Beauregard and the Beast Read online

  He brushed an invisible spec of lint from the front of his shirt and flashed a grin so toothy and wide, Bo couldn’t help but return it with one of his own. “Plus, it’s no fun if you don’t have some swagger for your first night under the Vegas lights. And you will, Mr. Wilkins, because you’re lookin’ good.” Adam jogged his brows and motioned toward the exit. “Ready to get this party started?”

  The fabric of Adam’s black-and-white pinstriped dress shirt hugged his broad shoulders, the muscles beneath rippling as he guided Bo out the door. It was a distraction, but Bo forced his eyes to meet Adam’s twinkling gray irises rather than roam where they didn’t belong. At least Adam was fully dressed. Although, that didn’t help much, considering the sinful way clothes clung to his body.

  Licking his lips, Bo shifted his gaze to the busy crawl of humans choking the sidewalk around them. “You clean up pretty well yourself.”

  Adam laughed, the deep vibrato humming through Bo with the same familiar comfort of music played too loud in the car. What would it feel like to press against him when he made that sound? Would it cause Bo’s skin to prickle and the nerves to dance beneath his skin?

  Bo squared his shoulders. He had to stop thinking like that. Adam was off-limits. Lusting after his boss wasn’t only stupid, it was also making his daily grind a challenge.

  It wasn’t the first time he’d ever found someone attractive, but it was the first time he’d had to crawl into bed with said someone every morning. Bo shivered at the thought of touching Adam’s bare skin, sleep-warm and rock-solid. He groaned and shook his head. He had to focus.

  Steering his attention back to the present, Bo held out a hand. “I can take the bags.”

  Instead of passing them over, Adam slung the shopping bags over his shoulder, supporting them with a casual crooked finger. The result was something straight out of a fashion magazine. Especially when he cocked his head and offered a model-perfect grin.

  “We’ve got plenty of time. Why don’t we drop them off at the car and grab some dinner first?”

  Bo bit his lip. He’d fought Adam on the clothes, but the man had insisted he consider them a work uniform. Just one of the perks of the job. It was an excuse, but Bo had caved anyway. He didn’t own anything half this nice. He’d save them for work-related events. Turn the excuse into a truth.

  But now dinner? And what did Adam have planned for after? Bo made a mental list of his available funds and came up short. Very short. Still, that didn’t mean he’d let Adam pay. This evening—whatever it was—had nothing to do with work.

  “I’m really not hungry, but if you—” A boisterous group crowded out of the nearest casino entrance, their squeals and high-pitched cackles drawing Bo’s attention. At least a dozen women, all wearing or carrying various accoutrements shaped like penises, shoved past them. Bo stumbled and collided with Adam, who dropped their bags to steady him against his chest.

  For the second time in less than a week Bo found himself encircled in Adam’s warm, solid embrace. And for the second time he made zero efforts to leave it.

  Adam chuckled. Although it wasn’t a full-on laugh, Bo’s earlier suspicions were confirmed. His skin tingled and every nerve in his body thrummed as Adam’s chest rumbled against his.

  “Gotta watch out for those bachelorette parties. They’re liable to stampede you flat.”

  Bo nodded, relishing the soft cotton against his cheek. He longed to rest his head on Adam’s chest, wrap his arms around him, and drift on a rush of euphoric endorphins.

  But he shouldn’t. No, he couldn’t.

  He took a deliberate step back. Adam’s arms tightened briefly before falling away, as if creating the distance had been as hard on him as it had been on Bo.

  Bending to scoop up their bags, Adam jerked his chin down the Strip in the direction the horde of raucous, penis-wielding women had gone. “Come on. Hungry or not, I guarantee you’ll make room for Giada.”

  “Giada?” Bo pinched his brow. That sounded expensive.

  Adam tossed their bags over his shoulder in that GQ-chic way that conflicted so acutely with his Beast persona. He rubbed his other hand over the scruff on his chin. “Giada De Laurentiis is a brilliant celebrity chef. She also happens to be a big fan of UFC. We’ve become friends over the years. I’ll hook her up with tickets now and again, and she returns the favor by making sure there’s always a table at Giada for me. Your mouth will thank me later, I promise.”

  A zing shot straight into Bo’s balls when he thought of all the ways he could thank Adam with his mouth. He ran a shaking hand through his hair. “That sounds great, but I’m really not hun—”

  A warm, callused palm met Bo’s. His stomach jerked in tandem with the tug Adam gave on his hand.

  “Just take one bite and I swear you’ll be singing a different tune.” Adam pulled Bo into the throng of humans, his grip tightening when the jostle of the moving crowd had Bo tripping over his own feet. “Tonight’s on me. Go hog-wild. Buy one of everything on the menu, if you want. You won’t regret a single morsel that hits your tongue.”

  Bo groaned, thankful the commotion around them covered the noise. His dick tingled to life as more images of his tongue on Adam’s many tasty “morsels” flooded his brain.

  Adam charged ahead, his firm grasp a welcome comfort as the bustling mob pressed in from all sides. Bo hurried to keep pace, his roaming thoughts spurred on by the view of Adam’s perfect backside.

  By the time they’d dumped their bags at the car and Adam had schmoozed their way into the restaurant, Bo’s racing heart had more to do with his dirty mind than their clipped pace.

  Preferring not to make a scene, he acquiesced—again—and enjoyed one of the best meals of his life. Just as Adam had promised. Still, Adam’s moans and whimpers as he relished his food, paired with the many times he licked his lips and the way he placed each bite deliberately into his mouth, had Bo shifting in his seat.

  As they devoured their meals, they talked about everything and nothing. The careful guard Bo kept in place slipped, and he found himself not only laughing at Adam’s stories, but telling some of his own.

  His heart fluttered when Adam took his hand again to lead him through the thickening crowd. As if it meant nothing. As if that single act didn’t throw Bo’s entire system out of whack.

  “Where are we going?” Bo struggled to keep up as Adam’s intimidating bulk parted the sea of humans and his long legs strode purposefully ahead.

  Adam tossed a wink and a cheeky grin over his shoulder. “I told you, it’s a surprise.”

  Over the past week, Bo had caught glimpses of the lighthearted, fun-loving man currently tugging him down the congested Strip. Although at apparent odds with the reputation Bo had read about, this side of Adam felt increasingly genuine. Like the jerky meathead he was so well known to be was the real act, and this soft, sweet, goofy side was his true persona.

  Bo was in so much trouble. The more time he spent with this kind, charming, and decidedly non-Beast of a man, the more that physical pull became something much stronger. Lusting was bad enough. He couldn’t start crushing on his boss. No way, nohow.

  But when Adam led him into the Planet Hollywood hotel and dragged him to the Will Call box office outside the V Theater, every bit of his self-determination went soaring out the window.

  Bo flashed back to Adam’s twinkling eyes as he’d winked and said, I’m gonna show you the man behind the Beast. This was it. This was the defining moment. The big “reveal” of Adam’s true self. And it came in the form of Evil Dead The Musical.

  Why that twisted Bo’s heart and brought a grin to his lips, he might never understand. But it did. Ho boy, did it ever.

  Adam dropped Bo’s hand to fork over his ID and a credit card and received two tickets in return. He waved them in the air, his face beaming with joy. “I hope you aren’t too attached to those clothes.”

  “Uh….” Bo glanced at his brand-new outfit. He screwed up his face. “Actually, I’ve grown quit
e fond of them.”

  Adam accepted two white T-shirts from the woman behind the ticket window. He handed one to Bo, then shook out the other and held it out for Bo to see. In bloodred letters, it screamed, “Evil Dead The Musical. I survived The Splatter Zone.”

  Shaking his head, Bo took a step back. “Nuh-uh. No way.”

  “Yes huh, and yes way.” Adam grinned and pulled the shirt over his head. “Go on, garb up. This is a once-in-a-lifetime experience you’ll never forget. I promise.”

  “But—”

  “No buts.” Adam snatched Bo’s shirt out of his hands. “Arms up. You either work with me here or I’ll resort to tickling.”

  Bo instinctively pressed his arms closer to his sides to protect his most vulnerable ticklish spots. “You wouldn’t dare.”

  “I would, and I have. Ask Kyle’s cranky ass. I had to fight him on this too. He didn’t regret it, and neither will you.”

  With a sigh, Bo raised his arms. The oversized shirt would do very little to protect his beautiful new clothes, but the look of childish delight on Adam’s face was all the convincing he needed.

  Whatever lay ahead, it would be worth it to see Adam this happy.

  As Adam latched on to his hand and marched toward the theater entrance with an unstoppable grin spreading his cheeks, Bo accepted defeat. How in Hades was he supposed to not crush on a man that perfect?

  They took their seats—front and center, no less—and Adam pumped a fist into the air. One of the crew members scurrying around the stage gave him a thumbs-up in response.

  “Once in a lifetime, huh?” Bo rolled his eyes.

  Adam offered an innocent shrug, followed by a wicked grin. “Once-in-a-lifetime experiences can be repeated, ya know. Plus, half the fun is singing along. How’re you supposed to do that if you haven’t seen it before to learn the words?”

  Yep. He was in serious trouble. The man behind the Beast had his claws in Bo’s heart, whether he wanted him to or not.

  Chapter Seven

  THE heavenly aroma of fresh-brewed coffee tugged at Adam’s senses, but he fought the urge to wake. His current dream was far too enjoyable to give in to consciousness. Within the constructs of his fantasy world, Bo nestled in his arms. The solid warmth of his body tucked into Adam’s, and soft snoring met Adam’s ear.

  He entangled their legs further, marveling at how their bodies fit together like puzzle pieces. The silky waves of Bo’s hair tickled Adam’s chin as he nuzzled into Adam’s neck and snuggled closer.

  It was perfect. The epitome of what a dreamworld should be. He ran a lazy hand up and down Bo’s back, relishing the murmuring hum and the languid little hip roll that followed.

  When the quiet snores returned and Bo stilled in his arms once more, Adam’s lids drifted open. He blinked against the brightness. Once, twice, a third time.

  What the hell?

  Lucidity replaced the hazy fragments of sleep. He wasn’t in his bedroom, nor was he alone.

  As surely as he’d been in Adam’s dream, Bo pressed into Adam’s chest. His lanky limbs wrapped around Adam like a vine, and the soft, woodsy scent of his shampoo warred with the heady smell of coffee.

  How had they wound up squashed onto the couch together? Adam did a quick mental check, running through the events of the previous evening. After they’d returned home from the show, they’d gone their separate ways to shower off the sticky fake blood. Bo had demanded Adam return with his clothes so he could attempt to rid them of the vivid red stains.

  While Bo scrubbed and pretreated the ever-loving hell out of the garments, Adam had made air-popped popcorn. Then they’d settled on the couch and watched another of his favorite cult classic musicals—The Rocky Horror Picture Show.

  And then…. Right. After Bo had tended to the laundry—switching some to the dryer and laying the rest out to air-dry—he’d landed face-first on the couch and almost immediately fallen asleep.

  Not quite ready for sleep himself, Adam had put in Shock Treatment, the follow-up to Rocky Horror, and proceeded to pass out sitting up not long after. At some point during the night, Bo had crawled halfway into Adam’s lap. Too exhausted to drag his lazy ass to bed—and, quite frankly, enjoying the closeness to Bo—Adam had shifted them into the position they were in now.

  Well, he’d parked Bo in front of him so they could both stretch out, but the vine-like attachment had been all Bo. Not that Adam minded. At all.

  Shit. Sleeping with your employee—even fully clothed and with no naughty business—was a big no-no. It crossed damn near every boundary possible.

  So why wasn’t he leaping off the couch and fleeing the scene?

  Bo jerked in his sleep, snorted in alarm, then clung even tighter. He burrowed his face into Adam’s chest, and any thought of running disappeared without a trace.

  Instead, Adam resumed the gentle caress of Bo’s back, who rewarded him with the same sleepy humming noises and another hip roll. Only this time, something hard pressed into Adam’s hip bone and a low moan replaced the soft murmurs.

  Double shit.

  Propriety overruled Adam’s desire to join Bo in the grind and groan. But barely.

  “Bo?” When he didn’t stir, Adam cleared his throat to loosen the morning gravel of his voice and tried again. “Bo?”

  Rather than startling awake and bolting in horror as Adam had so feared, Bo made adorable lip-smacking noises and snuggled in closer. “Mmm. Mornin’.”

  “Ah, good morning.”

  “Need. Coffee.” Bo’s jaw cracked on a yawn as he lifted his head. When his eyes blinked open, a drowsy smile spread his lips. For about three seconds. Then the terror Adam had expected took over. He shoved away so hard and so fast he landed on the floor with a loud thud before Adam could gather his wits enough to catch him.

  “Bo—”

  “Oh crap, oh crap, oh crap.” All trace of tiredness left Bo’s face. His eyes widened and color stained his cheeks. He crab-walked away from the couch until his back hit the hearth and he scrambled to his feet. “I’m sorry.”

  Adam pressed to a standing position, snatching Bo’s glasses off the back of the couch as he did. “Nothing happened. We just slept. I promise.”

  Bo nodded like a bobble-head doll and speared both hands into his spiked-up, sleep-mussed hair. Aside from his clear discomfort, Bo was irresistibly adorable fresh out of slumber.

  Holding up his hands to indicate the innocence of his intentions, Adam stepped forward and handed Bo his glasses.

  Bo accepted them with a shaky hand and eased them up his nose. “Th-thanks.”

  Sighing, Adam sank onto the couch. He rested his elbows on his knees. “I’m so sorry. This was my fault. I’m the one who put us in that situation. It was unprofessional and unacceptable on every level. If you want to leave, I’ll pay you six months’ severance and help find you a place to stay on short notice. I can call you a car—”

  “You’re firing me?” Bo folded his arms in a protective self-hug.

  “No.” Adam shot to his feet. “No way. I just don’t want you to feel obligated to stay here if you’re uncomfortable.”

  Bo was quiet for a minute. He was quiet for a minute as he stared Adam down. Eventually he dropped his arms and heaved a weighted sigh. “I’m not exactly innocent either.” He licked his lips and dropped his gaze to the floor. “I woke up when you, ah, moved us. So we were lying together.”

  Adam rolled his shoulders. That meant Bo had been at least somewhat lucid when he’d wrapped those gorgeous limbs around his body. He suppressed a moan. “Okay. We both let it happen. In our own way.”

  “Yeah.” Bo curled his lips in and rubbed an absent hand up and down his bicep. “It wasn’t a good idea, though. I mean, okay, yes, I’m attracted to you, and I think you might, maybe, feel the same?” He winced, his gaze darting up. When Adam offered a half smile and nod in confirmation, Bo’s shoulders slumped. “Okay. Right. So… we have to get over that.”

  Laughter barked up Adam’s throat. Was he ser
ious? They had to “get over” it? How, exactly? It had already far surpassed any of the physical yearnings he’d experienced before.

  Bo was the first man Adam had an interest in who he hadn’t simply fucked and forgotten. He was used to satisfying that initial zing of sexual attraction without any thoughts to staying the night, let alone any kind of future with the man. But when his physical urges were left unchecked and he was forced to interact daily with the object of his desire within the close quarters of his own home, things got complicated. Really fuckin’ complicated.

  Still, despite the confusion muddling his ability to think, he knew Bo was right. They had a professional relationship that couldn’t be tainted by all the dirty, sexy things he wanted to do to Bo. To do with Bo.

  Hell, they couldn’t even do the unsexy things his brain kept conjuring up. Like having Sunday brunch and laughing as they reminisced over their adventures the night before. Or curling up on the couch and reading together. Or snuggling in each other’s arms for an afternoon nap.

  Okay, so that last one was definitely off the table. But did the rest of it have to be?

  No, it didn’t. Maybe they couldn’t be lovers—something Adam had never sought before, yet something he couldn’t deny wanting from Bo—but who said they couldn’t be friends? That’d be the next best thing. Plus, it would be far safer. Adam needed to keep his head in the game so his career didn’t find an earlier death than necessary. Friendship he could work around. Anything else? That’d be too risky.

  “I’m down for ‘getting over’ the whole sexual-tension thing.” Adam glanced to the stairs and grinned when an idea came to mind. Something he could share with Bo that wouldn’t straddle those physical boundaries. Something special they could enjoy together. He angled his eyes back to Bo, who stared at him with a cocked head and pink cheeks. “Can we agree friendship is okay?”