. Then, curling both hands around Adam's hips, Marco tugged him down into the chair.
Adam's eyes flew wide as he landed astride Marco's lap. Surprise, disbelief, a flash of warmth—all glinted in the silence as Adam stared at Marco, lips parted in wordless shock. Adam's hands seemed uncertain, gripping Marco's shoulders for balance and apparently unable to let go. His knees dug into Marco's hips and made the leather of the chair creak.
His weight across Marco's thighs was enough to short-circuit any higher brain function, but Marco still managed to draw a steadying breath and say, "God, you don't even know how many times I've thought about this."
They were almost of a height right now, Marco's advantage of several inches negated by Adam's current position. Adam's eyes fell closed at the curl of Marco's fingers around the nape of his neck, and a barely audible sigh escaped him.
Perfect stillness held between them, and Marco watched Adam closely, riveted by dark eyelashes and barely parted lips. Surprise tumbled alongside the want mounting beneath his skin, and he wondered how he could have missed this. He knew Adam so well—better than anyone else in his life—but somehow hadn't seen that the attraction between them simmered both ways. He wished he could read Adam's face amid the shadows, but something told him even daylight wouldn't help. He doubted his own senses after failing to notice such a fundamental truth.
He had taken Adam for granted. He'd taken their years-long friendship at face value when he could have been digging deeper. Now he knew better, and his body was a rush of desire and potential.
Marco wondered if this was a new understanding to Adam, or if Adam too had harbored fantasies for years, guarded even closer than Marco's own. He wondered what Adam was thinking now, what might be going on behind those closed and restless eyes. There was no sign of Adam's usual reserve. There was only the sweet thrill of anticipation twining intimately between them.
Stillness fell away, scattered by rising need, and Marco tugged Adam the last of the short distance toward him.
Their first kiss started light and cautious, but it didn't stay that way. How could Marco be expected to hold back when Adam responded instantly, coming alive beneath his hands, lips parting like an invitation? Of course Marco responded in kind. He tugged Adam tighter against him, relishing the easy way Adam complied with the smallest suggestion in Marco's touch.
Adam's perfect hair was every bit as soft as it looked, and his mouth was eager and restless. His hands had lost any trace of uncertainty. They gripped Marco possessively, framing his face, then slipped and shifted as Adam snuck one arm across Marco's shoulders.
Fucking hell, why had they never done this before?
When they broke apart, Marco needed a moment to collect himself. He kept his eyes closed and drew a steadying breath, the warm sensations in his chest nearly overwhelming him. The reality of Adam in his arms was even better than the idle fantasies Marco had indulged through the years.
He opened his eyes and found Adam watching him—staring him down, expression perplexed. Confusion cut a deep crease between Adam's narrow eyebrows. He was peering at Marco like a puzzle to be solved.
Marco held his tongue. He knew Adam too well to try and interrupt the thoughts whirling through his head.
"I don't understand," Adam admitted at last. "You're interested in women."
"And men."
"But... You married a woman."
"Yes." Marco felt a furrow forming between his own thick brows. "Because I'm interested in men and women. I'm pretty sure it's illegal to marry both at the same time." Besides, when Marco opted for monogamy, he was monogamous, and Zoe had never been the type to share what was hers.
For an awkward moment, Marco worried he might have stumbled into an argument about the ins-and-outs of bisexuality. It wasn't a conversation he'd ever anticipated needing to have with Adam, and he would be disappointed as hell if it came down to this now.
But a moment later, Adam's forehead smoothed. "I've never known you to sleep with men. You and Zoe have been divorced seven years and you never said a word."
"Adam." Marco tried his damnedest not to sound exasperated. "When have I ever talked about anyone I'm sleeping with?" Except for Zoe, of course. Marco had married her; of course, he told Adam about that relationship eventually.
"You—" Adam started, but paused, clearly thinking the question through. Marco could practically see the analysis playing out behind his eyes, the memories of a years-long friendship, and the faulty conclusions along the way. "Never," Adam conceded at last.
Because yes, Marco had plenty of casual sex, but he believed in absolute discretion. If he couldn't protect the privacy of his partners—especially the people he connected with over and over again—he had no business fucking them in the first place. Even if he weren't something of a public figure, it wasn't his place to discuss other people's sex lives.
Not even with his best friend.
Marco swallowed back a twinge of regret. "If this is going to be a problem—"
"No," Adam interrupted with heartening speed. "It's fine. You just... caught me off guard."
Then Adam kissed him, fast and deep and filthy. Marco breathed a pleased sound and opened for the exploring thrust of Adam's tongue. He felt lightheaded, dizzy with the weight of Adam in his lap, greedy for the press of that demanding mouth.
It was all he could do not to groan with disapproval when Adam finally drew back.
Sturdy as the chair was, it still creaked when Adam twisted out of his tux jacket and threw the garment to the floor. It would have been easier to let him stand up and strip down, but Marco wasn't ready to let go just yet.
His fingers felt clumsy at the knot of Adam's bow tie, but a moment later, Adam's fingers were working at Marco's throat too, both men fumbling fabric out of the way and scrambling at shirt buttons. Adam's cummerbund was more of a challenge—undoing the fastenings by touch was almost more focus than Marco could spare from Adam's mouth and wandering hands. By the time he managed to work the strap loose, he was feeling damnably clever for leaving his own cummerbund at home.
Marco drew back from the kiss to watch Adam shrug his white shirt to the floor, leaving him naked from the waist up and absolutely gorgeous. A deep flush had spread from Adam's face down his throat, across his chest. His narrow shoulders trembled. His usually perfect hair was a tousled mess from Marco's fingers, his expression winded and cloudy with arousal.
He looked like heaven.
Marco's own shirt was unbuttoned thanks to Adam's efforts, and when their kiss rekindled, Marco's pulse skyrocketed at the pure heat of skin against skin. He reached for Adam's fly, desperate to touch. Adam was hard, and Marco ignored his own aching need in favor of more urgent matters. Like sliding his hand beneath the waistband of Adam's expensive briefs. Like the silky-smooth sensation of Adam's cock as Marco drew him into the open air.
Quick as that the kiss broke again. Adam's head fell back, and his wild moan sent pleasant chills along Marco's spine. The involuntary gesture bared Adam's neck, offering up miles of enticing skin. Raw need urged Marco forward—he wanted to taste, mark, claim—and he found Adam's pulse point with his mouth. A hard kiss became a tentative bite, and the sting of teeth made Adam buck forward into the circle of stroking fingers. Marco soothed the spot with his tongue before kissing his way higher to mark a place just below Adam's jaw.
"Please." Adam's voice was barely there, a needy echo in the quiet office.
Marco stroked him deliberately, ignoring the plea for release. He took his time getting to know the feel of Adam's cock in his hand, enjoying how responsive Adam was. Every touch drew an answer from Adam's body, leaving him restless in Marco's lap, hips rocking with the need to come. Marco's own erection was maddening pressure against the seam of his dress pants, but he didn't care. He had Adam beneath his hands, frantic and perfect, and he didn't mind at all that Adam was too busy clinging to his shoulders to return the favor in kind.
When Marco sensed the precipice looming close, he stopped. His fingers tightened at the base of Adam's cock, fending off the orgasm Adam had surely been expecting. Adam's groan was a shuddering, agonized sound that went straight to Marco's dick. A moment later, Adam curled forward against him, forehead pressing helplessly to the juncture of neck and shoulder. Clinging hard. Shaking as Marco let go of him.
"I want to fuck you." Marco's voice sounded like gravel in the overheated stillness.
Adam shivered, fingers clenching in the rumpled fabric of Marco's shirt. "Yes. I want— I don't have—"
The words were enough for Marco to decipher their meaning—it wasn't as though Adam kept supplies for a tryst in some secret drawer of his desk—and Marco drew a shuddering breath of his own.
"I do."
Adam drew back with visible difficulty. He blinked lust-clouded eyes as Marco produced the condom from the tux jacket he was still half wearing.
One of Adam's elegant eyebrows rose, and Marco was genuinely impressed at the wry look Adam managed to level at him despite his state of wild, winded disarray. "Since when are you prescient?" Adam asked.
Marco's teeth flashed. He refused to feel sheepish about coming prepared, even if he had been angling for a different prize when he first slipped the condom into his pocket. "Are you complaining?"
A moment's pause, a brief but fierce scrutiny, before Adam shook his head. "No. I'm not." Then he extricated himself from Marco's lap.
Marco barely noticed the sudden feel of cool air. All his attention was for Adam, unbreakable eye contact between them as Adam stepped back toward the edge of the desk. Then, tauntingly slow, Adam turned and bent forward, bracing his elbows on smooth mahogany.
A choked sound escaped Marco's throat, and he was on his feet in an instant, closing the distance. He shrugged out of his own coat and shirt, leaving them crumpled on the chair behind him.
It was a damn good thing Adam kept a meticulous workspace. Marco doubted he would appreciate being fucked on top of the memos and schematics and pens that tended to accumulate across Marco's desk.
Matters of Heart Page 2