“I was a wreck after my parents were killed.”

Something in Marc’s voice pulled Royce from the wonder of the scenery around them. They’d been walking through the Boboli Gardens for a couple of hours, and he’d bet they hadn’t seen even half of what the place had to offer. He’d stood in the center of a hundreds-of-years-old amphitheater next to an Egyptian obelisk, feeling the weight of history surrounding him—like he could almost hear the amplified voices of the past. They’d walked past evergreen meadows, fountains, and Roman statues. The sun shone down on their heads, warming the early spring day while a slight breeze balanced it out perfectly. If he hadn’t been so worried about their reason for being here, this would be the perfect vacation.

Marc Foster had a lot to do with that.

Now they stood in a tunnel of trees, the foliage to the sides and overhead creating hidden pockets of shadows that made Royce think about trapping Marc in a few. Over the last hour, he’d grown more pensive. Royce stopped walking and reached out to grasp Marc’s hand. It was cold, so he pulled him close and put it between his two.

Marc went still, his blue eyes locked on Royce’s hands before they came up to meet his. The corner of his mouth went up, then he stepped close, and pressed a slow, firm kiss to Royce’s lips. “We’re supposed to meet Angelo around midnight tonight at a bar downtown.”

“Why so late?”

“Angelo is…eccentric. Keeps weird hours. And he loves dancing more than anything, so he can often be found on a dance floor. I bet he knows the best clubs in every major city in every country.”

“As interesting as he sounds…” Royce rubbed his hand between his own to warm it. “I’d rather talk about after your parents were killed. You’ve been trying to start a conversation for a while today.”

Marc stiffened and pulled his hand away, although he offered a smile as he did. He sighed and slid his hands into his pockets. He wore jeans again today, but he’d paired them with a loose, off-white fisherman sweater and lace-up boots. The sweaters were kind of driving Royce a little nuts because he liked the feel of Marc’s hard body under the soft, expensive knits. Plus, this one slid half-off one shoulder every now and then, and every single time, he had to fight not to put his lips on Marc’s skin. He could become addicted to the feel of him under his mouth. And his hands.

And wrapping his cock.

Heat crept into him, and he took a step closer to Marc, only to realize they weren’t alone. Another couple passed them, hand-in-hand, lost in their own world. Marc watched them, and Royce watched Marc. Fuck, he was beautiful. He also needed to trust Royce with whatever he felt he should share. He figured he’d help him along. “Does this have anything to do with why you and my boss seem to have an issue?”

Marc grunted a laugh. “Oh, yeah. A lot to do with it. Rowe has seen me at my worst. Like I said, I didn’t handle my parents’ deaths well, and instead of getting therapy or turning to art, I went a completely different direction. A wrong one. I got mixed up in some bad stuff, Royce. Underground shit.”

Royce waited to respond because he was, frankly, too shocked. And not that Marc had been a part of those things, but because he couldn’t fathom a bad place that would attract someone like Rowe. His boss was a family man to the extreme. Maybe he was a bit reckless at times, but as far as he knew, up until Rowe was with his current boyfriend, he had been faithfully married. The loss of Rowe’s wife had been a dark time for everyone who cared about the man.

“I can see you trying to figure this out. You think badly of me?”

“Of course not. I’m just trying to picture Rowe somewhere like that and failing miserably.”

“Ever meet Rowe’s friend, Ashton Frost?”

“Most definitely.” The doctor everyone called Snow was not somebody easily missed or forgotten. Tall, imposing, arrogant, the silver-foxed surgeon took over a room as soon as he entered it. And like a lot of people who lived in Cincinnati for a certain amount of time, he’d heard the rumors of the man’s past sexual exploits. He’d liked things on the dark and violent side. Royce stared at Marc, unable to put two and two together here because it sure as hell didn’t equal four. Not where Marc was concerned.

Marc nodded. “I can tell you’re figuring it out, and you’d be right. I went looking for sex and pain back then.”

“With the doctor?”

“With a lot of guys and yeah, I was with him once.”

He couldn’t help it—his lips twitched. He knew it was a serious conversation, but Frost was fucking hot.

Marc shook his head, a small, shy smile chasing away his grave expression for a moment. “Yeah, he was good. Scary, but good.”

“I can imagine,” he murmured, realizing a twinge of jealousy had crept into his feelings. He frowned, not sure he liked that emotion.

“I like being dominated, Royce. To have someone else in control.”

“I picked up on that.” His gut was tighter than a drum because while he liked calling the shots in sex, liked it rough, maybe even with some pain—he wasn’t into the BDSM scene. He didn’t have a problem with it at all and had played in it a few times, but it didn’t have the draw for him. He loved games. Blindfolds, ties, toys…but this could be a problem if Marc needed a certain lifestyle.

He went cold when he understood that on some level, he was already thinking of Marc as his and his alone.

“I like being dominated,” Marc repeated. He glanced around and so did Royce.

They were alone.

“But I got mixed up in the worst of it.”

“You didn’t go to the safer places?”

Marc shoved a hand through his hair, pushing it off his forehead, and started walking again. Royce quickly caught up with him, wishing he could just take away the pain in Marc’s eyes, but he couldn’t stop him. Marc needed to get this off his chest, and Royce needed to hear this if he was going to better understand the man who was taking up a larger and larger part of his heart.

“When my parents died…I…I wasn’t that close with my dad, but my mom…she was everything. She made me feel like I was worthwhile, that I was a good person, and that I could do good things in life. With her gone, I just had my siblings, and you’ve seen how they treat me.” Marc swore softly, shaking his head. “I was convinced I was useless trash. I hated myself for failing to live up to my dead mother’s belief in me. I deserved to be treated like trash, so I went looking for it.”

“Marc…” Royce couldn’t stop the pained whisper. He reached out and wrapped his hand around Marc’s forearm. Marc tried to pull away, but Royce refused to release him.

“No, I need to get this out.”

“Tell me, but I’m not letting go.”

Marc stared at him for a moment, and Royce could see some of the pain recede from his blue eyes.

“Those first couple of years after their death, I fell in with men who beat me, treated me like the trash I believed I was. It was bad. The worse they treated me, the better I felt. The physical pain blotted out the voices in my head, the pain in my heart. I was so heavily caught up in that world, I got into some trouble. Along with Dr. Frost. Things went really bad. He was in worse shape than me. I knew Lucas Vallois, managed to call him. Both he and Rowe showed up like avenging angels. Rowe was pissed and ranting at his friend, and you could see how scared he was for him—how much he worried about him. That was actually one of my biggest wake-up calls. I wanted that. Friends like that. A boyfriend like that.”

“Pretty sure they were never boyfriends.”

“No, but they love each other deeply, and I wanted that.” He ran his hands through his hair. “Fuck, I don’t know if I’m making sense.”

“You are.” Royce felt raw—like he’d been turned inside out. Marc had grown up on the outskirts of a family, always feeling separate, and he must have been so goddamn lonely when his parents died. He understood that kind of pain and how that led to some really bad decisions.

“Your boss grabbed me, too, that time. Read me the riot act while driving me home. Said I should have done more to look out for myself. I was so stupid. He was a witness to some pretty dumb shit, so I’m sure his opinion of me is as low as it could possibly be.” He stepped closer and whispered. “That was a long time ago. I’m not a part of that world anymore, but I thought you should know. Hell, I haven’t even had that much sex at all the last few years. I’ve gone out of my way to avoid men that I thought would dominate me in the bedroom. I didn’t trust myself. I was afraid of falling back into bad habits, of being weak. But…you’re different. I knew you were different.”

Royce’s heart raced at Marc’s words. He’d taken a chance with Royce. Trusted him. And it was humbling. “I would never hurt you. There is nothing weak about you. You’re brilliant, kind, and so damn strong.”

Marc’s shy smile returned. “I could say the same about you.”

“Do you think a bad past is gonna scare me off?”

“No. I think maybe we have something really good between us, and I don’t want you accidentally running into a ghost from back then or running off because of something your boss tells you.”

“Gossip isn’t really his style.”

“No, but looking out for the people he cares about is. Very much so.”

That was certainly the truth. There wasn’t anything Rowe wouldn’t do for those he cared about. Royce wasn’t entirely sure he fit into that slot, but he did know that the man had his back in anything work-related. And if he were being entirely honest with himself, in any situation really. He only hired people he trusted, and the Ward Security umbrella was full of people who looked out for each other on all levels. It was almost like having a family. It would probably be more so if Royce had ever allowed himself to really sink into their world.

He thought back to his interview with Rowe for the job, when he’d told him about the work he’d done in Virginia, expecting to be thrown out on his ass. Rowe had merely asked if he was done being a shithead. He’d known then he wanted to work for the man more than anyone else. There was a…goodness to him that drew Royce.

Marc watched him silently, that pensive expression back on his face.

Royce took a deep breath of fresh air and eyed the arbor of branches above their heads. “We all have bad things in our pasts, Marc.” He looked back to him and held out his hand. “Come on, I want to eat lunch in the walled, medieval city and still see the rest of this place.”

“Monteriggioni is a bit of a drive, so we better get busy.”

“Exactly.” Royce winked. “We don’t have to meet Angelo until midnight, so I’m thinking afternoon nap in our room.”

“I like the way you think.”

* * *

Hours later, Royce backed Marc into the wall of the shower. “I can’t keep my hands off you,” he growled into his neck. Water poured over their shoulders and Marc, slick and wet, was the stuff fantasies were made of.

Royce ran his hands over his shoulders, chest, and stomach. He flattened one palm there, loving the way Marc quivered beneath his fingers. “You’re so fucking hot.” He sipped water off his jaw, then his collarbone.

“Let’s…” Marc panted, his hands running all over Royce’s shoulders, arms, and chest.

“Yeah? Let’s?” He nipped his bottom lip.

“I can’t remember.” Marc chuckled and shook his head, sending water flying out from his hair. “You steal my thoughts away.”

“Good. Don’t think.” He pressed him harder into the wall, eyes locked on Marc’s as he ground his dick against him. “Your ass cheeks fit my hands like they were made for them.” He cupped one, not even caring that the force he was using to press against Marc had his knuckles scraping the grainy tile. What did a little pain compare to a firm globe of that perfect ass in his palm? “I’m developing a real addiction to them.”

“Them?” Marc breathed before sucking one of Royce’s earlobes into his mouth.

Royce groaned even as he tightened his hand in answer.

“Ass cheeks,” Marc panted. “Got it.” He stretched away from Royce a moment and came back with a handful of shower gel. He began spreading it all over Royce, starting with his beard.

Royce pressed his lips tightly together to keep soap from going into his mouth.

“I love your beard,” Marc murmured as he slowly worked soapy fingers through it. “I have never dated or even kissed a man with a beard before. Was never attracted to facial hair. Even now, I kind of wonder what you look like without it.” He chuckled and moved down Royce’s neck. “But after feeling it on my ass, I’m hoping you keep it.”

Royce just held his breath as Marc soaped his nipples. Thoroughly. He got more soap and made Royce turn around.

“You think you’re developing an addiction? I love your ass. It’s like this surprisingly round gift that nobody else knows is under your clothes.”

Royce dipped his face under the shower head to rinse his beard. “People can see how round my ass is in my clothes.”

“Not really. I mean, of course they can, but it’s surprisingly plumper than expected.”

He frowned, not sure that was a compliment.

Marc leaned forward and propped his chin on Royce’s shoulder. “You’re all hard, ropy muscle everywhere else. Tight, sexy muscles in this compact body that I want to explore every inch of. And then you have this firm, little, very round ass. It’s my present. Only I know how wonderful it really is.”

Royce pressed his palms to the opposite wall and locked his arms. This made his ass shove back into Marc. “You saying you want to fuck me, Marc?”

“Oh, I definitely do. It’s not my number one preference, but I do love it.”

He looked over his shoulder to catch Marc licking water off his upper lip. He narrowed his eyes. “Where do you think the owners of this place are right now?”

“Gone. Their truck wasn’t out there, so they probably went into town.” He pressed his chest to Royce’s back. “Why?”

“You’ll see. Grab us towels.”

He chuckled at the speed the towel arrived over his shoulder, and he turned and wiped it over himself slowly as he watched Marc dry off. When the man looked at him for his next direction, everything in him tightened in heat and anticipation. Marc couldn’t be more perfect for him. He nodded toward the porch, and Marc’s eyebrows lifted before he grinned and complied.

Royce grabbed a condom and the lube, then paused and grabbed the small bottle of olive oil off the wooden table, before following him outside.

His breath caught at the scenery. Fields and valleys of green stretched out before them. Hints of flowers showed in dots of color, and in the scents that carried on the wind. And it was all like a frame for the most beautiful piece of art at its center. Marc.

“Turn around. Hands on the rail, Marc.”

The shudder that rippled down Marc’s back made Royce’s dick ache. Perfect. He was so fucking perfect, Royce stayed astonished at all times. Astonished and turned-on. It was like he existed in a simmering state of arousal, ready to pop wood if Marc so much as breathed.

He eyed the long, sleek curve of his spine, the dip at the base, growling when he got to the ass he’d called flawless. It was. As were the long, muscular legs beneath it. Marc gave him a look over his shoulder that turned the simmer of arousal into a full-on boil. He walked up to him and slid his hand around to his belly, running his fingers over muscles, tracing his sexy navel before flattening his hand and pulling him back firmly against him. He rolled his hips, pressing his dick into Marc’s ass. He kissed along the top of his shoulders, latched on to the back of his neck, then nuzzled into his wet, silky hair. The whole time, he kept a rolling rhythm and sway with his hips and held Marc firmly just in that one spot on his belly. He ran his other hand over his chest and up to hold his throat.

Marc let go of the rail and stood, moaning and pressing against him so tightly, he stayed in rhythm with Royce’s hips. He tilted his head back.

“You smell so fucking good,” Royce groaned into his neck. He sucked on Marc’s earlobe and grinned when he felt that full-body shudder against the entire front of his own form. “Like that?” he whispered, biting down on the lobe.

“Fuck, yes. I like everything you do. I like everything about you.”

“I can see I’m going to have to work harder. That was too many proper sentences.” He bit down on the long muscle where his neck met his shoulder, relishing the vibration of the groans coming from Marc.

Pre-come spilled from his cock, making Marc’s ass slick. He rubbed harder, loving the slippery crevice that cradled him so goddamn perfectly. He bit Marc’s shoulder blade, making the man cry out and shove his ass back harder.

“I’ll do you another time. Fuck me, Royce. Out here. Like this.”

“That’s the plan,” he growled against his skin. “Put your hands back on the rail and bend over.”

“Shit.”

Marc did as he told him. Royce ran his hands up his back, threaded his fingers through his hair, and pulled his head back as he bent over him. He tightened his fingers, and the sound that left Marc was long and so fucking hot, he couldn’t breathe for a moment. He pressed his forehead to his back, then rubbed his beard softly back and forth down his spine. The closer he got to the man’s ass, the stiffer he went. Royce buried his grin in the top of Marc’s ass. He let go of his hair and grabbed his hips. “Stay very, very still.”

“You’re gonna kill me.”

“I see you can still talk.” He reached for the oil and drizzled some right between Marc’s shoulder blades, smiling when Marc sucked in a breath. “It’ll warm fast under my hands.” It was still a little chilly outside, and he could see goose bumps on Marc’s skin. That wouldn’t do. He ran his hands through the puddle of oil, then firmly began spreading it. He explored sleek back muscles, broad shoulders, and his long, sinuous spine. More oil was poured into the small of his back, then rubbed over his ass cheeks and in between. He spread it down onto the backs of his thighs. “Spread your legs.”

Marc did, and Royce slicked oil on his inner thighs. He made sure Marc was nice and slippery and shiny, then he grinned in anticipation.

“No noise. No matter what I do, stay quiet.”

Marc didn’t answer. Good.

He bent over and rubbed his dick on the oily skin, unable to stop the moan that tangled in his throat. He rubbed his beard between Marc’s shoulders where he’d first put the oil, knowing the rougher hair on slick skin would cause extra sensations. Marc gasped but didn’t make a noise otherwise. He did, however, start to shake. Just a little.

Royce planned to make him shake a lot.

He slowly stroked his beard down his back, then rubbed it in circles at the top of his ass. The body beneath him had gone taut, and it stiffened even more when he slowly—oh, so slowly—ran his beard down the crack of Marc’s ass. He knew the oily skin had to be crazy sensitive. He pressed a firm kiss to Marc’s hole before moving away. He held still, waiting to see what Marc would do.

The man was shaking, his hands white-knuckled on the rail. But he didn’t speak, didn’t move. He merely waited.

“You are so fucking perfect, Marc.”

Royce dropped to his knees and swept his beard back and forth over the vulnerable skin of Marc’s inner thighs. He put more oil on his hand and reached up to oil Marc’s sac, spreading his fingers behind it, then around it, before he oiled his cock.

The noise that came from Marc never left his lips. An inner whine, trapped in his throat, as his body started to shake more. He spread his legs farther and when Royce gripped him with a firmer, oily hand, then stroked, Marc’s head went back. One gasp escaped, and he clamped a hand over his mouth.

“Did I say you could take your hands off the rail?”

Marc put it back, but another whine escaped, and he shook his head and let out a breath, obviously trying to rein himself in.

“You’re beautiful like this. Your body glistening and warm from the oil. Your skin red from my beard.” He rubbed it back over Marc’s ass, his tongue coming out for a taste. He plunged it into Marc’s hole.

“Fuck!” Marc yelled.

He pulled back. “Uh, uh, uh. Quiet.”

“Asshole,” Marc muttered.

“What was that?” Royce asked as he made sure to rub his beard harder over the cheeks of Marc’s ass. He moved into a squat, then slowly stood, admiring the red streaks he’d left on all that pretty flesh. He didn’t take his eyes off it as he reached for the lube. The oil was nice, but he wanted the lasting stuff for this part. He made sure to touch every part of Marc’s back with his beard as he prepped him. At one point, he had to hold his breath and get it together because the feel of Marc silently losing it under him made him crazy.

The whole time, he’d kept his ears open for the sound of a returning truck. Knowing they were alone in this beautiful place went to his head, and in seconds, he had the condom on and was pushing slowly and firmly into Marc’s body.

“You can make noise now,” he growled as Marc’s heat and tight muscles clasped around him. He pulled out and pushed back in with the same, heady intent and when he bottomed out, Marc let out the most satisfying yell he’d ever heard.

“Fuck,” he breathed as he grabbed his hips and began pumping inside him.

Marc wasn’t still, shoving back, using the rail to push himself even harder onto Royce’s cock.

Royce held on to him, thrusting and reveling in the noises now spilling like a waterfall from Marc’s lips. Like the man had held them all inside, just waiting for permission to let them go. Some were words, and some were strung-together sounds Royce could barely make out.

“Fuck yeah. Harder. Good angle. Right there. FuckingshitIdon’tbelieveitfeelslikethis.”

Royce eyed the pinkened skin where he’d rasped his beard over Marc, then stared at where he disappeared inside the man. He ran his finger around their joining, enjoying the oil, the redness. Fuck, he loved it all. He threw his head back and held tight on to Marc’s hips as he moved deeper into his body.

Hoarse cries fell from Marc. “So ready. I’m there. I’m there, Royce!”

Royce managed to pull his thoughts together long enough to whisper. “Stroke yourself off now.”

Two seconds later, Marc clamped around him as he let go, sending Royce over with him. He bent over Marc’s back, wrapping one arm hard around his hips, and held on as he spilled into the condom. Ecstasy blasted through him so hot and fast, he could only hold on and grit his teeth.

“Oh, fuck yeah,” Marc breathed, his hand coming around to grasp Royce’s upper arm. “Fuck, yeah.”

The sound of a vehicle broke the moment and Marc yelped, then lost it. He laughed and winced as he pulled off Royce’s dick. Grabbing Royce’s hand, he turned and tugged them back into the room just as the red truck came around the corner. Royce was too sated from the best orgasm of his life to give a shit, but he stumbled along, gasping when Marc took the condom off him and threw it into the trash.

He ripped off the priceless quilt and they tumbled into the sheets. Royce stared at the fan lazily spinning above them as Marc plastered himself down Royce’s side. As sleep pulled at him, he tightened his arm and pulled Marc half onto his body. The man chuckled but did his thing. Slid one long leg over one of Royce’s and in between, and slid his fingers in the sweaty, oily hair on his chest.

“We need another shower,” he murmured, his voice hardly above a rasp.

“Later,” Royce whispered as he let himself luxuriate in the feel of Marc against him and fell asleep.

* * *

Knowing Angelo, he’d show up when he was good and ready. Marc knew he was here already, watching Royce, assessing his level of safety, before revealing himself to the man. He was probably out on the dance floor, but no matter how hard he looked, he couldn’t spot the pretty man. He wondered if Angelo had cut his long, black hair. But he mostly wondered what Royce would think of him, or of the fact that Marc had slept with Angelo. After seeing him, Royce would get it.

There was nobody else out there like the thief.

Neither of them had been interested in more than having some fun together, and that they had. They’d gone their separate ways, staying friends.

It had certainly been nothing like what he was experiencing with Royce. Their afternoon played through his thoughts over and over as they’d been here waiting for Angelo. That had been the hottest experience of his life. His back, ass, and thighs still burned from Royce’s beard play, and he fucking loved it. Loved that every now and then, Royce sent a possessive hand to rub over those places like he knew they were extra sensitive. Like he was replaying their sex himself. Or reminding Marc that he was the one who’d made that skin prickly and responsive.

A couple of times, he’d even sent one finger over Marc’s hole and each time, Marc had shivered, his vision blacking out a little at the edges, because the heat, the desire that coursed through him, was just that powerful.

Marc had felt nothing like that before. He might have done some crazy things in his past, but he’d never made love outside with a panoramic view of Tuscany—never dreamed he’d have something like that. And it had been lovemaking all the way through, from the shower, to the sticky, oily cuddle afterward.

He knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that his heart had started to beat for Royce Karras and that he was going to be devastated if the man left him.

The club was packed, bodies writhing to electronic dance music from corner to corner. The lights had lowered a half hour before, so the strobes sent kaleidoscopes of color over everyone. There was a lot of bare skin out there.

“Follow You Down” by Just Her blasted over the speakers, the deep house beat sinking into his body. He loved this song, and he slowly moved his body, not dancing really, but enjoying the music. He closed his eyes as Royce stepped closer, his body pressed to Marc’s back. Faint prickles shivered over his skin, raising the hairs on the back of his neck. Marc bent his knees. Just a little. The beat was getting to Royce too, because his hand came around to press against Marc’s belly and pull him harder against him. Royce’s hips rocked with the beat, his hard dick pressed into his ass. Marc’s legs were apart, so Royce had full access to his neck and he took it. He cupped the front and opened his mouth over the side.

Just like he’d done earlier.

Oh, God.

Shivers rolled up and down Marc’s spine. Fuck, the coiled strength in this man made him dizzy with lust. Royce bit down, his beard rasping over sensitive skin, and Marc reached over his shoulder to slide his fingers into that spill of silky, black hair. His groan disappeared into the music as the beat got darker, deeper…dirtier.

Like Royce’s hips.

They moved against him like the beat came from his bones.

He slit open his eyes and saw Angelo standing in front of them, swaying to the music, and the heat in those dark eyes made him smile.

Angelo stepped closer, and Marc felt Royce stiffen against his back.

“Please tell me you are into threesomes,” Angelo said loudly over the music. “Because you two are the most stunning men in this club. He is delicious, Marc Foster.”