The drive to Breakaway Point was a familiar one to me. It was where many of my business associates and contacts lived, being that it was the most affluent neighborhood outside of the city. But on this day, I wasn’t making the thirteen-mile drive to meet with any of them. Today, I was trailing the one person I never suspected would venture out this way—Jesse Clark.

As a heavy fog rolled in off the Pacific, it hung low amongst the dense pines that bordered the narrow road that wound its way up the side of the mountain, and I made sure to keep a couple of car lengths behind the rusty red car sputtering its way up at the front of the slow-moving pack.

The little lamb was fearless, because anyone sane wouldn’t brave the drive to Breakaway Point in a car that had barely managed to start a few days before. I, on the other hand, had the luxury of making the trek in my black Range Rover, which I’d chosen both for the terrain and anonymity. Where we were going, my SUV would fit right in, and Jesse wouldn’t be alerted to my presence.

Yesterday’s date had gone the exact way I had intended. I’d charmed that poor boy right out of his discomfort and managed by the end of it to have him handing over his cell number of his own free will. Yes, I could’ve looked it up on the den’s log, but I wanted that trust built. I wanted Jesse to give himself over piece by piece. And the first step had been his number, which I now had stored and at the ready for whenever the time was right—but that time wasn’t now.

As his car reached the plateau and picked up some speed along the flat strip of road, the silver BMW that had been trailing Jesse most of the way sped around him and then the driver floored it, clearly aware his car could more than handle the winding road a couple of miles ahead. That only left one car between Jesse’s and mine, and I eased my foot a little off the gas.

Where is he going? I knew for a fact he could barely afford the coffee he had insisted he pay for yesterday, and the dilapidated building he lived in was a far cry from the mansions that were nestled into the side of the mountain we were now at the top of. Then, just up ahead, I saw him make a left turn across the street and into a drive.

I pulled my vehicle into a driveway several houses down and watched Jesse pull his car to a stop and push open his door. When he stepped out, I immediately took notice of his casual jeans, shirt, and lightweight cardigan, as he walked up to one of the brick pillars flanking a large gate and reached out to push what I assumed was an intercom.

Trusts his car to make it to the top of a mountain, even though he doesn’t trust the window to wind down and back up…

As Jesse waited for someone to answer, he shoved his hands into the pockets of his cardigan and kicked around a stone as the fog turned to mist and dampened his light hair, turning it to a dirty blond.

I wanted to touch that hair. Wanted to run my fingers through it and take a hold of it. I wanted to use it to guide him where I wanted him to go, and I wanted to be the one to turn him from a clean, sparkling blond to something incredibly fucking dirty.

I knew I should leave him alone. Trinity was right about that. But the base side of me, the side that drove me to act in the ways I did, was such an integral part of me that I didn’t know how to ignore what it was driving me to do. Long ago I had sold my soul for the high of the chase, and that was the day I had become addicted—and now? Now there was no stopping me.

A voice on the intercom had Jesse’s head jerking around to face it, and when a beatific smile lit his face, I felt the sharp prick of jealousy claw at me. I wanted to be the one to make him smile that way. I wanted to be the one to make him laugh as he was now, and when he turned around to get back in his car, the gate opened and Pretty Baby slowly rolled forward, entering the estate behind the gates. Entering a property I had no business getting closer to. But that didn’t stop me from driving my Range Rover a mile or so down the road, parking it in a side nook behind the dense foliage that flanked the street, and trekking back on foot to get a closer look at who the little lamb was visiting.

* * *

“Charlemagne is a goddess,” I said, as I lifted the top off the platter that housed the delicious spinach and feta triangles I could never get enough of when I visited Brayden.

“I’m starting to feel used.” Brayden pretended to pout and then winked at me as he swiped one of the triangles. “You only love me for my cook.”

“I do. Guess I’ve gotten what I came for and can leave now.” As I bit into the savory pastry, I moaned. They were still warm, and it melted in my mouth.

“Not so fast. You owe me a movie night and all the dirty details about your date with the Wolfe.”

The very mention of Salvatore’s name had my heart beating a little bit faster. I tried to bite back a smile and failed.

“Wow. Check out that goofy look on your face.” Brayden leaned over to grab another triangle, and I slapped his hand away.

“Speaking of goofy faces, what’s this scruff all over yours? Trying to grow a beard or something?” I was teasing, of course, because the dark stubble that lined Brayden’s face now only made him look more handsome, the bastard. All-American in looks, with his light brown hair and matching eyes, and that perfectly sculpted body of his, he was a guy that had no problem getting what and who he wanted—and he knew how to work that like a charm.

“Don’t even think about changing the subject,” Brayden said, grabbing the platter from in front of me and forcing me to follow him into the living room, where a massive television took up one of the walls. He set the platter down on the coffee table and then flopped onto the soft leather couch. “So, you had coffee, blah blah blah, he took you back to his place, tied you up and had his way with you…”

I rolled my eyes as I took the seat beside him and leaned forward for another triangle. “It was just coffee. And it was…nice.”

“Nice? That’s not a word that would ever be attached to Salvatore Wolfe.”

“Then what would be?”

Brayden shrugged. “Hot. Sexy as fuck. Bossy and in control.”

“Yeah, I’d say all of those things too.”

“But you said you just had coffee.”

“We did.”

“Then how do you know he’s bossy?”

I thought back to the way he’d told me to stop talking and how I’d complied without even thinking. He’d done it again later in the conversation, just to further prove his point, and both times I could only think of how hot that commanding tone would be in the bedroom.

“I think that’s just his personality.”

“Hmm. So he’s a dominant outside the bedroom as well…”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Did you ask him?”

“Um… I might’ve accidentally mentioned it when we sat down. But you’re not gonna believe how we got on that subject.”

Brayden stretched his arm out along the back of the couch. “Try me.”

“He told me he’s the one who kicked me out of the Wolfe’s Den that night.”

“He did what? Why the fuck?”

I pulled up one of my legs underneath me on the couch as I faced Brayden. “Apparently, he saw me there and wanted me for himself. Can you believe that? He didn’t want anyone else near me, so bam. Had me escorted out.”

“No fucking way,” Brayden said. “He admitted that?”

“Yep. Insane, right?”

“Uh, yeah. But…kinda hot too, I guess. I mean, I wouldn’t be too pissed about it if that meant I’d end up in his bed. But you ended up having to walk home, so that’s fucked.”

“It’s not like he knew that would happen,” I said, some part of me feeling defensive on Salvatore’s behalf. “Besides, he gets a pass, since he got Pretty Baby up and running again.”

“So we know he’s good with his hands—that’s promising. And he’s not afraid to get dirty—also good.”

“And his body is unreal.”

Brayden raised a brow. “I’m sure, but how the hell do you know that?”

“It was raining the day he fixed my car,” I said, grinning as I recalled that hot visual. White shirt plastered to his chest as it flexed and—

“Ugh, I’m gonna try not to be jealous. Tell me more.”

“Well, he gave me his phone number…”

“Oh shit. So this means you’re gonna see him again.”

I shrugged, trying to play it casual, but it was all I could do not to check my phone every five seconds to see if he’d called or sent a message.

“You are soo gonna get fucked by the Wolfe. You gonna make him howl?” Brayden leaned forward and waggled his eyebrows, and then he began to mimic exactly how he thought I’d make Salvatore howl.

I burst into laughter and pushed him away. “You are whacked in the head, you know that?”

“I do, thank you.”

“We didn’t talk about any of that stuff anyway, so get your mind out of the gutter.”

“Really? What did you talk about? I’m dying to know.” He propped his head up on the arm he had on the back of the couch.

“He told me about all of his companies and charity work—”

“Charity work?” Brayden snorted.

“—and then he asked about me, and I told him about the internship I applied for at the Northwestern Museum of Natural History, and he seemed really interested that I wanted to become a curator one day.”

Brayden faked a yawn. “Yes, I’m sure the king of the underground scene was just fascinated by that. Did you tell your hot older man about all your happy childhood memories and teenage acne, too? Or maybe you mentioned the dry spell you’ve had for the past few months, because that’s the kind of thing he’d really want to know about.”

I grabbed the cushion from behind me and whacked him in the head with it.

“Aw, don’t be sad he only wants you for your body—” Brayden said, but before I could hit him again, he put his hands up. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Salvatore Wolfe doesn’t want you only for your body.”

“Thank you.”

“He also wants you for that pretty face and your mouth.”

“Brayden.” I shook my head and groaned. “Is that all you think about? Sex?”

“Sex is all any guy thinks about. It’s a fact. Embrace it. In fact, maybe you should embrace it with—”

“Salvatore,” I finished for him, and chuckled. “Yeah, yeah. If that happens, you’ll be the first to know.”

“I better fucking be, or I’ll hold these damn feta things hostage,” he said, grabbing another pastry and shoving the whole thing in his mouth. When he swallowed, he dusted his hands off and reached for the two DVDs lying on the coffee table. “Now that we’ve established you’re not entirely a pussy, which is it gonna be: Blade Runner or Die Hard?”

* * *

The insistent pounding in my head increased with every look, smile, and touch shared between the two men on the couch in the center of what I assumed was a living room.

I recognized the young man with Jesse the second I saw him: Brayden Fairchild. He had been the one to escort Jesse to the den and pay his entry fee, and as I stood in amongst the thick scrub and trees that bordered the back of the large house, I watched the two of them as they interacted.

It would be clear to any onlooker that the two of them were close. Jesse’s body language expressed his level of comfort as he sat angled toward Brayden with a smile on his face. And the easy way he conversed with him made my hands twitch.

I studied the way Jesse moved as he talked to the boy opposite him, and really, that was what they were in my world: boys playing among men. As he talked, his hands moved expressively through the air. The long line of his throat tempted me in ways I knew weren’t healthy, but then again, every second I stood outside this house, I knew I was falling further into a hole I would soon be unable to climb free of. One into which I would, eventually, drag Jesse.

I knew myself. I knew who I was under the suits. Under the polish. I had known from an early age that there was darkness in me. Something that wasn’t quite like everyone else. And over the years I had been careful to keep it concealed—until him.

Now here I was, back in the shadows, back in the darkness I was so familiar with as the rush of danger made my cock hard, and the thrill of getting closer to one who was so unsuspecting made the hunt that much more arousing.

As a loud burst of laughter came from inside the house, I saw Jesse lean over and push Brayden in the arm, and as his hands made contact with Brayden’s firm bicep, my hands clenched into fists. I hated him touching Brayden, hated the contact between him and another who wasn’t me, and as the jealousy ripped through me and had me taking a step forward, I knew I had to rein it in. An important part of the hunt was patience, and thus far I had been able to keep mine, and I would be damned if some muscled-up jock made me lose ground with my lamb.

Backing away from the house, I made sure to tread carefully, and vowed that from here on out, every decision Jesse made, though he would think it was his own, would be mine.

Every smile. Every breath. Every thought running through his pretty head. They would be for me. Because of me. Only for me.

Once I hit the shoulder of the road, I shoved my hands into the pockets of my black hoodie and hurried back to where I’d parked the Range Rover. I climbed inside, and once there, I shoved back the hood from my head. It was so dark up here when the sun finally relinquished its hold and gave in to the night. No stars could be seen with the large pines that grew all around, and as I reached across to the papers on my passenger seat, I flicked on the interior light.

I had been procrastinating over an important decision the last couple of days, but tonight I had finally decided. As the executive benefactor at the Northwestern Museum of Natural History, I had a strong say in the staff that came and went there, and it was my decision that the NMNH internship would go to one Jesse Clark. Yes… He would fit in just right in the paleontology department, and it would keep my little lamb exactly where I wanted him. Within sight and under my thumb.