Page 21 of The Boss (Straight Men #2)

It didn’t take long for me and Zac to fall into a new kind of rhythm. A dangerous, reckless rhythm.

At work, he barely let a day pass without dragging me into his office, yanking down my slacks, and bending me over his desk, fucking me fast and rough with one hand over my mouth to keep me quiet. If the office was too risky, the gym showers sufficed—me pressed against the slick tiles, water streaming over us as he drove into me, biting my shoulder to stifle his groans. Now that he’d gotten a taste of my ass, my mouth alone wasn’t enough—he wanted to pound me constantly. And when we weren’t stealing quick, desperate moments, he took his time with me at home.

At my home. Never his.

And maybe that should have bothered me, but I was too caught up in the way he ravaged me every time he had me beneath him, spreading me open, owning my body like he had a right to it.

Tonight was no different.

Zac had fucked me hard, pushing me to my limits, making me sob into the mattress as he pounded me open, sweat-slicked and relentless, stretching me past the point of no return until I shattered, boneless and wrecked in his arms. Now, tangled together in my bed, the heat of our bodies fading into the sheets, he traced lazy fingers over my ribs, mapping the bruises he’d left behind like he was proud of it, like he relished marking me as his property.

“You know,” I murmured, head resting on his shoulder, “I just realized something. When you merge our names, you get Chris Isaac.”

He huffed a laugh. “Like the singer?”

“Yeah. Which means, it’s a wicked game we play.”

He smirked, fingers circling my nipple. “Are you saying… the world was on fire and no one could save me but you?”

I chuckled, rolling onto my side, facing him. “I’m saying, it’s strange what desire will make foolish people do.”

He was grinning, enjoying the tease, but there was an undercurrent of something serious in his expression. I felt it too, the deeper meaning I accidentally uncovered as I thought about another lyric from that song: No, I don’t wanna fall in love… with you .

The problem was, I already had.

I let out a slow breath, pressing closer, letting the weight of the realization settle over me. Somewhere between the stolen kisses, the frantic fucks, the way he looked at me when he thought I wasn’t watching, I had fallen. Hard. And there was no going back.

* * *

Rain drummed softly against the windows, a steady rhythm syncing with the low hum of the TV. The glow from the screen flickered over the couch, casting shifting light over Zac’s long limbs and the half-eaten takeout containers littering the coffee table. He was stretched out beside me, his head in my lap, our bodies tangled in that lazy, comfortable way we always seemed to end up after a good fucking session.

“By the way, I’m heading up to Maine next week,” I said, remembering the upcoming holiday.

Zac glanced up. “Spending Thanksgiving with your folks?”

“Yeah. My mom would lose it if I didn’t.” I smirked, stretching for a glass of water. “She’s already texting me every day, making sure I’m not backing out last minute.”

Zac made a low, thoughtful sound, tilting his head back against my leg. “Big family gathering?”

“Nah, just my parents, my siblings, and me.”

His gaze flicked to me. “I didn’t know you had siblings.”

“Yeah, I’m the oldest. Emily’s three years younger, and Josh is the baby. Well, not a baby anymore—he’s eighteen, but he’ll always be the kid I used to carry around on my shoulders.” I huffed a quiet laugh. “He followed me everywhere growing up. Wanted to be like me. Which is great, except now he’s convinced he wants to move to Providence for college because I’m here.”

Zac smiled. “That’s sweet.”

“Yeah. He’s awesome.” I reached for my drink again, taking a slow sip. “My parents are great too—high school sweethearts, still disgustingly in love after twenty-six years. Honestly, sometimes it’s nauseating.”

Zac let out a short chuckle, shaking his head. “And you’re out to your family?”

“Yeah, I came out just before my high school graduation. It wasn’t a big deal, really. I knew nothing would change. They still love me the same, and I love them.”

“Must be nice.”

Something about the way he said it made me glance at him. His tone was light, but his expression had shifted, his eyes growing distant.

I nudged his head with my thigh. “I just realized you’re closer in age to my parents than you are to me.”

Zac barked out a laugh, some of the tension breaking. “Jesus, thanks for that. Really needed the reminder.”

I grinned but didn’t let it distract me. “You never talk about your family,” I said after a pause. “What’s their deal?”

Zac hesitated, his fingers idly twirling his chopsticks against the rim of the takeout container. For a second, I thought he might brush it off. But then he sighed, setting the food aside.

“My mom was from London,” he said, voice low. “Came here for a visit, met my dad, and fell hard. Got married fast. And then I came along.”

I stayed quiet, watching him.

“For a while, I think they were happy,” he continued, staring at the ceiling. “At least, that’s what my mom always told me. But my dad—” He let out a humorless laugh. “Turns out, he liked other women too. A lot. And when I was old enough, I started noticing things. Long nights ‘at work.’ Lipstick on his shirts. My mom crying in the kitchen after she thought I’d gone to bed.” His throat worked, but he kept his voice steady. “Eventually, he left. Packed a bag one day and walked out. And then—” Zac swallowed hard. “Then my mom got sick.”

Something tightened in my chest.

“The doctors said leukemia,” he murmured, almost to himself. “But I always believed she died of a broken heart.” He blew out a heavy sigh, like he was trying to force the weight off his chest. “After that, I lived with my grandmother. My dad’s mom. She was the greatest woman who ever lived—loved me unconditionally. She passed a few years ago.”

I didn’t know what to say. So I didn’t say anything. I just curled my arm tighter around him, stroking his hair. For a long moment, Zac didn’t move. Then he let out a slow breath, sinking into me.

“What about your dad?” I asked softly. “Do you know what happened to him?”

Zac snorted. “Got remarried. New family, new life. He reached out a few times, but I never took his calls.” He shrugged, like it was no big deal, but the tension in his shoulders told a different story. “Last I heard, he lives somewhere in Virginia. That’s about all I care to know.”

I tightened my grip on him, my fingers pressing into the warmth of his temples. “Maybe he’s changed. Maybe he regrets the things he’s done.”

“I don’t give a flying fuck. It’s too late for forgiveness.”

“Sometimes we forgive, not for others, but for our own peace.”

Zac huffed, refusing to continue the subject. Then he sighed, tipping his head back to look at me. “See? You’ve got your Hallmark-perfect family, and I’ve got my family-sized trauma pack. We balance each other out.”

I tried to smirk, but it felt off. Instead, I only stared at him, my chest aching with feelings I was afraid to confess.

After a moment, Zac shifted, rising from my lap to press a slow, lingering kiss against my throat. I pulled him up until we were facing each other, eyes locked, breaths mingling. Then I leaned in and kissed him, slow, soft, just a slide of my lips over his. I love you , the kiss said. I love you so much .

Zac moved even closer and pulled me into a tight hug, pressing me into his chest.

The rain kept falling outside, soft and steady, and for a long time, we just stayed like that. Wrapped up in each other. No past, no future—only now.