Making It Personal by Wells, C. (best non fiction books of all time txt) 📗

but he didn’t care. “Will it be all right if I leave fairly early? I have a big day tomorrow.” Blake nodded in agreement. “Well, in that case….” Alec’s eyes twinkled. “Can I take a shower?”

Blake chortled. “You are going to love my shower.”

All of a sudden Alec pulled him into a deep kiss which had him responding instantly. Their tongues battled, hands sliding over slick bodies, until finally Alec broke away, breathing heavily. He met Blake’s gaze, eyes twinkling.

“Only if you’re in it with me.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The sound of the alarm pierced the silence of his bedroom. Blake fumbled around until his fingers located the snooze button and he gave it a half-asleep thump. He lay there in the darkness, brain still addled by sleep. Groping across the sheet, he found the mattress cold and empty next to him. Puzzled, he searched for the switch to turn on the lamp. Blinking in the light, Blake stared, eyes heavy with sleep, at the space where Alec had lain only a few hours previously. On the pillow lay a single sheet of paper. Blake sat up, yawning and scrubbing a hand across his face, his fingers rasping loudly across his stubble as he picked up the sheet.

Blake, it’s 5.30 and I’ve got to go.

Thanks for sharing your birthday with me.

Next time you use J’s services? I’d be delighted to see you again.

Any time.

Alec.

Blake couldn’t help the small pang of regret that filled him. His night had been filled with Alec. As he stumbled into the bathroom and blearily flipped on the shower, he leaned against the cool tiles as the water heated up, his mind playing scenes of the previous night. Alec lathering him with bodywash and then rubbing himself sensually against Blake, the slip and slide of their bodies together an extremely erotic memory. Waking from a doze to find Alec spooned around him, his erection all too apparent. Alec with his hand around Blake’s throat as he took him from behind, slowly sliding into him, taking his time, until both men came with low, breathless cries. Blake shivered despite the warmth of the water. Fuck, the man is good at what he does.

By the time Blake opened Trinity’s main door at seven thirty, he was his usual self, cool and efficient, ready for the day. Methodically he dealt with the emails and sent memos to the team, before sitting back on the sofa to read through Will Parkinson’s application one more time. He made notes in the margin, reminders to himself of points he wanted Will to expand upon or clarify during the interview. He gave his watch a quick glance. Will’s interview was slotted for ten o’clock. Blake went to his desk and pressed the intercom. “Karen, can you get in here, please?”

Seconds later, Karen Candido appeared, clutching her notepad, and sat in the chair facing his desk, pen poised over paper. Blake sighed inwardly at the sight of the low-cut blouse, heavy make-up and excessive jewelry. Karen was the main receptionist, and the one remaining member of staff dating back to his father’s reign. Subtle hints about the office dress code seemed to have made little difference. If only it were just the way she looks, Blake thought. Karen had a reputation as a maneater, as every new male who entered the company found out to his cost. She was about as subtle as a blowtorch.

Blake launched into his requirements without preamble. “I’ll be interviewing for the PA position this morning, Karen, so when Will Parkinson arrives, make him a coffee and then let me know. I want him relaxed before I see him.” Blake hated interviews and therefore assumed everyone else did. He always did his best to make sure that applicants were put at ease. “Hold all calls during the interview, and send a memo round to the team. I don’t want any interruptions.”

“Yes, sir.” Karen scribbled quickly. “Will that be all?” Blake gave her a brisk nod and she got up and exited the room. Blake heaved a sigh of relief. At least she’d finally given up on batting her eyelashes at him and making not-so-subtle adjustments to her blouse. Any more of that, and he would read her the company line about non fraternization among staff. The fact that such a policy didn’t even exist wouldn’t slow him down for a second.

He flicked open a folder to read through the list of new contracts which were going out that week. It made for impressive reading. What was more astounding, however, was the success of the relatively new venture of MM books translated into European languages. Lizzie was in charge of the translation department, and Blake had given her a target of releasing four translations per month of their most popular MM titles. Lizzie, always an overachiever, had set about the task with her usual determination and zeal. Blake had to smile: last month, her department released eleven translations, and she was now informing Blake that she was advertising for more translators, proof readers and screeners.

The intercom buzzed. “Mr. Davis, Will Parkinson is here.” Game time. Blake stood and straightened his desk, and then gave his silk tie a last adjustment before opening the office door to walk along the corridor to Karen’s desk. As he rounded the corner, he caught sight of a tall, lean figure, his back to Blake as he studied the framed press articles which adorned the walls.

“Mr Parkinson? Would you like to—”

The man turned and Blake’s next words died in his throat. It was Alec.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Oh, you have got to be kidding me! Will groaned inwardly at the sight of his hot as fuck client from the previous night, standing there openmouthed, eyes wide. Well, there goes this job. Of all the fucking worst luck….

Will composed himself. Better get it