Laird's Choice by Remmy Duchene (management books to read .txt) 📕

Laird said nothing to that, but walked by Race's side to the front door where a line was waiting. He walked up to the bouncer.

"How do I get VIP?" Laird questioned.

"Head over to that window." The man pointed.

Thanking him, Laird made his way to the window.

"VIP tonight, sir?"

"Yes. For two."

"Your name, please?"

"Laird Anatolis."

"Ah yes, Mr Anatolis. I can give you the Velvet Room for you and your guest."

"That would be perfect."

Once he had the two passes for the VIP and he paid for it, he walked back to where Race was standing, leaning against someone's car with his arms folded across his chest.

He stopped for a bit, just staring at the cowboy, wondering if Race knew just how hot he looked standing like that.

Laird strapped the VIP chain around Race's neck and stepped back.

Silently, the two made their way into the crowded club and Laird noticed the way people were turning around and staring. He pulled closer to Race's side but didn't touch him. They walked to the bar and he ordered a drink.

"What you drinking?" he asked.

"Guinness," Race said.

Laird could tell the cowboy had his back up but

didn't understand why. Bracing a hand against Race's hip, Laird pushed closer. "What's going on?"

"I guess I'm persona non grata 'round here."

"One of these days you're going to have to talk straight to me."

"Why? There's nothing straight about you," Race replied, staring over to where the DJ was.

Laird made a face and turned to the bartender who was busy trying to get his attention. Accepting the drinks, Laird handed over his credit card and walked with Race to the VIP room.

* * * *

Race lowered his body into one of the plush seats

and stretched his legs out before him. He thought people would have been a little bit nicer since he was released because of a wrongful conviction. But even though the law said he wasn't guilty and he knew he'd done nothing wrong, humanity always took precedence over law. Taking a breath, he took a swig from the bottle before turning his eyes to Laird who was staring at him intently.

"You're staring at me as if you want to kiss me,"

Race said.

"And what makes you say that? What in my stare tells you that?"

"The way your eyes change color," Race whispered, easing slowly to rest his elbows on his knees and to level his stare at Laird. "The way your tongue flows over your lips without you knowing. Your breath leaving your body faster."

Laird smiled and took a drink from his bottle. He looked away and the moment their stare broke, Race felt as if he'd overstepped again. Resting back in the seat, he turned to look out over the audience from the semi-silent room. He could see a few people pointing toward their room and he shook his head. He didn't want to be there but it was too late to turn back. To make matters worse, the man across from him had the most delicious body and he couldn't taste it. Pressing his eyes closed, he rested his head back. When he felt the air in the room shift, he knew Laird had moved. He didn't look at the other man. If Laird wanted to run he couldn't blame him. Hell, it would be better if he did walk away. Race smelled Laird and soon felt him climbing astride his lap. He jerked his head up and their eyes met. Laird pressed a finger to Race's lips, caressing them gently before lowering his head.

Race moved his mouth causing Laird to kiss the

corner of his lips. "Laird."

"I'm not country enough for you, Race?"

"Don't put words in my mouth. You don't know what you're getting yourself into."

"I'm a big boy," Laird said, grinding his hips downward.

Race arched a brow as Laird's arousal dug into his own. He groaned, pressing his eyes closed and lifting his hips ever so slightly to cause their dicks to rub harder against one another. "I want this, Laird. It's been so long since I've been with someone." Reaching around, he grabbed Laird's hips and pressed down. Slowly, he rolled his hips up, feeling Laird hot against him. Helpless to the fire charging through him, he caressed up Laird's back until one hand was against his neck. He tangled the fingers of his free hand in Laird's hair. Gasping, eyes closed and body raging, he pulled Laird's mouth down over his roughly. A satisfied growl escaped his body, rippled off both their lips as he sucked Laird's tongue in. Their bodies gyrated against one another even as he greedily feasted from Laird's lips.

He whimpered softly, tugging on Laird's hair. He felt Laird tremble against him before Laird moved a hand down to grip his hips. Race couldn't take it—he couldn't take the heat and the pleasure.

He yanked his mouth back, chest heaving, lungs

burning, and allowed his head to fall back against the seat.

A rush of adrenaline flowed through him like a river after a storm as Laird found his nipple piercings and flicked them with his index fingers. Race wanted to purr at him but grabbed his hands and restrained them behind Laird's back.

"Can't take the heat, Race?" Laird whispered leaning in and licking Race against the neck. "You might want to get out of my pants then."

Race laughed. It sounded like a rumble to his ears.

"Oh trust me, Laird, I can do things to your body you wouldn't understand but you would want. But there are things about me you won't like and I don't want to get into something with you only to have it end because of those things."

He could see frustration written all over Laird's face. But the real estate mogul had no time to say anything because the room erupted with the music from the outer club as someone walked in through the doors. They both turned to look at the man.

"Can I help you?" Laird questioned.

"I wanted to know your name," the man said, flopping down in Laird's seat