He let himself back into the warehouse and closed the doors behind him. The loud click of the lights that followed his progression wasn’t as jarring as it was the first few times he was there. He hoped Harmon liked what he made for dinner. Cooking wasn’t his strong suit. His parents always had a cook and housekeeper, and he’d never had to learn to fend for himself.

But there was one thing everyone said he made well. He set out the baking dish of chicken Parmesan, a bowl of salad and a container with breadsticks. With everything on the rickety, 70’s style table with cracked corners, he strode to the fridge and pulled out two bottles of apple juice.

His hands tightened around the bottles as Harmon appeared in the kitchen. Harmon wore an unbuttoned white dress shirt and faded low-slung jeans. The man’s forearms flexed as Harmon scrubbed a towel over his hair.

“I would’ve helped.”

“No need. I had everything ready. Do you have plates and silverware? I didn’t bring those.”

“Yeah.” Harmon tossed the towel into a clothes basket nearby.

He couldn’t resist watching the way Harmon moved. Harmon was graceful and relaxed, like a man who didn’t have a care in the world. Harmon didn’t rush about.

“I’m curious about you.”

“Is that why you brought me dinner…bribes?”

Harmon shot him a grin over his broad shoulder and then turned with plates in hand. “Sit.”

He did as Harmon asked and waited. Harmon placed the plates and silverware on the table, then took his own seat. He nearly protested as Harmon started to button his shirt.

“You don’t talk much about yourself. You’re always asking questions about me or talking about other people. Is there a reason you don’t want to tell me?”

“I’m just not all that interesting.”

“I don’t think that’s true. Tell me everything.”

“Everything is a lot.”

“Start at the beginning, what’s your first memory?”

“I think it was my mother leaving me behind at the social services office. I think I may have been five or six.”

He wasn’t so much horrified by what his mother did but by the lack of emotion in Harmon’s voice. His impassive expression as if it hadn’t meant anything—that it was expected.

“I’m sorry.” He hadn’t known what else to say.

“It was a long time ago.”

Harmon didn’t say anything else as he watched Harmon make his plate first before making one for himself.

“Tell me the good parts. I don’t want you sad. How did you come to work for Linus?”

“Long story short, he found out about certain skills that I have, he took advantage of and paid me quite well for them. When I turned eighteen, he hired me on with the old company he worked for before he started his own. I moved here when he started Trenton Security.”

That was the most Harmon ever talked about himself, and he was kind of shocked the big man let that much out. Harmon seemed guarded. From the small amount of information Harmon shared, he’d pieced together that Harmon’s life wasn’t easy and probably still wasn’t. A part of him wanted to make the adorable man happy.

“But you didn’t meet Lily until you went to get a tattoo done by Lucky?”

“Yeah, Linus went through this phase where he didn’t spend much time with his family. I was always curious because you learn stuff. Sitting around bullshitting with the guys and stories get told. Linus sounded like his family annoyed him, but they seemed downright perfect to me. When Lucky took me to see Lily, I already felt like I knew her.”

“Meant to be.”

“I guess so.”

They ate in silence, and he chuckled as Harmon told him how good everything was after every bite.

“Why do you live in a warehouse? It seems like a lot of space.”

“I was homeless for most of my teens. I squatted in an abandoned warehouse in the town where I grew up in Mississippi. It was a poor place, so there wasn’t a lot of money to tear down or remodel in the small industrial section. For some reason, I liked the space. The walls never closed in on me. When I moved here, and I saved up enough, I saw this place, and I wanted it. It was in bad shape, but it was better than living in my van or crashing at Lily’s place. Some habits don’t ever go away.”

“I like all the space. My place is tiny. I rent this garage apartment. People ask when I’m going to buy a house or whatever. I just haven’t found one to make me want to commit.”

“What do you do? I don’t think I ever asked.”

“Oh, I work at an Atlanta research firm. Mostly, people contact us to investigate art and antiques. Some genealogy projects. Someone always wants to know if they’re related to royalty.”

“You don’t work in town.”

“No, most of my time is spent working remotely, but occasionally I stay in Atlanta to take care of anything I can’t do from home.”

“Wouldn’t it be easier to just live there?”

“Probably, but I came here to research family history, and I fell in love with the place. Also, the distance from my family works for me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Oh, it’s nothing tragic. My parents and sister are very outgoing and athletic. Marathons. Charity events. Very much the life of the rich and famous, or Atlanta royalty. I’m just not very outgoing, and they worry.”

“Oh,” Harmon uttered that one syllable and then lowered his gaze to the table.

Even as the man tried to hide it, Harmon’s insecurity was blatantly on display. For a man as handsome as Harmon was, he didn’t think much about himself. That made him sad.

He just softly called Harmon’s name and waited for the big man to look at him. The man's beautiful green eyes met his, and he forced a soft smile to ease Harmon’s tension.

“Talk to me.”

“I like you.”

He didn’t know how he felt about the misery that stained those three words.

“I like you too. So what's wrong?”

Harmon didn’t speak just seemed to choke down the rest of his food, and he did the same. He stood and started to clear the table. He froze with the plates in his hands as Harmon grabbed his hips. He dropped them back onto the table with a clang and let the big man tug him down onto his lap. Harmon’s fingertips stroked across his cheek.

“You smell so sweet.” Harmon’s voice broke.

He closed his eyes as the tip of Harmon’s nose moved along his jaw and down to the side of his neck. A shiver worked through him.

“So soft.”

He felt a tug on his bow tie, and then Harmon started to work the buttons of his shirt loose.

“May I just touch you?”

He turned his head, his mouth met Harmon’s, and the man’s scruff was rough against his smoother skin. He realized with awe that he wasn’t the only one shaking. Harmon’s breath roughly shuddered over his lips. Harmon held himself so tense that his muscles strained and shook.

“Poe, please.”

Something about the begging tone tinged with too much desperation broke him. Harmon shouldn’t believe he had to plead for affection or the right to touch. As far as he was concerned, everything he was belonged to Harmon.

“Yes.”

Harmon’s big hand slipped under the soft linen of his shirt. Harmon squeezed and stroked, pinched his nipples. The man didn’t hurry. It was almost as if Harmon savored the moments as if that would be the only time he’d allow Harmon to touch him. He wanted more than a make-out session or some one-night stand. They’d only known each other a few months, but he felt closer to Harmon than he had to anyone else in his life.

Taking chances hadn’t always worked in his favor, but he didn’t want to bypass the possibility of a relationship with Harmon because he was scared of ruining a friendship. He’d seen the interest and heat in Harmon’s eyes as the man studied him. Noticed all the aborted attempts at touching him. Harmon had reached out to him so many times only to stop himself and pull away in every way. The emotional retreat hurt him the most.

“I love touching. Do you want to touch me?”

He frowned at the fearful question. Harmon waited for him to say no and he had no intention of doing that. He stood, and the devastation on Harmon’s face broke his heart.

“Take your shirt off, Harmon.” Harmon hesitated, and he wasn’t having that. “Now.”

Harmon’s hands trembled as they picked apart the buttons of the wrinkled shirt he wore. He groaned as Harmon exposed his dark skin covered with thick curls. He cataloged scars and a single mole on his right shoulder. The man was physically perfect, and he still didn’t understand why Harmon wanted him.

He wasn’t going to question it because above everything—including his fear—he wanted to love on this sweet, adorable and insecure man. He didn’t close the distance between them until Harmon dropped the shirt to the floor. He moved in close until he pushed his knees against Harmon’s and the man parted his legs. He stepped between them.

He let his gaze move over Harmon from his bright jade eyes down to the man’s fisted hands on his thick thighs. He raised his right hand and pulled his tie off, and he held it out to Harmon.

“Do you want it?”

Harmon quickly grabbed it and tucked it into the pocket of his jeans. Hiding it as if he’d take it away. He felt powerful and sexy at the heat of Harmon’s gaze observing his every movement. The curve of his belly, the slight softness of his chest didn’t matter as he removed his shirt. He dropped it. No one had ever looked at him the way Harmon was doing.

He brought his hands to Harmon’s scruffy cheeks and bent forward until his mouth touched Harmon’s.

Harmon sat stiffly with his hands still clenched on his thighs.

“Don't you want to touch me?”

“Yes.”

“Then why aren't you?”

For the first time, he didn't feel insecure about his weight, softness or his thick-framed glasses. Harmon waited for his permission or orders. It was a powerful knowledge.

“I don't want you to go away.”

“I'm not going anywhere, baby,” he whispered before he took Harmon’s lips.

Felt the firm give of Harmon’s full lips. He moaned at the strong grip on his hair. Harmon still didn't take over. His cock jerked at Harmon’s timidity. He hadn't expected that from Harmon but he should have.

The signs were there all along. His insecurity. The sadness the big man failed to hide. He'd never taken the lead before, and it was oddly exhilarating, but he was slightly lost as well.

Could he take the lead with a man like Harmon? The man was nearly twice his size.

“Do you want me to love on you, baby?” He whispered the question against Harmon’s lips.

Harmon nodded in answer causing their mouths to rub together. He straddled the man’s lap as he continued to kiss Harmon lazily. Harmon’s breath was labored to the point he thought the man would hyperventilate. He softly rubbed his hands over Harmon’s chest in a soothing rhythm trying to ease the man’s tension.

He tenderly took Harmon’s strong jaw in his hands and with feather light touches, he soothed his man. Tried to put Harmon at ease. He tried to ignore the huge hard bulge pushing against his own rigid dick. He didn’t see a reason to rush. He wanted to love on Harmon for hours. Show the man how special Poe thought he was.

To him tonight was only the beginning. Unless the man told him, he didn’t want anything to do with him he wasn’t letting Harmon go. He didn’t stop with the kisses. Harmon seemed to move into every brush of his lips. Every nip. The man appeared starved for affection.

How the hell could anyone not want to keep him?

He eased off Harmon’s lap, and the almost panicked whimper that passed Harmon’s full lips broke his heart.

“It’s okay, where’s your bedroom?”

“You’ll leave me.”

Harmon didn’t have to explain what that meant. He’d heard enough about no sticking around after a one-night stand. Harmon truly believed that sex would ruin what they had. Yes, he wanted to make love with Harmon. Show the man physically how much he wanted Harmon, but that wasn’t what his man needed that night.

“Who says we’re going to have sex? This is sort of our official first date. I don’t put out on the first date. What if I said I just wanted to spend the night with you? Hold you? Do some making out?”

“Really?”

“Yeah, so, where’s your room?”

Harmon stood and carefully laced their fingers. Then the man led him through the dark to metal stairs that led to the second floor. Their steps echoed on the vastness of the space. A dim light shined through the glass of a door you’d see in an office and not a bedroom. Harmon nudged him into a huge room with a big bed in the middle. It was an old-fashioned metal framed bed. A light shone from a bathroom on the other.

He pulled his hand out of Harmon’s and backed up until he closed the door. He wanted to see Harmon’s reaction. Harmon didn’t disappoint, the man’s beautiful green eyes watched his every movement. He held his breath as he worked his belt loose, popped the button and eased the zipper down. As he toed his shoes off, he dropped his pants.

No one had ever seen him naked before. Every fuck he’d had was being bent over in the dark. He’d barely enjoyed the times before. He knew he wasn’t physically perfect, but the need in Harmon’s gaze couldn’t be faked. As soon as he was naked, he walked toward the bed. He situated himself with his back against the headboard.

“Undress.”

“I thought we weren’t…”

“We’re not. I just want to feel you while we sleep.”

Harmon seemed almost terrified. It was in the way Harmon refused to look at him as he finished undressing and all the while he climbed onto the bed. Harmon stretched out stiffly beside him. He was going to have his work cut out for him.

“Come here,” he ordered as he scooted down and waited for Harmon to lay his head on his chest.

Harmon clutched him so tight as if he was frightened that he was going to leave him. He stroked Harmon’s soft hair.

He wondered how many people had used and discarded Harmon over the years that the man was so starved for love?

“Are you going to be here in the morning?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.”

It was too early for him to sleep, but he wanted to hold Harmon. Feel the man close to him and maybe give him some comfort. He liked the man; could see it turning into more. He was fighting against his own insecurities and Harmon’s. Nothing made him doubt the way he felt about Harmon, and he’d do whatever he had to, to make sure Harmon always felt special.

He turned his head to brush a kiss to Harmon’s brow and smiled as the man snuggled closer. He’d never slept with anyone before, and he closed his eyes to enjoy it. They had a lot to work out, but they had time.