The knock on his door came just as Low stepped out of the shower. He’d spent the past couple hours hiking to the top of Stone Mountain, trying to outrun his thoughts. Didn’t work out so well, though.

He threw on sweats and slung the towel around his neck then went to the front door, peeking through the peephole first.

Well, shit.

He yanked the door open and didn’t even bother to ask himself why he did. “What happened?”

Dax held up his hands. “Whoa, no. Nothing happened.” He paused and glanced away before meeting Low’s eyes. “Can I come in?”

At least he asked this time, right? Low stepped back and waved him inside.

“He doesn’t know I’m here,” Dax said before Low even had the chance to shut the door behind him.

He frowned. “Okay?” He drew the word out, wrinkling his brow. “You lost me.”

“He needs you.” From the way Dax’s face got all twisted, he wasn’t a fan of those words. So why was he saying them?

“I’m pretty sure you’ve got me confused with someone else.” Low leaned against the door and crossed his arms. “How is he doing? I mean, the wound,” he quickly corrected. “Is he healing?” It had been a week since he last saw Renzo. He should be up and about by now.

“He’s healing, but I—” Dax rubbed the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable. “Something happened, and he’s in a dark space.”

That didn’t sound good, but what was Low supposed to do about any of it? “Why are you here, Dax?”

The other man jammed his hands into his pockets with a frustrated sigh. “I dunno. I just…You should go see him.”

Low barked a laugh. “You serious?”

“He’s a complicated man, but for some reason he’s different with you.”

“Different how?” Because apparently he needed an ego stroke? Jesus.

“He’s at the club,” Dax continued. “Just—I know you want to see him, too.”

“You know nothing.” Except what Low wanted, obviously. “I can’t be around him,” he told Dax softly. “What he did to my cousin, I can’t forget it.” He wished so much that he could.

“I’m not asking you to forget anything,” Dax said. “But I see the way you two are together and I know that right now Renzo needs something. That something is you.”

“I can’t.”

But it appeared that he indeed could. He could get dressed and get into Dax’s SUV. He could let Renzo’s bodyguard drive him to Club Ȇxtase. It was weird being inside the club with it was all silent and empty, flooded with light. The place was clean, but the damage that had been done when Renzo got shot was still present in the bullet holes in the walls.

“When will the club reopen?” he asked Dax. “It will reopen, right?”

Dax nodded. “Few days. They’re finalizing the details.” He nodded to the stairs leading to the Renzo’s office overlooking the dancefloor. “He’s up there.”

Low’s heart was up in his throat for no damn good reason. Why was he here? To see Renzo. He couldn’t lie to himself about that. He climbed the stairs while Dax stayed behind. He shouldn’t be there. His pulse shouldn’t be pounding at the thought of seeing Renzo again, but it was.

He’d done the right thing, walking away before. Right? Except this felt…so much better.

Jesus.

Anticipation and guilt choked him, twisting everything up inside. Reminding himself of just who Renzo Vega was didn’t do a fucking thing to stop him from grasping the doorknob and turning it. He stepped into the room then stopped short when Renzo’s head jerked up from the paper in his hand.

Glasses. He wore glasses. Thick, black frames that somehow made him look even sexier. Good God. How, though?

“Low.” Renzo removed his glasses, a frown creasing his brow. He was always a punch to the face, a fist to the gut, the force of everything him knocking Low back onto his heels and stuttering his breath.

This. This thing scared him. If he gave in, Renzo would take all Low had—which wasn’t much to begin with—and demand more. It wouldn’t be like Chance. Wouldn’t be like any other guy Low dealt with.

Renzo Vega didn’t settle. If Low knew nothing else about the man who stared back at him with so much pleasure shining in bloodshot eyes, Low knew that.

“You look tired.” He licked his lips, pretending he didn’t notice the flare of Renzo’s nostrils.

Renzo’s mouth curved. “Is that why you’re here at—” His gaze cut to the watch around his wrist. “Ten-forty at night? To tell me how tired I look?” He took a couple steps toward Low. “Because you’re looking like somebody I’m trying to fuck.”

Breath left Low in a rush. Every word Renzo spoke seemed to find a spot on Low’s body and sink deep, staying there even when they were apart, forcing him to remember as they burned. The struggle to remain aloof would always be one he lost spectacularly.

Times like now, when Renzo stood so close smelling like the hot sex he kept promising, Low didn’t mind that loss. “We not doing this.” Basically, the words were all breath, but he was too caught up in Renzo’s eyes to be embarrassed. “I din’ come here for this.” When he was in control, his speech wasn’t as stilted, his accent wasn’t as pronounced. But in front of Renzo Vega, Low had control over nothing. Definitely not his body.

Because he was moving, right foot in front of left. Drawing closer to the thing he wasn’t supposed to touch. Wasn’t supposed to want. Curiosity and lust rode him, kept him upright until they were chest to chest.

Renzo touched him. A clasp on the curve of his neck. Low leaned into it. It was like he was on some fucked up shit, floating high, caught in something he couldn’t fight. Helpless to do anything but feel it. Ache for it.

Renzo’s grip tightened. Barely. Low’s breath hitched. Those fingers on his skin, they did nothing but play him, showing him how futile fighting could be. He wasn’t skilled enough to tangle with Renzo and win. He should give in. But pride wouldn’t allow it, so he struggled against the drugging current.

“You-You’re a criminal.” He was the only person who required that reminder.

“That’s right,” Renzo murmured at his ear. “And I’ll fuck you like one, too.”

He didn’t moan at that. Or at least, he managed to swallow the sound before it dropped from his lips.

“Low.” Renzo mouthed Low’s neck, nipping. “Put your skin on me. Let Daddy make you come.”

So good. So fucking good. The blood rushing in his ears drowned out the rational thoughts. The ones reminding Low that Renzo was dangerous. But it was the same danger that had his knees knocking at the moment. It was the same danger that had him grasping fistfuls of Renzo’s shirt.

Renzo’s head came up.

Low missed his mouth on his skin already.

“Low.” He sounded battered and bruised, and instinctively Low wanted to soothe him.

That notion gave him back enough of his senses for him to step away from Renzo and his power. Because that’s what it was, right? The power to make Low forget shit. The power to ache.

So much with the aching.

Renzo looked starved. The way he watched Low. The way he touched him. Starved. It did things to Low, like whetting his own appetite, drying out his throat. Until all he wanted to drink was Renzo. All Low wanted to taste was his kiss.

“Funny—” His voice cracked. “Funny how every time you put us together in a sentence it’s you doing stuff to me.”

Renzo’s eyes narrowed.

Low took a breath that smelled of lust and danger and kept talking. “Maybe I’m interested in fucking you.”

“Ah, Lowell.” Renzo’s grin sent fear and desire racing down Low’s spine. “I hope you haven’t mistaken me for someone who doesn’t love the idea of getting on all fours.”

Oh God.

“Especially if it’s for you.” Renzo stepped once more into his space, scent filling up Low’s nostrils, his heat bringing sweat. The hunger never left. It just flared brighter, hotter when Renzo put his hands on him. Both hands on Low’s face, staring into his eyes when he whispered, “I ride. And I ride it good.”

A promise.

A taunt, too.

“Put me on all fours,” Renzo spoke against Low’s lips. “Watch me ride.”

He’d mortgage his soul to see that. Barter even more to experience that ride. “Wanting you…” Low reached for him, sliding a hand over Renzo’s left hip and around to settle on the small of his back. Heat poured. His resolve melted and he was confessing, “The cost of wanting you is too high.” But he pulled Renzo closer into his body.

Renzo shuddered. For him.

Fuck, that knowledge got him harder. Low let his lashes fall and the hands on his face disappeared. His eyes flew open and he found Renzo just watching him. Too much. He said too much in that hungry silence. Gaze needy, looking like Low was the cure for everything that fucked with him.

“Touch me.”

He’d never heard such an agonized plea before. Never shivered at two words before. Never wanted to follow a command so much.

“Renzo.” What he should have said was no. What he should have done was turn around and walk away. But he didn’t. He flattened the palm of his hand at the small of Renzo’s back and pressed it against him.

Hard.

So he could feel it. So there’d be no mistaking what was happening.

Renzo’s nostrils flared. He rocked backward, as though pushing himself into Low’s touch. He fisted the hands at his sides as he watched Low, barely blinking, gray eyes growing darker the longer Low touched him.

He wanted more. Low couldn’t lie about that. He wanted so much more than his hand on Renzo’s back.

“I keep you on my mind.” Renzo’s voice was a rumbly scratch over Low’s skin, marking him. “I keep your body on my mind and your taste on my tongue.” He cupped Low’s jaw. “I don’t want to lose it.”

Out of all the things Renzo Vega had ever said to him, those last six words were the ones that broke Low. Those were the words that pushed him into Renzo’s arms.

Fingers in Renzo’s hair.

Lips on his.

Renzo opened for him, and Low just swept in like he was supposed to be there. As if it all belonged to him. The thrust of tongue that made him groan. The taste of pent-up lust, wet and wild. And the sounds Renzo dropped, sounds Low caught with his tongue and lobbied back at him.

Arms wrapped around him. So tight. Suffocating. But he pressed closer, rubbing up on Renzo’s hardness, Low’s own cock pulsing between them. Grinding. Friction so sweet, he squeezed his eyes shut and clung. Moving. A slow, dutty wine with his thigh pressed between Renzo’s.

Teasing.

Testing.

He’d regret it all later and Low looked forward to doing penance, but right now he felt as if he’d died and Renzo’s tongue was bringing him back, giving him life. He sucked, feverish and hungry, loud and sloppy. Groaning when Renzo groaned, pulling at his hair with impatient fingers.

Goddamn kiss making him snatch Renzo bald.

It was that good.

His heart thumped loud enough for anybody downstairs to hear as sweat dampened his armpits and the back of his t-shirt. Low didn’t care about anything but this, the high he experienced with Renzo’s hands clutching his ass, digging in, and his mouth working over his, tongue diving deep in search of everything Low had.

He opened wider, hips jerking against Renzo as they moved, mouth and hips, so in sync. He was ready to lay it all down, his clothes, his body, and let Renzo climb him. Let Renzo do everything he promised to his body. He’d love it.

The kiss said he’d love every second of it.

He’d never be the same.

Fuck. Low pulled away slowly, reluctant to release his new favorite thing. They parted with a wet sound, and at the sight of Renzo’s wet, kiss-swollen lips, Low wanted to grab him and do what he begged for earlier.

Put him on all fours.

“No.” Renzo didn’t remove his hands from Low’s body. If anything, his grip tightened. “Low. Don’t stop.”

Low licked his lips, tasted that wild danger and wanted to weep at the loss. “I have to go.”

“Why?” Renzo’s eyes were heavy-lidded, chest heaving. He didn’t look so much like the image of the big bad Renzo Vega right then. He looked a little lost, a little high and a whole lotta sexy. Hair sticking up from Low’s pulling, cheeks flushed, the bulge in his expensive-looking pants. “I want you.”

Sexy.

Low wanted to claim him.

He stepped back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Take me.” Renzo flung his arms wide. “I am yours for the motherfucking taking. I have been yours.” The expression in his eyes, Low wanted to bathe in it.

He covered his face with both hands, shaking his head. “Don’t do this to me. Don’t make me make a choice.” Everything else in his life was so shaky. He already didn’t know who he was truly, where he belonged. Something inside him said he could belong to the man standing in front of him with the open arms. Something said it didn’t have to be so hard.

“Low—” Renzo dropped to his knees, hugging Low around the waist. “Give me whatever, Low. Just give me something.”

Low gazed down into his eyes, shining like precious stones, wrestling with himself. “Get up off your knees. Renzo, your wound—” He slid his fingers through Renzo’s hair and the older man shuddered, eyelids dropping low to fan out over his cheeks. Renzo Vega on his knees.

Jesus.

“Give me something,” Renzo begged again.

Low joined Renzo on his knees and clasped him by the face. Lips pressed to Renzo’s, he licked him open and dove in. Everything he wanted, he found it there, in the arms Renzo used to haul him close. In the tongue that wrapped around his and unraveled the knots in his chest, freeing him.

But at what cost?

Clasping him by the nape, Low tugged his head back gently. Those eyes. They’d been haunting his dreams and fantasies for so long. “If I give myself to you, what will I have left?”

Renzo just gazed up at him. Seemed neither of them had answers to that question. So Low released him.

He got too his feet.

And he walked away.

Again.