The wool jacket slipped from Dean’s shoulders, pooling onto the hardwood floor of the study, followed closely by his tie and white dress shirt. Standing in the cool air in only his trousers, his chest heaved in shallow, frantic breaths, his skin prickling with cold and raw anticipation.
Kellan didn't move from behind the desk. He watched every button undone, his dark eyes tracking the line of Dean’s neck down to the rigid arch of his collarbones.
"Not here," Kellan rumbled, his voice low and vibrating with absolute ownership. He stood up, stepping out from behind the desk, his presence towering. "The study is for business and contracts. When you surrender your body to me, Dean, you do it in my space."
Kellan crossed the room, pressing a subtle panel hidden within the mahogany bookshelf.
