Jamie headed into the house — more of a cabin, really — with Morgan. “So,” he began, trying to think of something to say that was more than wanna fuck?

“The house is old. There aren’t any records to suggest it’s been updated since the forties, so it would need new wiring and probably new plumbing. That would be reflected in the price, of course.”

He hadn’t had a chance to do more than glance at the reports Amanda had given him. He had no idea if the old dump had plumbing at all. Considering the kinds of mines it had been built on, he’d be surprised if it did.

“Of course.” Morgan gave a little smile. He’d always been pretty — too pretty, according to a lot of people. Now, though, he was magnetic.

In school, he’d always been a little too put together to be real, never had a hair out of place, and the prissy little suits he always wore didn’t exactly perfect him. Who went to class in formal wear, anyway? Twerps, that was who.

His blond hair now was just a little too long, his eyebrows natural instead of plucked and groomed. It was all just beautiful. He still had those eyes, perfect and blue and always looking like he somehow had eyeliner. It was a trick of his eyelashes but it had always gone straight to Jamie’s —

He shook himself out of it. Jamie wasn’t here to screw around. He was here to evaluate the property.

He sure as hell shouldn’t be giving Morgan Patrick the time of day. Morgan wasn’t really here to buy, after all. He had some kind of angle, Jamie was sure of it. He just didn’t know what..

“So, it looks like the place has decent bones. We’d have to go into the basement, of course, and check out the foundation. If you wanted to expand on what’s already here instead of tearing down and starting over, you could probably save some money and a lot of hassle with the city.”

Jamietried to think about unpleasant things, like Tommy’s ongoing stint in rehab or Ryan’s time in prison.

Of course, thinking about Ryan behind bars put Jamie in mind of handcuff., and of Morgan in said handcuffs. That was just no good for anyone.

Maybe he should focus on college. Jamie had never cared all that much about the Roscoe-Patrick rivalry. It had mostly been Morgan’s dad’s thing.

The guy was an asshole. Jamie couldn’t let them consume him, especially since he wasn’t going to inherit the family business.

Let Liam worry about the Roman Patricks of the world. That was why they paid him the big bucks.

No, if Jamie wanted to kill the boner Morgan’s presence was causing, he should focus on college. Everything between Jamie and Morgan dated back to college and if he wanted to get rid of his attraction to Morgan, he needed to remember why he’d they’d hated each other in the first place.

“You okay?” Morgan glanced over at him and shoved his hands into his pockets. His jeans looked almost threadbare. That part wasn’t like Morgan at all but maybe he’d grown up a little. Maybe he’d stopped worrying about fashion quite so much.

“Never better,” Jamie lied.

He expected Morgan to immediately try to one-up him. After all, that was what he’d done all through college. If Jamie got an A in a class, Morgan had to not only ace the next level class next semester but get extra credit too. If Jamie got invited to three parties in a weekend, Morgan wouldn’t rest until he got invited to four.

But Morgan didn’t try to one-up him this time. Instead, he just nodded. “Glad to hear it.”

It would have been nice to think Morgan had gotten over himself a bit, that his mind and soul had blossomed as much as his body.The fact that Morgan wasn’t working for his father anymore lent credence to that theory.

Something was still off. Jamie couldn’t rest until he figured out what it was. He tried to pretend it was self-preservation, figuring out what it could be before it bit him in the ass, but he knew the truth. He was just nosy.

He just wanted to know Morgan’s business.

“So why don’t we check out the upstairs?” Jamie suggested. “That’s assuming the stairs hold us. The property’s been vacant for a long time.”

“Oh.”

Yeah, Morgan hadn’t ever been this quiet.

“And then there’s the purple rhino with the pink spots. That’s negotiable, but honestly, I think my brother’s going to be reluctant to part with it.” Jamie kept his eyes forward.

“Sounds good.”

Damn it, Morgan wasn’t even listening to him. What was Jamie supposed to do here?

Jamie hated Morgan and he’d always hate him for what Morgan had taken away from him … but this guy in front of him wasn’t really Morgan. He was a doppelgänger, a sad sack in a Morgan suit.

What had happened?

The guy seemed almost numb. And since when would Morgan ever be content to live out here in the back of beyond — on the side of a mountain, without any paved roads?

He could remember the way Morgan used to be. He’d been cocky and full of life, the kind of guy who would have fit in just fine with the rest of the Roscoes--if he hadn’t been a damn Patrick.

He’d been charismatic enough to sell sand on a beach. He’d filled the room. Now he was barely noticeable, beautiful or not.

“So. Not digging the suits so much these days?” He held his breath as they walked up the stairs, hoping they held.

The second floor didn’t have much to it, just a couple of rooms, a lot of dust, and some footprints. He turned to check out Morgan’s shoes. That, at least, seemed to wake the guy up.

“It’s a casual world these days,” he said glibly. “Even you’re in khakis. I’m surprised your old man approves. You always were your old man’s little boy, weren’t you?”

Hey, look, Morgan Patrick’s still in there somewhere. And he’s still an asshole. It was almost a relief to see the old Morgan peeking through. It spared him any consideration for Morgan’s feelings.

Jamie led them back down the stairs as he shot back, “Not me. I only joined the family business after someone’s daddy bought them an internship. Oh, wait, that was you.”

“Maybe if you’d been a better candidate, you’d have kept the internship.” Morgan had said those words the last time they’d spoken about it, a little over two years ago. Back then, they’d been spat out over a boardroom table during a rare moment alone. Now, they sounded hollow and flat.

Jamie flashed back to that discussion. That brief conversation had been as hostile as hostile could be. Why wouldn’t it be?

Morgan had confessed he didn’t even want the internship. His father demanded he take it, so he took it. He’d dropped out of it halfway through, also at his father’s insistence.

He’d destroyed every one of Jamie’s hopes and dreams, for no reason other than the fact that his father told him to, and he wasn’t even sorry.

They’d had it out over the internship but there had been that spark, that jolt of electricity between them. If their fathers’ lawyers hadn’t come back into the room to collect them, they’d have wound up fucking. Jamie would bet his life on it.

And now? Now, nothing. Which was how it should be, damn it. So why did his body think there could still be something?

“Maybe if your father had stayed the hell out of it, the better candidate would have kept the internship.” Jamie spun around at the bottom of the stairs. He stepped aside to let Morgan back onto the first floor. “But you couldn’t do anything without your dad’s involvement, could you?”

“And you’re better?” Morgan’s lip curled, an echo of his old sneer. “Mr. ‘I’ll Never Work For Roscoe Industries’ is now a realtor for Roscoe? Give me a break. I figured you’d at least be an executive.”

Jamie ground his teeth. “Yeah, well, when you stole an internship you didn’t even freaking want, where was I going to go? But hey. I’ve still got my family around me, got an adorable little niece and, oh yeah, I get to show you the kitchen. Follow me.”

He led Morgan into the kitchen. “Obviously, the water’s off. No electric and it says here the well ran dry ten years ago. If you want water, you’d have to convince the town to run pipe out here. It probably wouldn’t be worth it for a single-family home but it could be worthwhile for a commercial development.”

“I don’t work for my dad anymore.” Morgan’s voice took on a growl.

“So, who are you working for?” Jamie faked a big, bland smile. “Someone else you can screw over just for kicks?”

“Hey, I told you. I was just doing what Dad told me. You’d have done exactly the same thing in my shoes.” Morgan grabbed onto Jamie’s arm, the first real passion he’d shown all afternoon.

Jamie tried to ignore the flash of heat that went through his body at Morgan’s touch. That skin-to-skin contact was enough to make his blood sing.

“Actually, two points about that, Morgan.” He ticked them off on his fingers as he spoke. “One, my dad wouldn’t have asked me to sabotage some college kid’s career because my dad isn’t actually Satan. And two, if my dad asked me to do something as fucking evil as taking an internship from someone who’d earned it, for no reason at all, I’d have fucking told him to take the internship himself and bring it to Hell with him, because I have a fucking soul.” He jerked his arm back.

Christ. That internship had meant everything to Jamie. The only thing he’d wanted at that point was to get out from the Roscoe family shadow. A career in architecture was the perfect way to do that. Without the internship, he couldn’t get into graduate school. Without graduate school, there would be no career.

And so, he’d had to come home and take the inevitable job as a Roscoe drone. He’d never forgive Morgan for that, and he didn’t expect Morgan to understand it, either.

Morgan just gave a low, dirty chuckle. “Poor baby. I can see you’re doing terribly for yourself with a measly little Audi SUV. And let me guess, the most expensive condo in town? Paid for by mommy and daddy, I’m sure.”

“Bought it myself, actually. Where’s your car again? Oh, yeah. Your ‘driver’ took it for a spin. Except the only place for you to stay in town would be someplace owned by a Roscoe and believe me when I say I’d have heard about that.” Jamie crossed his arms over his chest. “Oh, what’s the matter now, Morgan? Cat got your tongue?”

Morgan stepped closer. Fury made his blue eyes shine even brighter. “Yeah, you wish. You’ve been dreaming about the things I could do with this tongue ever since our freshman year.”

“Only thing your tongue is good for is chatter, Morgan.” Jamie pushed him gently aside. Morgan wasn’t wrong and, now that they were going at it, Jamie could see more of the Morgan he used to crave so badly.

Unfortunately, he was also remembering why he hadn’t done anything about it.

“What really happened? I can’t believe you would just walk away from it all.

Did your dad figure out what an ass of a son he had and walk away?”

Morgan pulled himself up to his full height. “No, actually. He figured out I was gay and kicked me out of the company. Apparently, having a son who liked dick was bad for his wholesome, all-American image.”

Jamie winced. He didn’t want to feel sorry for Morgan, fuck no, but that hit a little too close to home. “Yeah, well.”

He rubbed at his neck and thought of Marianna’s lies, her assumptions, and the way she’d erased Ryan’s whole existence from all of their lives. “I guess every family has someone like that, right?”

Morgan scoffed and took a step closer. “Oh, really? Your parents somehow don’t know you’re just as gay as I am?”

“Oh, they don’t care about that. Their version of family values is a little bit different than your dad’s but you’d damn well better toe the line.”

He shuddered to think about how Ryan had lived, and how much Jamie had gone along with it. “Doesn’t change the fact that you’re an asshole.”

Morgan laughed darkly. “Probably not. But quit acting like you weren’t desperate to fuck me through all the bullshit, okay? We both know how much you wanted a piece of this.”

Jamie stepped closer to Morgan. The current between them was dark and ugly, just like it had been in the boardroom that day. This was no boardroom, just an old abandoned house on the side of a mountain. There were no assistants, no lawyers, no cleaners to come and interrupt.

Morgan looked at Jamie’s mouth. He took a deep, ragged breath.

“I wouldn’t say desperate,” Jamie told him. His left hand twitched. He wanted to reach out and touch, to grab onto that magnificent blond hair and just tug.

He’d show Morgan what his tongue was good for, all right. “I’d have shown you what a Roscoe could do.”

Morgan rolled his eyes. He actually rolled his eyes, and then he gave Jamie a pissy look. “Are you all talk, Jamie, or are we going to do this thing?”

Jamie grabbed onto Morgan and smashed his lips against his own. It could have been called a kiss, in the same way wrestling could be called a hug. His tongue demanded entry into Morgan’s mouth.

Morgan let out a little groan as Jamie sucked on his lower lip and, for half a second, Jamie wondered if he’d hurt him. No, he assured himself, that had been a groan of pleasure.. Jamie could feel Morgan’s hard length as he rubbed up against his khaki-clad leg.

He pawed at Morgan’s chest. He could feel Morgan’s heart beating, slamming against his ribcage, through his beat-up old polo shirt. It gave him a little thrill to know he could cause that kind of reaction.

Some of it — hell, probably all of it — was adrenaline. Jamie didn’t care. It had been three long and awful years since he’d gotten that kind of reaction from anyone at all.

The fact that he’d gotten someone to respond felt like a miracle. The fact that the person responding was Morgan was icing on the cake.

He pulled Morgan’s shirt over his head and tossed it to the side. “You want to do this thing?” he growled into his ear. He took Morgan’s earlobe into his mouth and bit. “Fine, then; let’s do it.”

“Yeah.” Morgan let out a long sigh and ground his cock into Jamie’s. “If you think you can.”

Jamie knew what Morgan was trying to do. He was egging Jamie on. “I hope you brought lube because that’s not part of my usual kit.”

Morgan smirked at him and grabbed onto Jamie’s cock. “Oh, trust me, baby. I’ll be just fine.”

That almost made Jamie back off. He didn’t love Morgan. He didn’t even like him. Sure, he wouldn’t have minded knocking out a few of his teeth — before finding out what his dad had done — but only in a fair fight.

He didn’t want to really hurt him and definitely not like this. “You sure about that, cowboy?”

Morgan unbuttoned Jamie’s jeans. “What, you don’t think I can handle it? You just going to leave me hanging?”

Sirens blared in Jamie’s head. Abort, abort, abort! Danger, Jamie Roscoe, danger!

He ignored it. His cock was going to explode if he didn’t get some relief. “Fine,” he said. “If that’s what you want but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

He peeled Morgan’s jeans off him and gave him three fingers to suck. “Get ’em good and wet,” he ordered. “This is all we’ve got.”

Morgan winked and took all three fingers into his mouth at once. He did have a talented mouth. If this were someplace else, someone else, Jamie could imagine some of the other things Morgan could do with that mouth.

He couldn’t let his mind go there, though. They wouldn’t be doing this again. They wouldn’t see each other after this, God willing.

He opened Morgan up as quickly as he could without hurting him. Then he slicked himself up with as much spit as he could muster and worked his way inside.

God, this was incredible. Jamie hadn’t ever gone bare with anyone before, and he’d definitely never gone for the lube substitute before. Morgan was tight, hot, and just amazing.

He pressed in on Jamie like he wanted to keep him inside forever. They both panted through the adjustment period, overwhelmed with something they’d be hard put to explain.

And then Morgan turned his head around. He looked Jamie in the eye. “Is that all you’ve got?” he asked, in a raspy voice.

Jamie snapped his hips back and slammed home. Hee did it again and then again. This was never meant to be passionate, gentle sex. This was fucking, rutting, and Morgan Patrick deserved everything he got..

This was Morgan Patrick, who had tried to show him up at every turn in college.

This was Morgan Patrick, who had screwed him over for life and for no reason other than the fact that his father had told him to.

This was Morgan Patrick, who’d been his father’s eager little lapdog in trying to destroy Roscoe Industries.

This was Morgan Patrick rocking his hips, to try to take Jamie even deeper.

This was Morgan Patrick yelling encouragement and begging for more.

This was Morgan Patrick, who’d needled Jamie until he’d given in to the chemistry between them that had built up since they were 18 years old.

He reached around and took hold of Morgan’s cock. No way he was going to come before Morgan Freaking Patrick.

“Oh, God.” Morgan moaned it and then he shuddered with his whole body.

The next thing Jamie knew, Morgan gave a strangled cry and shot thick spurts of come up over his belly and chest. He sounded like his world was ending..

Jamie could only see the side of Morgan’s face but it was enough. That beautiful face, frozen in ecstasy, his whole body clenching around Jamie’s cock and holding him tight — it was too much. He lost the rhythm he’d set and pumped his release straight into Morgan with a loud groan.

He collapsed against Morgan, sweating and panting. It took a few moments before he found his legs again. He kissed the back of Morgan’s neck and helped him to stand. Carefully, he tucked himself back into his pants, zipped himself up, and grabbed his briefcase.

“What the hell are you doing?” Morgan’s voice was still thick with a post-orgasmic haze. It softened his harsh words.

“I don’t usually carry sex supplies but I do carry wet naps. Some of these places, you just don’t know.” Jamie grabbed one and used it to clean Morgan up. It was the least he could do. “Thanks for that.”

Morgan shakily dressed himself. “Thank you.” He tilted his head, just before he pulled his shirt over his head. “Why are you being so nice?”

Jamie chuckled. “I don’t know. Trying to be a gentleman? Look, do you need a ride somewhere?”

Morgan bit his lip. “Yeah, I can call my driver from somewhere in town, I guess. Thanks. Just let me take a leak.” He headed out into the brush.

“Aw, come on, it’s got a working outhouse!” Jamie laughed.

“It’s got working scorpions, too,” Morgan grumbled.. “Give me a second.”

Jamie waited by the car. He would give Morgan his privacy. After all, Morgan hadn’t said anything about him keeping his shirt on.