Page 5 of The Boss (Straight Men #2)

It had been a week since my first shift in the wage cage, and with October settling into its crisp, golden rhythm, I was finally starting to feel like I belonged. The first few days had been a whirlwind—getting my bearings, figuring out office dynamics, learning the ins and outs of my responsibilities. But by now, I’d settled into a rhythm. I’d even put together a whole new wardrobe, several pairs of affordable suits for more casual occasions, when the one I got from Isaac felt like too much. The people in my department were cool enough; I’d already gotten friendly with a few of them, especially Darren, grabbing lunch together or exchanging memes on Slack when the workday got slow. My workload was manageable, and I liked what I was doing. It was a good job. A real one.

The only thing missing, oddly enough, was Isaac himself.

After our trip to the tailor, I hadn’t seen much of him. His office was up in the executive suites, well above my floor, and since he was technically my boss’s boss’s boss, his direct involvement in my work was minimal. A part of me—one I wasn’t quite ready to admit—felt disappointed. Not that I wanted him breathing down my neck, but I’d liked talking to him. Liked the way his presence commanded attention without him even trying. And, yeah, I liked looking at him.

That was why, when I stepped into the elevator that morning and saw him inside, I felt a jolt of something sharp and electric shoot through me.

A bunch of people entered the elevator with me, bodies shifting to make room as I squeezed in. I barely had time to mutter a quick, “Morning,” before the doors slid shut.

Zac gave me a nod. “Morning, Landry.” His voice was low, rumbling. He looked… tense. He was dressed as sharply as ever, dark suit crisp, his white dress shirt unbuttoned just enough to hint at the strong column of his throat, his shoulders filling up the tight space. He had that look about him—like he’d already been up for hours, busy making powerful decisions before I’d even rolled out of bed.

I had only a few seconds to take him in before the elevator lurched upward. As I turned away in the packed space, my back now to him, I still felt his presence like a furnace behind me, radiating heat that seared my spine. Someone beside me jostled forward, forcing me to draw back—right into Isaac.

My ass pressed against his crotch.

Heat shot through me so fast it made me dizzy. I went stiff all over, willing my body not to react, not to acknowledge the firm, solid presence of him behind me. But fuck, I felt him. The bulk of him. And my brain short-circuited.

When I tried shifting left or right, it only made things worse, because then my ass kept brushing against him. I forced myself to move forward as much as I could in the confined space, throat tight. If Isaac noticed, he didn’t react. Instead, he let out a short, irritated exhale that sent a prickle down my spine.

“Hard day?” I asked, instantly regretting my choice of words.

“My PA went on maternity leave,” he muttered, his lips just above my ear.

I latched onto the change of subject, desperate for a distraction. “Melissa, right?”

“Yeah.” I could hear his jaw working. “She’s been with me for nine years. Knows everything before I even have to ask. And now, I’m stuck without her.”

I glanced at him over my shoulder. “They didn’t get you a temp?”

“They did. Some guy named Greg. Doesn’t know a damn thing.”

I smirked. “So, you’re basically helpless.”

His mouth quirked, but his frustration didn’t ease. “Let’s just say I don’t have time to babysit.”

The elevator dinged. My floor. I dug my way through the crowd and stepped out, forcing myself not to look back.

“See you around, Zac.”

“See you, Landry.”

I didn’t turn, but I felt his gaze on my back as the doors slid shut.

* * *

That evening, after work, I made my way down to the company gym, figuring I’d put in a quick workout before heading home. It was convenient and I was finally getting back into my routine of daily lifting sessions. The gym was spacious and modern, the kind of high-end fitness center you’d expect from a company like Nova. It was mostly empty this time of day, just a few people scattered around, but the moment I stepped in, my eyes landed on him.

Zac.

He stood at the weight rack, loading plates onto a barbell, wearing a loose gray stringer that showed off his broad, muscular torso and massive arms. His black shorts hung low on his hips, showcasing powerful thighs. A sheen of sweat clung to his skin.

I swallowed hard.

He spotted me and took his earbuds out. “Landry.”

“Hey.” I tried to sound casual, like I hadn’t just been standing there, gawking. “I thought you said you work out in the mornings?” I asked, stepping over.

He sighed, low and measured. “I usually do.” He finished setting up his weights, then rolled his shoulders. “Needed to blow off some steam.”

“I hear that.” When he offered no further explanation, I looked around, trying to think of something to say. “So, what’s your workout playlist?”

He glanced at me, then pulled his phone from his shorts and smirked as he showed me the screen—Queen’s Greatest Hits.

“Should’ve guessed,” I said, chuckling.

Sliding the phone back into his pocket, he jerked his chin toward the bench press. “You lifting?”

I lifted a shoulder. “That was the plan.”

“Good. You can spot me.”

So I did. I stood behind his head as he lay back on the bench, watching as he gripped the bar, muscles flexing as he pushed through each rep with perfect form. The weights were heavy—heavier than I could handle—but he made it look effortless. The man was as strong as an ox.

When he finished his set, we switched. I slid onto the bench, and Zac stood over me, hands hovering beneath the bar as I lifted, his crotch above my head. His closeness was… distracting. The way he loomed, the heat of him, the faint scent of his sweat mixed with cologne. It took everything in me to focus on the exercise instead of trying to sneak a peek up his shorts.

We worked out together for an hour, and by the end of it, my body was wrecked. I could barely keep up with him, but I liked the challenge. Liked the way he pushed me.

“Sauna?” he asked on the way to the locker room.

“Sure,” I said, trying not to sound too eager.

* * *

The sauna was dimly lit, the air thick with steam, pressing down on my skin like a weighted blanket. The heat seeped into my muscles, loosening the tension from the workout, but it didn’t do a damn thing to stop my brain from short-circuiting every time I snuck a glance at Isaac.

He sat on the wooden bench across from me, towel wrapped loosely around his hips, legs spread wide enough to make my pulse stutter. It was just the two of us there, the sound of our breaths rumbling in the quiet space. His chest rose and fell in a slow, steady rhythm, sweat trailing down the planes of his torso, through the fur on his pecs and the ridges of his abs. If he was aware of just how indecently good he looked, he didn’t show it.

I needed a distraction.

“So, Queen, huh?” I said, leaning back against the wood, letting my arms sprawl over the bench. “Didn’t peg you for a classic rock guy.”

Isaac gave me a look, his blue eyes glinting in the semi-dark. “Are you suggesting I have bad taste in music, Landry?”

“Not at all. Just… quaint.”

He huffed, scratching his hairy chest. “Some things are evergreen. Queen’s one of the greatest bands of all time. Any other opinion is just flat-out wrong.”

My lips curved. “That’s a strong stance.”

“It’s the only stance.” He tilted his head, watching me through the steam. “And, since you apparently know their music, you agree with me.”

I tapped my fingers against the bench. “I mean, I don’t disagree. My dad is a huge fan, so I grew up with their songs.”

“Mm. What’s your favorite?”

I pretended to think. “Hard to choose, but I gotta say Don’t Stop Me Now always puts me in a good mood.”

He snorted. “Predictable.”

“Predictable? It’s one of their best! What, are you about to tell me yours is Bohemian Rhapsody ?”

He shot me a sly look. “Actually, no. Who Wants to Live Forever .”

I gave a slow nod. “Good choice. Big, dramatic, a little tragic…” I smirked. “Kind of fitting.”

Isaac shook his head. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just saying, you’ve got the whole brooding intensity thing down.”

He scoffed, mirth laced in the sound. “I do not brood.”

“You do, though.”

“Landry, if you keep running your mouth, I might make you do extra sets next time we work out.”

I grinned. “Empty threats, old man. You’re all talk.”

His eyes narrowed, but there was no real heat behind it. “Old man?”

“Well,” I drawled, stretching out my legs, “I heard you’ve been running Nova for, like, fifteen years?”

“Yeah, so?”

“So…” I squinted at him dramatically. “That means you were, what, already an adult when I was born?”

Isaac exhaled through his nose. “Jesus Christ.”

A laugh escaped me. “Hey, I’m just doing the math.” I tapped my chin, thoughtful. “Did you ever get to see Queen live?”

A glint of amusement danced in his eyes. “As a matter of fact, I did.”

I jolted upright. “Bullshit.”

He nodded, smug. “1992. The Freddie Mercury Tribute Concert at Wembley.”

My jaw dropped. “You saw that? Live?”

“I did. My mother was from the UK, so we were there at the time, visiting family in London. Both my parents were Queen fans and decided to take me. I was only ten, but it changed my life.”

“That’s so fucking unfair.”

Isaac snickered, tilting his head back against the wall. “Now who’s brooding?”

I let out a dry chuckle. “I mean, come on. George Michael’s Somebody to Love ? Bowie and Annie Lennox? Metallica? You got to witness actual music history.”

He gave a lazy shrug. “Perks of being an old man.”

I narrowed my eyes. “I take that back. You’re ancient .”

“Keep talking, Landry, and I’ll start critiquing your music taste.”

I gasped. “How dare you. My playlist is pristine.”

“What, Ariana Grande and Beyoncé? Drake and Kanye West?” He snorted. “Your generation doesn’t know what good music means.”

“Hey, we have Adele!”

He only grunted. “The exception that proves the rule.”

“Fine.” I leaned forward. “What’s your guilty pleasure song?”

Isaac gave me a look. “I don’t have one.”

I rolled my eyes. “Oh, come on. Everyone has one.”

“I don’t feel guilty about my music choices.”

I smirked. “So, you admit you listen to embarrassing songs.”

He sighed, low and measured, like he was regretting ever engaging in this conversation. “I… might have a soft spot for I Want It That Way .”

I almost choked on my own breath. “The Backstreet Boys?”

He shrugged. “Classic.”

I gaped at him. “The big manly honcho listens to boy bands in his free time?”

“Correction—one song. And it’s a banger.”

I flashed him a crooked smile. “So, you do have a guilty pleasure song.”

Isaac shook his head, but there was something different in his expression now. Less tense. More relaxed. His eyes weren’t so sharp, his shoulders weren’t so rigid. Like the weight of his day had finally started to lift. I liked seeing him like this. He exhaled, rubbing a hand over his face. “I needed this.”

“What, the sauna? Or me clowning you?”

“Both, it seems.”

I gave a sly grin, leaning back again. “Happy to be of service, boss.”

Isaac’s lips curved, but he didn’t reply. He let his head rest against the wall, eyes half-lidded, body loose with the kind of relaxation I’d never seen on him before. Like, for the first time all day, he could just be . And fuck if that didn’t make me feel some kind of way. I noticed his towel had loosened even more, exposing his dark pubes, the root of his cock emerging above the fabric.

I looked away.

“I’m gonna hit the showers,” he said, standing up and securing the towel around his waist. “I’ve had enough heat for today.”

“I, uh, I’m gonna stay here a bit longer,” I said. The fact of the matter was, I couldn’t stand up at the moment. I needed a minute to calm down.

Isaac nodded and left me alone in the sauna. I didn’t move until I heard the water running. Thank the Lord this gym didn’t have open showers, because I had officially lost the battle with my body. Gripping my towel, I practically sprinted to my cubicle, my erection bouncing with each step. At least the locker room was empty. But as I reached my stall, I noticed a small crack in Isaac’s curtain—and I couldn’t help but take a peek inside.

I caught a glimpse of him—naked, standing under the spray, head tipped back as water cascaded down his big body. His cock was fucking huge —straight, uncut. Half-hard, swinging thick and heavy between those hairy thighs, his balls hanging low and full.

My stomach clenched. My dick twitched. I turned away fast, stepping into my own shower. But it was too late. The image of him—wet, powerful, perfect—was burned into my brain. And there, with only a wall between us, I gave in.

My hand slipped down and closed around my hard-on. Biting my lip, I tried to stay silent as I stroked myself to the thought of him.

To the thought of Isaac Steele, my boss.