Present day—Phoenix, Arizona…

It took thirty minutes by train to get from the Park and Ride to the Central Crime Divisional building where Richie worked each day. He could drive and make it in half the time, but parking downtown was a nightmare he had no desire to endure. Not to mention, he barely held on to his sanity while on a train where he could move around. In a car, Richie might do anything. Richie had worked for the DEA for over fifteen years. In that time, he’d worked on everything from busting low-level street deals to trying to bring down some of the nastiest of drug lords. That final one was what landed him with four months of medical leave, and sitting behind a desk for the past six months. A year ago, during an undercover sting, Richie had been exposed as an agent. He’d spent two months living in hell afterward. Now, here he was, taking the train and barely holding his shit together.

There was a second reason Richie chose not to drive now that he rode the pine. Today, that excuse stood inches from Richie, smelling like a million bucks. Normally, Richie kept his distance from his ex, Bryce. He always sat close enough to watch him, but far enough there was zero chance they’d speak. Bryce hated him for all the reasons he should. Richie had come home from those two months fucked up. No matter how hard the man had tried, Bryce couldn’t fix Richie. Richie had done the humane thing. He’d left.

The train was busier than usual. At standing room only, Richie had been shuffled closer and closer until there was no distance left between Bryce and him. They held the same rail. Their hands were inches apart. All Richie needed to do was slide his hand down, and they’d touch. The temptation was real and crippling. Richie was hard enough to bend steel. He imagined he was giving everyone nearby a show. It couldn’t be helped. Bryce dripped sex. Always had. Richie’s body knew exactly what Bryce could do for it. Richie was one step away from completely embarrassing them both. Leaving Bryce had been the biggest mistake of Richie’s life. Unfortunately, he didn’t know how to fix things between them, so he tortured himself instead. They worked in the same building. Five floors separated them. Richie found every excuse he could to do exactly as he did now—stare and fantasize. He tried mentally willing Bryce to look his way while hoping the man kept his gaze averted. Richie knew he was a mess of mixed emotions. That knowledge didn’t change a thing. He couldn’t stop. Bryce was gorgeous. He was possibly the sexiest man on the planet. Richie wasn’t the only one staring. With jet black hair and light green eyes, Bryce captured everyone’s attention. While wearing a dark suit and with his cut jaw covered in a day’s growth of dark beard, Bryce was breathtaking. The man had lips that made people want to do naughty things to them. Richie had fucked those lips. Tasted them. He wanted to do so again.

As if Bryce heard Richie’s silent plea to look, Bryce turned his head. The sexy green eyes that haunted him landed on Richie. Richie didn’t look away. Bryce did. The train came to a sudden stop, forcing Richie even closer.

A chuckle that sounded nervous even to his ears escaped Richie, covering the moan that had risen in his throat the instant their skin touched. “Well, this is uncomfortable. We’re crammed in here today.”

Richie’s well-dressed obsession turned his head again at the observation. For a split second, their gazes met. The man’s mouth lifted in one corner before looking away again. No doubt Bryce thought Richie was completely insane because he couldn’t stop staring. It was ridiculous for any one person to be so flawless. The door opened. Bryce stepped out. Richie followed at a slower pace. He didn’t want to make Bryce any more uncomfortable than he already had today. It was bad enough he’d been staring at the man like a perv for the past half an hour. When his sexy ex made his way toward the coffee shop inside the high-rise where they worked, Richie almost kept walking. He didn’t need his daily coffee that bad. The smell of dark roast permeated the air and whispered Richie was a fool if he thought he could resist its addictiveness. Not to mention, the sexy ass leading the way had him tethered by an invisible chain, dragging him along. Bryce opened the door and held it wide for Richie as if he’d known Richie had been behind him all along.

Richie flashed him a smile as he passed. “Thanks. I promise I’m not stalking you.”

Bryce smirked, making Richie’s stomach clench with desire. “That’s a shame.”

Oh, goddamn. Richie’s knees weakened at the claim. The words had been so quietly spoken Richie almost missed them, and a small part of his brain—bent on saving him from embarrassment—refused to believe he’d heard them at all. He’d never been more aware of someone standing behind him. Richie fought the urge to turn and talk, pulling any conversation out of his ass, even if it was about the weather. The dude stood so close Richie could smell his cologne—like chocolate and cherries—and feel the heat radiating from his skin. The tiny coffee shop had them packed inside, making their time on the train seem like a luxurious dream. Oxygen felt almost nonexistent. Richie’s entire being stayed locked on the man at his back. He struggled to remember what he usually ordered. His thoughts wouldn’t steady. Richie’s discomfort grew until he found himself turning away, pushing his way through the crowd, and bursting from the shop. He didn’t dare meet Bryce’s stare as he passed. Richie sucked air like he’d been trapped underwater as he made his way toward the elevator. Yeah, he was still a fucked-up mess. Claustrophobia was just one of the many issues he still battled every second of each day. He stared at the arrows above each elevator door, focusing on nothing while trying to guess which door would open first. Richie tried telling himself he hated crowds. He wasn’t having another panic attack. Things were under control. Lying to himself was part of Richie’s coping. Healthy or not, the method usually worked for him.

The arrow to his left lit. Richie shuffled closer, waiting for the door to open. Everything seemed to move twice as slow this morning. He hated days like this when he could feel a PTSD attack creeping into his brain, waiting to pounce. Finally, the lift dinged and the door slid open, letting him inside. He pressed the button labeled with a twelve as a second set of shoes joined him.

“Where you headed?” The question died on his lips as he lifted his gaze to a set of light green eyes.

“Seventeen.”

Richie pressed the button. His gaze immediately swung back the man’s way as the door closed, shutting them inside together. It was the first time they’d been alone in six months. Richie couldn’t let the moment pass. “My claim of not stalking you is getting flimsier by the second.” Richie kind of wanted to slap himself at the asinine comment.

“Maybe I’m the one pursuing you,” Bryce deadpanned. His gaze never wavered from Richie.

He eyed Bryce’s empty hands. “You didn’t get your coffee.” Richie wished he could think of something wittier. Nothing came to mind.

Bryce’s eyebrows rose. “Neither did you.”

“It was too crowded in there,” Richie admitted. “I couldn’t take so many people pressing in on me.”

Bryce nodded. “Me too.”

This was the most they’d spoken since their break-up. Richie wanted to say more. Bryce turned away and focused on the closed doors before Richie could think of anything. He tore his gaze away and focused on the number above the door. It said six. The elevator jerked to a stop. Richie eyed the door, mentally willing it to open. He didn’t want to accept what he already knew as the truth. They were stopped between floors. The elevator had malfunctioned. Fuck. Sweat already coated his skin from the coffee shop debacle. He couldn’t be trapped.

“Call for help.”

Concern etched Bryce’s features as his gaze swung Richie’s way. “Give it a second. It might not be anything to worry over.”

Richie pushed away from the wall and paced. “I can’t be trapped. Call for help.” Even to his ears, Richie sounded anxious. A part of him recognized he could call, push buttons, or do any number of things to help himself. The rest of him was already in panic mode.

Thankfully, Bryce didn’t make him ask a third time. He opened the call box and brought the phone to his ear. “Yeah, we’re stuck.”

“Don’t say we’re stuck,” Richie said in a stage whisper. The fact that Bryce didn’t roll his eyes said a lot about how good the man was at his job. Bryce was one of five shrinks who worked for the combined letters in the building—CIA, FBI, and DEA. That was one of the biggest reasons Richie had walked away from the man. He saw Richie too clearly. Richie knew he was overreacting. Fear was like that. It didn’t give a shit what Richie knew. He’d been locked away in a room smaller than a closet for two months. There’d been enough room to sit, but not stretch out his legs. He couldn’t stand or lie. It had been so dark he couldn’t see his own hands, and Richie had been left with nothing but his thoughts. He couldn’t be trapped again.

“They’re working on it,” Bryce said, cutting into his thoughts. “Are you okay?”

Richie stopped pacing long enough to focus his rage on Bryce. “Do not fucking psychoanalyze me right now, Bry. I’m not one of your patients.”

A loud, tired-sounding sigh filled the elevator. It was unnecessary. Richie already knew he’d exhausted Bryce long ago. Why did he have to be trapped with Bryce of all people? He liked to think he’d win the man back someday. Days like today proved it would never happen. He couldn’t stop being weak. Bryce was too smart to be tricked by Richie’s false veneer of sanity. The man deserved to be with someone who could hold his shit together.

“Shit.” Richie couldn’t stop the curse from escaping. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.”

At Bryce’s order, Richie focused on him. Bryce looked calm. Of course he was. It was his job to be cool and collected—to fix other people. “Don’t say that,” Richie argued. “I owe you several apologies. Fuck. What’s taking so long?” Richie was two minutes shy of scratching off his skin. He already couldn’t stop pacing.

“You should focus on something else,” Bryce said, pushing away from the wall. Before Richie could guess at his intentions, Bryce overcame him. The cool wall touched his back as Bryce invaded his space. Richie couldn’t look away, even as Bryce lowered his head. Their lips met. It happened without thought. Accepting Bryce’s kiss was as natural as breathing. Everything else fell away. He no longer felt trapped. They were alone. The faulty elevator transformed into a haven. Bryce held Richie’s bottom lip between his teeth, nibbling. Richie’s hands found the man’s waist. He missed everything about them. The backs of his eyes burned from the longing. Then Bryce opened his mouth over Richie’s, and heat exploded through him. Their tongues brushed. The familiar taste of Bryce filled Richie’s mouth. He wanted to pull away and beg Bryce to take him back, but the need to hold Bryce won. Bryce’s hands slipped from clasping Richie’s jaw to Richie’s shoulders. He shuffled closer, deepening their kiss. Bryce’s palms slid down Richie’s arms before moving to his hips. Richie’s heart sped. He knew Bryce’s every move. His body tensed—expectant. His every fiber focused on the final inch between them, willing Bryce to make it disappear. He craved the sensation of Bryce’s erection brushing his as they fought to get closer. Instead, Bryce moved away. A flush rode high on the man’s cheeks, making his light eyes seem even lighter. Bryce swiped his thumb across Richie’s bottom lip, wiping away the moisture from their kiss.

“This is your floor.”

Richie’s gaze shot to the open elevator door before shifting back Bryce’s way. “I—”

“You should go before you’re stuck again,” Bryce said, cutting him off and sending him on his way.

With one final lingering look, Richie did as Bryce bade. He needed to think. They’d kissed. Richie wasn’t sure he could go back to being without Bryce again. He might not have any choice. Richie had fucked things up between them pretty royally. Today was the first day in months that things didn’t feel hopeless. Richie needed to ponder this and make a plan. He also needed to find an empty bathroom and jack off, but that was another story.

* * *

Bryce’s hands shook. He tried balling them into fists only to find his teeth chattered as well. Seeing Richie freaking out started Bryce on the road to losing his shit. Kissing the man had done him in. The five-floor ride to his office didn’t help. It had been five months and three weeks since Richie walked away. In that time, Bryce had done his damnedest to move on and save himself. With one kiss, he’d wiped away all the progress Bryce had made. Goddamn, his cock ached. Every nerve ending in his body craved what only Richie could do for him. It had started on the train, with Richie standing only inches away. He’d felt Richie’s stare like a physical touch. Now Bryce couldn’t stop craving the real thing.

He had clients today—people who wanted to get better. Bryce would do well to focus his energy where it was wanted. As he took off his jacket, Bryce fought the urge to drop into his chair and put his head between his knees. The air felt too thin to sustain him. No one made him feel useless the way Richie did. The man didn’t want Bryce—not his help or his love. Nothing had changed. Bryce would focus on work. His job was all he had.

Bryce made it through two clients and lunch at his desk before his mind found the topic of Richie once more. They’d met three years ago, in that same fucking elevator. Richie had been a field agent back then, and cocky as hell. Bryce’s heart sped at the memory. He’d caught the man checking out his ass. Richie had smirked, daring Bryce with his eyes to call him out. Goddamn, their nights had been hot. Between Richie’s confidence and dominance, he’d swept Bryce off his feet in no time. Bryce had fallen so damn hard and fast, all other men disappeared in his eyes. Then Richie had gone missing in the middle of an investigation. Chills raced over Bryce’s skin. He couldn’t even think about those days. Everything ended with Richie’s disappearance. He’d come home a stranger Bryce still didn’t recognize. Bryce’s phone buzzed, pulling his thoughts from the dark place where he kept those memories buried. He dug out the device.

Richie: We should have dinner.

Bryce blinked at the face of his phone. It was the first text he’d gotten from Richie in ages. The final messages Bryce had sent Richie, begging the man to talk to him, were still hovering above the new text from Richie. The sight of his words, pleading for anything from Richie, kept Bryce from responding. All the pain burst through the thin wall he’d built around his heart. He swallowed past the lump in his throat. Bryce shut his phone inside his desk before his mind snapped. He’d never been more scared for the safety of an electronic device. He wanted to chuck it against the wall. Bryce wasn’t angry with Richie. Not really. He was mad at himself for being weak and craving Richie’s touch. Bryce reached beneath his desk and readjusted his cock. It only ever took the thought of Richie to stir his blood. They had more memories together than Bryce could count. For some reason he couldn’t explain, their night together before Richie had left for his final undercover op kept invading his mind. Bryce’s hands had been handcuffed to the headboard. A dildo filled his ass. His dick filled Richie’s mouth.

A light on his business line lit. “Dr. Macrae, Agent Christoph is here for his two o’clock.”

“Please ask him to give me fifteen minutes,” Bryce said, sounding as devastated as he felt. “I need to make a call.”

“Yes, sir.”

With his appointment on hold, Bryce headed for the private bathroom inside his office. Richie’s face wouldn’t leave his head. The memory of the man’s hot mouth on Bryce’s dick wouldn’t abate. Bryce tried splashing his face with cold water. Nothing helped. The erection tenting his pants wouldn’t go down. It wasn’t fair for one person to own his body the way Richie did. The man knew all Bryce’s perversions and shared them. Bryce had been convinced they were soul mates. Everything about them had been perfect before it was ripped away.

Bryce stared at his reflection. He looked every bit as turned on as he was. Anyone who saw him would know. There was no denying the flush to his cheeks and the desperation in his eyes. His hand slid to his crotch once more. Bryce watched it happen in the mirror. His chest tightened as his palm made contact with his aching cock. He slid his zipper down and set his erection free. If there’d ever been a point of return, he’d missed it. Bryce needed release. His gaze never wavered from watching his crown disappear over and over again inside his fist. His eyes tried falling closed from the pleasure. He refused to shut out the sight. It was him pleasing himself. Richie wasn’t there. He didn’t need Richie’s skilled mouth and wicked tongue. A ragged breath escaped Bryce. He didn’t have to have Richie’s palm stinging his ass to come. Bryce’s muscles tensed. He no longer saw his palm on his dick. In his mind, Richie was in his knees. Bryce closed his eyes and let it happen. He pumped faster, reaching for the orgasm the fantasy of Richie’s willing throat promised. His balls drew up tight. Bryce braced his free hand against the bathroom sink to keep his knees from giving out. Tiny sparks of pleasure climbed up his shaft. Pressure beat at his crown. Ecstasy exploded through him. Bryce forced his eyes open as jets of semen hit the sink. He made himself see that it was him that brought himself to orgasm. Richie wasn’t there. When the madness passed, Bryce was left feeling empty as he washed away his mess. He could no longer meet his own gaze in the mirror. This was what Richie had left behind. Bryce had needed the reminder.

He made his way back to his desk, doing his damnedest to feel nothing. He spent five minutes catching his breath before finally asking his receptionist to send in Agent Christoph. He smiled as the older and balding agent came through the door. Bryce made it through their hour together by making sympathetic faces in all the right places and offering suggestions. This was his day, helping others while he silently fell apart. He was certain, if anyone bothered looking close enough, they’d see he was a fraud.

Five more appointments and some paperwork later, Bryce burst from the building without looking back. He kept his gaze locked straight ahead, intentionally seeing no one. Never in Bryce’s life had he been more afraid to meet anyone’s gaze. He was one knowing look away from melting down. Bryce swore his lips still tingled from Richie’s kiss. Maybe it was time for him to find something else. He could open a private practice. All his school loans had been paid off by the company in exchange for his services for five years. He’d been there eight. Bryce could move on. With a new job and some distance, maybe he could meet someone new. It had been hell knowing Richie was in the same building, five floors down. Bryce’s pride had kept him from ever seeking the man out, but still. He’d known.

With an unofficial plan in place, Bryce’s shoulders relaxed as he slid into the first empty seat he found on the train. He took a deep breath and then another. Sometimes breathing helped more than anyone realized. Bryce tried emptying his mind. Without thought, he brushed his bottom lip. Damn, he missed having someone to kiss him good night. Sometimes it was the little things that threatened his sanity.

“So, dinner tonight,” Richie said, slipping into the empty space beside Bryce.

Bryce startled at the man’s sudden appearance. He chewed the inside of his cheek to keep from growling. This was his fault. He never should’ve kissed Richie.

Richie didn’t let up. “Come on. I’ll buy.”

“No, thanks.” Before Richie could say more, and in a desperate attempt to escape, Bryce tapped a woman standing nearby. She was pregnant and didn’t need to be stuck on her feet. When she turned his way, he flashed her a smile. “Take my seat.”

“Thank you.” She sounded relieved. Her grateful smile made giving up his spot worthwhile. Not to mention, he needed to get away from Richie. He exchanged places with the woman, moving away from Richie and holding on to the railing.

Richie followed. “Say yes, and I promise I won’t text you every five minutes for the rest of the night.”

“Was that a threat?” Even Bryce heard the laughter in his voice. Richie was the type to keep his word. If Bryce said no, Richie probably would text him every five minutes for the rest of the night.

Richie shrugged, looking way too sure of himself. “Whatever works. Have dinner with me.”

Bryce turned his back on him without answering. A minute passed. His phone buzzed. Bryce dug it out.

Richie: Please?

The growl in his throat got harder to suppress. His phone buzzed again.

Richie: Pretty please? I may even resist sending you a dick pic if you eat with me.

Fuck his life. A smile pulled at his lips. This was the side of Richie that Bryce had fallen in love with. The man could be playful and persistent. Unfortunately, he could also be dark, brooding, and distant.

Bryce turned, ready to put Richie in his place. They were damn near nose to nose. The breath caught in Bryce’s throat. Richie had the most gorgeous brown eyes. They were sweet and almost whisky in coloration. He’d stared into those eyes countless times under numerous circumstances—like when Richie had proposed, and when the man had broken him.

“Just dinner,” he heard himself agree.

“And drinks?”

The growl won.

Richie smirked. “I could make you do that again under better circumstances.”

Fuck him. Bryce knew it was true. “Just dinner,” he repeated, determined to hold on to some control.

Richie’s triumphant smile grew. “I’ll drive.”

“Whatever,” Bryce said, uncaring. He just wanted this over with. They would have dinner, and then Bryce would go home. Alone. Then, tomorrow, he’d start looking into setting up his own practice. It was way past time he made a life for himself without Richie.