Drayton stood by the window and stared out into the city below from his top floor office building. People crowded the busy streets, hurrying at the crosswalks and sprinting to and from shops for coffee and breakfast sandwiches. He loved to watch the early morning commuters in their routine. Sometimes, he’d practice reading people, trying to figure out what the man in the blue shirt would do when he spotted the cop giving him a parking ticket…or what the brunette woman in the brown pantsuit would do if she had any idea the guy sitting alone at the small round table stared at her, as he did every morning.

Sometimes, she’d stand in line with another man or woman, obvious coworkers from their matching attire. Today, she stood in line, chatting with a man wearing brown slacks and a crème-colored shirt. He’d been there with her several times before. It was either him or the blonde who always seemed to wear her hair in a bun.

He wondered if the guy would ever stand and go talk to her. He wondered what the woman would do if he did. They followed this routine for weeks. Why would today be any different?

The man stood from the table and straightened his suit, pitching his drink in the nearby wastebasket before walking toward them.

Drayton straightened, anxious to see if today would be the day the man finally made contact.

Maybe she’d shy away from his advances, play the games most couples often played during the dating dance. Or maybe she’d slap the shit out of him for whatever perverted comment he made.

He’d never been able to read people, a skill Vann seemed to have in spades.

The man approached and leaned in, getting their attention. The man gestured with his hands and relaxed his stance. They smiled, laughed, and then…

Drayton frowned.

The man sat with the other man at a free table while the woman walked away.

He sighed. He’d never get this shit right. And his gaydar was obviously defective.

He turned away from the window and picked up the file on his desk. One of these days, he’d figure out how to read people. Until then, he’d focus on the things he knew: math, equations, solving problems, and finding answers. He’d leave all the people riddles and touchy-feely stuff to Mia and Taylor. They had a gift in that area, just as Vann did. And he trusted them implicitly, especially when it came to issues with his employees.

He’d focus on contract negotiations and business strategies. Success in those areas required precision, attention to detail, rational thought, statistical and financial analysis—all effortless skills he could accomplish in his sleep. But he relied on Taylor and Mia for their cause and effect analysis of the human psyche, to tell him how one of his suggested contract changes could strike a person’s ego or spark some personal warfare he was unprepared to battle.

Regardless of what others thought, he didn’t enjoy pissing people off. He’d heard the rumors from others in the industry describing him as cold and insensitive. That was utter bullshit. If he were the heartless bastard they painted him to be, he wouldn’t care about their comments. But he did. More than he wanted to admit.

He guarded his privacy, staying out of social media and avoiding interviews. He’d offer a quote to a journalist of a science or automotive piece, but never a photograph. He saw, firsthand, how that type of attention affected people. His father had been obsessed with what people thought of his image, always appearing in some casual mention in the society section of the paper. One tiny negative comment in passing always resulted in a late night out and too many days of irritability for the family. And his mother… She craved the attention and always endeavored for more with each article or photograph that appeared.

But that type of social prestige and greed resulted in her downfall, ultimately landing her in prison with multiple consecutive sentences.

Drayton sighed. People were the variables in the formula. And the solution on how to intermingle with them often eluded him. So he chose the safer route and focused on building the company and working on the next innovation.

He sat at his desk, landing on his chair with a deep exhale. The one person he could effortlessly read had scared the crap out of him the night before. He pinched the bridge of his nose and blew out a shaky breath. His father and what had happened that night had left a scar on Vann—on both his face and soul. He had never seen Vann so vulnerable, so devastated with pain. Drayton was thankful he didn’t remember much of anything from what had happened the night of the attack. He remembered telling Vann to hide until his father made his nightly rounds. Vann stayed inside the closet where he usually hid until he was able to sneak into Drayton’s bed for the night. But his father had taken longer than usual that evening, probably letting off some steam after their loving family dinner where Drayton had corrected him—an act of absolute atrocity in the Delereux household—then had come out.

His parents weren’t happy the family tree wouldn’t sprout another branch.

But he never would have imagined his father would beat him while he slept. Ignore him, reprimand him, attempt to brainwash him into thinking he was mistaken…sure, he could imagine his father doing all those things. But not trying to beat or kill him because of the hold society had on him and the whispers from his rich circles.

More proof Drayton sucked at reading people. He hated how Vann had been the one cursed that night—with a haunting memory etched in his mind and face and a permanent record that would follow him forever.

Vann didn’t deserve that. He didn’t deserve any of the bullshit life always seemed to hand him. Yet, somehow, Vann always found a way to make it out of the mud of despair. He’d emerge with a little wear, but always found a way to move forward with his strength and resilience.

But it tore at Drayton’s soul that he had been the cause of that lingering pain in Vann.

He reached for his ringing cell phone, thankful for the distraction from his dark thoughts.

“Hey,” he answered.

“Don’t beat yourself up about last night.”

Drayton sighed into the phone. Fricken Vann could still read him like a building-size billboard. “I’m not.”

“Bullshit. I know you are. We can’t change what happened that night. So I have to find a way to deal with this stuff. I had a talk with Matt. He’s got a counselor who comes by the house a few times a month. He’s calling her to ask if she can swing by the house this afternoon.”

“I’m sorry,” Drayton said, running his fingers through his hair.

“Don’t be. You’re alive and we’re together. I’ll work through everything else. I just wanted to make sure you knew I was okay.”

Drayton exhaled a shaky breath. Vann wasn’t a romantic, but somehow, he always knew exactly what Drayton needed to hear.

“What were you doing when I called?”

“Looking out the window of my office.”

“It’s seven o’clock. In. The. Morning.”

“Yeah.”

“I thought I was going to catch you before you headed out. I didn’t think you’d already be at work.”

Drayton spun around to look out the window, enjoying the surprise call and the calmness that flowed through his body, knowing Vann sounded more in control than he had last night. “Don’t sound so shocked. You’re up already.”

“But my ass is still in bed.”

Drayton bit his lip. “Oh yeah?” He closed his eyes, a vivid image coming to mind. The sight of a younger version of Vann lying in bed, with his round, bare ass in the air and his legs and arms draped possessively over Drayton.

“Uh-huh. And guess what I’m doing?”

A stream of images quickly followed of Vann cupping his balls, tugging on them, and moaning as he stroked himself. A groan escaped Drayton. He shifted in the chair and winced. Damn. It didn’t take much to spark his imagination.

“Guess?” Vann said, his voice holding a hint of tease in his tone.

“Are you sliding your hand up and down your hard dick?” Drayton asked. He opened his eyes and licked his lips, leaning his head back against the leather headrest.

“No. I’m getting ready to go back to sleep. Talk to you later.”

Drayton couldn’t control the bubble of laughter that rose in his throat when the line went dead, ending the call. Fucking tease. He was glad the playful side of Vann hadn’t disappeared. And it seemed he still wasn’t a morning person after all this time.

A smile lingered on his lips as he remembered all those mornings he’d had to wake Vann from the dead of sleep to get him out of bed before his parents woke.

He glanced over his shoulder out the window. He spotted the two guys still sitting together at the coffee shop table, smiling at each other. He couldn’t help the growing grin on his face. That’s how it all starts.

Drayton might not be good at reading people, but he knew some relationships ebbed and flowed with good times and bad. His relationship with Vann had always flowed smoothly and, because they were together, always emerged much stronger from whatever life threw their way.

Their formula had been inked and etched. He and Vann, two constants together, equating to infinity. Drayton wanted the life together they had been denied. And he’d do everything in his power to make sure that would finally happen.

Hours later, Drayton reached out, wrapping his fingers around Vann’s hand, pulling him off the back porch bench. “C’mon. I’ve been sitting in my office all day. Let’s go for a walk until curfew.”

Vann eagerly stood, following closely behind. “Does our perimeter walk include a blow job?”

Drayton threw his head back and let out a huge laugh. He wouldn’t deny he hadn’t stopped thinking about that night. “Ryan and Ben are home. I don’t feel like sharing you.”

“Damn, I forgot about them. Ben’s probably doing his stare thing.” Vann quickly spun around and stared up at the second floor of the house. “Busted.”

Drayton stopped and turned, seeing the sway of the sheer material of the second-floor hallway curtain. He pulled Vann along, resuming their stroll around the halfway house lot. “Did you talk to the counselor?”

Vann nodded. He kicked the tip of his boot into the dirt as they walked. “She gave me some tips on how to manage things if something like that happens again. Hopefully, it won’t.”

“It’s a lot to take in. You’re still adjusting.”

He nodded again.

“You can talk to me, you know?”

“I know. It’s just…” Vann looked off to the side as if gathering his thoughts.

“You don’t have to guard your words with me.”

Vann stopped and turned to face him. “How can you read me so well but you can’t read other people?”

Drayton shrugged. He had asked himself that same question a million times since they’d met and could only come to one conclusion. “You’re the only one I let in and I know that works both ways.”

“Why me?” Vann chewed his lip. “What did I do to deserve that?”

“Because you’re you. And I wouldn’t be me without you.”

“I think you’re just saying all kinds of special words to get another blow job.”

Drayton chuckled and pulled Vann into a hug, holding him close, enjoying the quiet moment. He ran his hand up and down Vann’s back, sighing when Vann pressed a kiss to his neck. Vann might claim to not be a romantic, but Drayton always felt loved and protected, as if his well-being was the most critical thing in the world. “Why were you by the lake that day?”

Vann pulled away and cocked his head.

“The day we met.” Drayton slid his hands down Vann’s back and cupped his ass, wanting to keep him close. “I never asked you how you knew those guys were there with me.”

“I saw them following you. I had to make sure you were okay.”

A slow smile spread across his face. If Vann had followed the guys, then that meant he had been watching him. “My guardian angel.”

“Hardly. More like the fucked-up kid who didn’t want anyone messing with you.” Vann grabbed Drayton by the tie and pulled him an inch away from his face. “I wanted to be the only guy messing with you.”

Drayton leaned in for a quick but tender teasing kiss.

They continued their walk as Vann talked about his day at the diner. Joy burst from every pore as he spoke about working with the owners and interacting with the customers. He beamed with enthusiasm, moving his arms around as he retold the details of his day.

An overwhelming amount of happiness ballooned in Drayton’s chest. This was exactly what Vann had wanted growing up—to interact with people without judgement. He’d never asked for much, only wanting people to speak to him and laugh with him…not at him. He wanted to earn people’s respect and always appreciated the tiniest of things, never taking anything for granted.

Yet, growing up, he had been judged in his father’s image. And everyone assumed the “bad boy” with the ripped, worn shirts and holed jeans had been the one who’d instigated another rumble and deserved each resulting bruise or cut lip he’d received.

No one knew the truth.

And no one had cared enough to ask.

Vann had always been on his own, fighting an uphill battle, struggling at every step.

But now, Drayton was going to make sure Vann had a fighting chance. He’d stand by his side, right along with him until he reached the top of that hill. “I’ve got a question for you.”

“Shoot.”

“If you had all the money in the world available, what would you buy?”

Vann chuckled. “What I want isn’t for sale.” He quickly sobered and fidgeted with the buttons on Drayton’s shirt. “I just want you. I can deal with anything else.”

Drayton sighed. How did this man always know exactly what to say and when to say it? And sometimes, it was the tiniest of things he’d say or do at precisely the right time that always seemed to settle Drayton’s nerves or give him a jolt of enough strength and determination to push through anything.

“What are you thinking?” Vann asked, pulling him from his thoughts.

Drayton wrapped his arms around Vann’s waist. “I’m thinking about how amazing you are.”

A glimmer of playfulness sparked in his amber eyes. “Keep talking like that and I’m going to make sure Ben gets one hell of a show to pique his curiosity.”

“You’re amazing, kind-hearted, sexy, strong, and smart—”

Vann slammed his mouth against Drayton, nearly knocking him on his ass. Drayton slid his hands inside the back of Vann’s jeans, groaning when his palms met with two lean globes of muscled cheeks. Strong fingers fisted in his hair, yanking his head back.

“Don’t ever cut your hair short,” Vann growled in his ear. “You’re a hell of a lot stronger so I need the leverage.”

A moan rose in his throat as Vann slid his teeth along the column of his neck. He was going to have a mark in the morning.

After having missed so much for so long, he welcomed every kiss, bite, and grope he could get.