Royce stood in front of the two short steps leading to Marc’s small front porch. The air smelled like fresh-cut grass, and there were lines in his front yard indicating that the landscaper had been through in the past day to bring the yard back to perfection. Bright red impatiens filled the flower beds along the walkway, giving a burst of color. Everything looked the same and yet brighter with the arrival of spring.

It had been forty-five days since he’d last stepped into Marc’s house. It felt like it had been longer.

His stomach cramped at the thought of so much time passing since he’d last set eyes on Marc. He knew that Rowe and Andrei had stayed in contact with him. Geoffrey too. But he hadn’t let himself ask about Marc. Couldn’t let himself wonder how he was doing, if he’d managed to bridge the distance between himself and his siblings. He wouldn’t let himself think about Marc painting, creating beauty that he hid away from the rest of the world.

But most of all, he wouldn’t let himself think about Marc moving on without him. He wanted Marc to be happy, to find someone who would love him so completely that he never questioned his worth. Yet the idea that Royce couldn’t be that person was like drowning. He couldn’t breathe, the world closing in around him.

So he stood there, outside Marc’s house, palms sweating and heart pounding, unable to take a step forward and unwilling to walk away. Fuck! Why was this so hard? He’d faced plenty of assholes with guns looking to blow his brains out. He had no problem in a fight where he was outnumbered and weaponless, but this…finding the perfect words to convince Marc to forgive him for walking away, to give him another chance…

Clenching his teeth, he forced himself to take those two steps onto the porch and push the doorbell. Unfortunately, the last person he wanted to see opened the front door.

“No,” Lilah firmly said as a greeting.

“I need to talk to him.”

“No. I don’t want you anywhere near my brother. You hurt him, left him at the fucking hospital after he was nearly killed.”

“I never wanted to hurt him.”

Lilah snorted and tried to shut the door in his face, but he planted his palm in the center of the glass window, holding it open. Marc’s sister glared at him but stopped trying to close the door when it was clear that she couldn’t overpower him.

“He told me,” she said with a frustrated sigh. “Told me that you were hired as a bodyguard. That none of it was real.” She paused and shook her head. “I’ll be the first person to admit that I don’t know anything about gay relationships, but that looked real to me. He cared about you. I could see it in the way he looked at you. It was real for him.”

“It was real for me too,” Royce quickly said, voice cracking. He stepped forward, putting one foot just over the threshold, but Lilah refused to back down. He had to give her props for standing up to him. He could easily step right around her and force his way into the house, but he respected Marc’s love for his sister, and he respected her need to protect her brother.

“I know you don’t like me, but I love my brother. We’re devastated by what Richard put him through, what…what he tried to do.” Her voice became choked, and she had to clear her throat. That little catch made Royce actually look at the woman. She looked worn down to her very core with dark circles under her eyes. Her hair was in a messy bun, and she was wearing a pair of yoga pants and an oversized T-shirt. Lilah had suffered through a humiliating end to her marriage, suffocating debt, and then the attempted murder of her brother by her other brother. And despite all that, she was standing there, ready to battle him to protect her brother’s heart. Yeah, maybe he’d misread her a bit. “Marc is just getting his feet under him again. I don’t want you to hurt him more.”

“I don’t want to hurt him either. We were happy together. I want to make him happy again. That’s it.”

Lilah looked away from him, her eyes falling to the hand still holding the edge of the door. Her eyebrows drew together as dark slashes over her eyes, reminding him of Marc’s sharp features. He could see her weakening, and a little bud of hope started to grow. If he could get Lilah to listen to him when she hated him, then maybe he could at least get Marc to listen to him.

“He deserves to be happy,” she said in a low voice.

“That’s all I want. Let me talk to him for just a few minutes. If he doesn’t want to ever see me again, I swear I’ll never bother him again.”

Frowning, Lilah stepped backward so that Royce could step into the foyer. He glanced around the entrance, and a small part of him was relieved to see that nothing had changed. The bright colors, the eclectic collection of art drawing the eye through the house, the warm woods and neutral paints to offset the art—he loved this house because every inch of it made him think of Marc and their weeks together.

“Is he up in his studio?” he asked, pointing toward the stairs leading to the second floor.

Lilah shook her head as she led him toward the back of the house through the kitchen. Royce had stopped at the gallery earlier in the day to find out from a very terse Toni that Marc was not expected at the gallery that day. She wouldn’t confirm whether he was even in Cincinnati or not. He’d begun to fear that Marc had left the city and gone to one of his other galleries so that he could escape his memories of Royce. Not that he had a problem with chasing Marc around the globe. He’d empty his savings and max out every one of his credit cards, beg his friends for a loan if he had to, but he would talk to Marc.

Opening the door to the covered back patio, Lilah motioned for him to precede her. Royce stepped back outside and then turned to look at the small woman, confused. “I don’t understand.”

“He moved his work back out to the guest house. It’s his studio again.”

“You moved out?”

Lilah looked away from him, unable to hold his gaze. “I moved into one of the spare bedrooms in the main house, so I could keep a closer watch on him. He also needed the guest house back to create.”

“I’m glad he’s had you. You’re a good sister.”

“No, I haven’t been, but I’m trying to be a better one.”

Royce nodded. There was nothing he could say. He hadn’t been a fan of Lilah when they first met. She didn’t treat her brother well, but he was glad that she seemed to be genuinely trying to make amends. He knew firsthand how hard change was and how rare it was to get a second chance.

Just as he started to walk toward the guest house at the opposite end of the property, Lilah called out to him. “And don’t you dare tell him that I told you where he was!”

A small smile lifted the corner of his mouth as he looked over his shoulder at Lilah. “Deal.”

She sniffed once and promptly shut the door. No, he definitely wasn’t forgiven for hurting Marc, but she was willing let him try and make Marc happy again.

Shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans, Royce briskly walked across the green lawn to the quaint two-story guest house that looked like a cottage with its high peaked roof and white clapboard siding. The design of the guest house was nothing like the main house in terms of style or model, but Royce could easily guess why Marc liked it. The front of the house was almost entirely filled with windows from floor to roof. Royce could only imagine the amount of natural light that poured in as he worked.

Royce had never been inside the guest house. Marc had never allowed anyone from Ward Security to invade his sister’s privacy, regardless of how little she seemed to care for his privacy. All security measures, including Royce, were limited to the main house and Marc’s physical person.

Stepping onto the porch, Royce surged forward, heart skipping a beat when he noticed that the two front doors were thrown open. His mind didn’t even have time to conjure up possible horrible fates for Marc because he found the artist standing barefoot the in the middle of the living room, wearing a pair of old jeans and a T-shirt. He was splattered and smeared with various colors of paint. His hair looked longer than he usually wore it and was in disarray as if he’d been running his fingers through it as he worked. He was a complete mess, and Royce was sure he’d never looked so wonderful.

Marc turned from the massive canvas he had leaning against the wall to grab a new brush but stopped as he reached for it, his eyes landing on Royce. Emotions flowed so clearly across his face. Royce had always been able to read him. Marc couldn’t hide anything, and that moment was no different. For a split second, his lips parted, and his eyes widened in joy, but it crumbled in a heartbeat under crushing pain and then anger. When he straightened, his empty hand dropping down to his side, Marc managed to wipe all emotion from his face.

“Leave,” Marc bit out.

“We need to talk.”

“We’ve got nothing to talk about. You made that clear in the hospital almost two months ago.” Marc turned away and marched to the kitchen.

Frowning, Royce followed him, his steps slowing as he crossed in front of the canvas Marc has been working on. It was easily five feet tall. The colors looked as if they’d been slung haphazardly onto the canvas but stepping back, it was more like an impressionist painting as the colors merged to create a bigger image. An eye…a jaw…a smile. He was looking at himself, and yet not himself. It was stunning. It wasn’t just that Marc had created a likeness of Royce, but he’d captured an emotion, a moment so perfect, that it took Royce’s breath away. He’d always thought that Marc’s work was good, but this…this was amazing.

“You’ve lost weight,” Marc said.

Royce jerked his gaze from the painting to find Marc standing in the kitchen, a bottle of water clutched in both hands. He didn’t look happy that he’d spoken—as if he wanted to take back the words.

“I have. I lost my appetite when—”

“You need to leave,” Marc’s hard voice cut him off, unwilling to hear Royce had suffered since leaving Marc in that hospital bed.

“Michael died because of me, because of what I did,” Royce bluntly announced before Marc could start pushing him toward the door. “I loved him. Bought a ring. I was planning to propose. Nothing too cheesy, but there was this park that he loved. I was waiting for the cherry blossoms to bloom. I was going to take him to his favorite park with a blanket and picnic basket.”

“Royce, don’t…”

He shook his head, balling his hands into fists at his sides. His throat felt like it was being shredded as he swallowed back the tears. He had loved Michael, more than he’d ever thought possible. But the sharp pain of his death had dulled with help from Marc. The amazing man standing in the kitchen had taught him that he was worthy of love and friends.

“But he died before I could propose.” Royce sucked in a deep breath and forced himself to meet Marc’s gaze. He deserved to know the truth. “Before I was hired by Ward Security, I worked as a shylock. I was angry at my mother for taking me away from my family. I was angry at my father and brother for dying. I needed something that gave me an outlet for my anger. A loan shark and bookie heard about me and offered me a job. I would track down people who owed him money and beat them up. I broke bones. I put people in the hospital for money. The pay was good, but I hated myself. The whole thing was horrible. After we bought the townhouse, we agreed to save my money with the plan of getting out and taking my mom somewhere else. He was my everything.”

“Did he know what you did?”

“Yes. It almost destroyed us when I told him, but I had to be honest with him. He deserved to know the truth. I agreed to quit when we had money saved up. Enough for us to leave with my mom and start over.”

“But he died…”

Royce nodded. “I had to get rough with a gambler who owed my boss more than a hundred grand. I got a chunk of the cash and left the loser bleeding on his kitchen floor. What I didn’t know was that the loser had a powerful brother with the local mob. He sent men after me, but…but they found Michael instead.”

“They killed him?”

“No,” he croaked. Royce paused and cleared his throat. “They beat him badly. In the end, it was his heart that gave out. He had a previously undiagnosed heart condition. It was all too much.”

Marc stood silent for nearly a minute. Royce watched as his full lips pressed into a hard, thin line. The plastic bottle in his hands crackled loudly in the silent house. When Marc finally looked up at him, all he saw was rage.

“This is fucking bullshit!”

“I’m not lying!”

“No, you decided to leave me because of my heart!” Marc shouted back at him. “That’s it, isn’t it? The whole reason you finally told me about Michael and his weak heart. You’re terrified that something in your life is going to come for me and kill me because of my heart.”

“Yes,” Royce said on a soft sigh. “I don’t want you to die. Not because of me. I—”

“Fuck you, Royce Karras! Fuck you!” Marc slammed the water bottle on the counter and took two steps toward him. Anger brought a red flush to Marc’s pale cheeks and his eyes were bright with unshed tears. “You don’t get to decide who I get to be with in my life. You don’t get to decide the risks I can and can’t take. I might let you boss me around in the bedroom, but that’s fucking it. I’m sorry you lost Michael, but he knew his risks the moment you told him what your job was. And you know what? He chose to stay with you.”

“That choice got him killed.”

“Yeah, but at least he got to be happy with you during the time you had together. You wouldn’t even let me choose to be happy with you. I got dumped at the hospital and told I was just a job.”

“You were never just a job.” Royce took a step closer and Marc just glared at him. “I love you. I fell in love with you again and again every single day we were together. You bring beauty and warmth and compassion to this world. You make me feel worthwhile after I’ve spent years convinced that I am worthless. I’m sorry I hurt you. I have never wanted to hurt you. Only keep you safe. Make you happy.”

“And now it’s my chance to make a choice?”

“Yes.”

Marc stared at him for several seconds before he took a sharp breath and nodded. “Leave.”

Royce staggered backward, stunned. He pressed his hand against his chest, half expecting to find an open wound where Marc had stabbed him through the heart. The pain was excruciating, he could barely draw a breath.

“Marc, please.”

“You need to leave. You don’t respect me. You don’t respect my feelings or my ability to make choices for my life. Leave now.”

“I do. I made a mistake. I was terrified of losing you. Terrified of being the reason you’re not alive. Terrified of bringing all the darkness and evil that follows me around into your life. I’m sorry. I love you.”

“Please, leave.” Marc’s voice wavered but his expression was resolute.

Slowly, Royce turned back toward the front door, his heart shattering into pain-filled shards. His gaze dragged over the painting Marc had been working on, the joy in his image seeming to almost mock him. So many memories came flooding back of times that Marc got him to laugh and so damn easily. He paused, unable to get himself to take another step. He looked over the open living room. Any furniture that might have filled the space had been moved out. There were easels holding other paintings and a long, paint-splattered table with an array of paints, brushes, and other tools of Marc’s craft.

He wanted to memorize Marc in this space. It was where he belonged. At home with his art, surrounded by it. Standing there, he finally noticed the other paintings. More than two dozen of them. Different styles and colors, but they all had one thing in common: Royce was the subject. There was a landscape that looked like it was the view from the Italian bed and breakfast with Royce’s back to the painter as he watched the sunrise. There were paintings of his body as he stretched out naked in bed and others just of his tattoos. All the paintings were of Royce.

“You’ve been trying to purge me,” Royce said, his back still to Marc. “Forty-five days and dozens of paintings and you still can’t.”

“I love you.”

Royce wanted to turn around and face Marc, but he was afraid to move. Those three words he’d been dying to hear. “Don’t make me leave.”

“Love isn’t enough if you don’t respect my intelligence to make sound decisions for my life. To at least talk to me first before arbitrarily deciding what’s best for me.”

“I do. I will. Just give me a second chance. Let me prove how much I love you. Show you that I can be worthy of you.”

Royce stood perfectly still, waiting for Marc to either order him away again or say something.…

The sharp slap of bare feet smacking against the hardwood floor was Royce’s only warning. He turned in time to catch Marc as his longer body slammed against his. Marc’s mouth instantly covered his, swallowing down his moan of relief. He tasted like heaven, and Royce would never be able to get enough.

“Forgive me. Love you. Love you so damn much. Never letting go of you again,” Royce repeated over and over again as he kissed Marc. The artist’s body melted into Royce’s and they were still not close enough. It had been too long since he’d last touched his soft skin, felt him shudder with pleasure.

“I love you, Royce. I’ve never stopped,” Marc murmured. His strong fingers dug into the muscles of Royce’s back, keeping them pressed tightly together.

Running his hands down Marc’s back, Royce grabbed the edge of his shirt and pulled it up. That frantic tug was enough to prod Marc to release Royce enough to start pulling at Royce’s clothes. They separated only enough to tear each other’s clothes off. Ripping material and frantic pants filled the room before they came back together. Marc’s nimble fingers danced across Royce’s too visible ribs. Sad eyes met Royce’s, and he wanted to look away from the questions there.

“I didn’t want to go on without you,” Royce simply said.

Marc smiled slowly, lifting one of his hands to trace his index finger along Royce’s lower lip. “I’m not going anywhere without you. Never again.”

Grinning, Royce nipped Marc’s finger before sucking it into his mouth. He laved the pad of his finger with his tongue, loving how Marc’s pupils dilated with pleasure and a throaty groan left his parted lips.

“Fuck, Royce. I need you.”

Royce released Marc’s finger and then carefully lowered him to the floor. He couldn’t be in more agreement. Kneeling between Marc’s legs, he ran his hands up his thighs, over his hips to his stomach, purposefully skipping over Marc’s straining cock. He loved watching his lean muscles dance and jump under his beautiful skin, but he couldn’t play. They were both panting and leaking, too damn close already. It had been so long since they’d last been together. Royce was in tune to Marc’s body, still. He knew they wouldn’t be able to manage slow and gentle. Not this time.

“Don’t tease,” Marc snarled. “And you better have some supplies.”

With a grin, Royce grabbed his pants and pulled out his wallet. He had one packet of lube and a condom. Something he’d added to his wallet after he and Marc had started having sex since they’d been prone to spur-of-the-moment sessions against any surface they could find. He wanted to always be prepared so that he never had to say no to Marc.

Marc watched as Royce rolled on the condom, slowly stroking his own cock. He loved the way Marc’s eyes moved over his body as if he was memorizing everything he saw so he could recreate it later in loving detail on a canvas. Yes, he’d lost too many pounds, and he was too thin, but Marc looked at him with complete love. He wanted to always be worthy of this man, to be worthy of his love.

“I love you,” Royce said. He couldn’t stop saying it. Didn’t want to. Marc’s smile grew wider and he glowed with the words as if they lit a light in his soul bright enough for the whole world to see.

“I love you too.”

Royce snatched up the little packet of lube and smeared some on his dick before pressing some carefully into Marc’s opening. Marc hissed softly, lifting his hips as Royce eased a finger inside of him.

“Oh love, let’s skip the whole stretching part. Need you now.”

Royce’s smile widened at the endearment. It was the first time Marc had ever used one, and it sounded wonderful rolling off Marc’s tongue. “I don’t want you too sore. I plan on living inside of you for the next week.”

Marc tensed and lifted his head, confusion pulling his eyebrows low over his dark eyes. “Only the next week?”

“I’m on vacation for the next week. I plan to be physically connected to you every day that I’m not at work.” As he spoke, he withdrew his finger and added a little more lube before pressing two inside of Marc. A low moan echoed through the house and Marc moved with him, taking him deeper.

“Now. Oh God, now!”

Royce nodded. His hands were shaking as he lined himself up and slowly pushed into Marc. They both moaned in pleasure. The heat seared Royce while tight muscles gripped him, pulling him in deeper. He was already riding the edge of his orgasm. No matter how badly he wanted to stretch this out, to linger inside Marc so that the man he loved was panting and begging, he couldn’t. He blinked down at Marc, loving the wide smile that spread across his face.

“Hard and fast, love. Make me feel every inch of you because I’m not going to last.”

Royce could only nod as he set them on a brutal pace. Fingers dug into Marc’s hips, holding him in place with enough force to leave behind bruises as he slung in and out of him. Marc shouted, begging for it harder, faster, as his hand moved on his cock.

Sweat glistened on Marc’s long body. His head was thrown back, his muscles in his neck straining and trembling, just before he finally shouted. Thick ropes of semen covered Marc’s stomach while his body clamped down on Royce. The perfect moment of joy tipped Royce over the edge. His orgasm ripped through him like lightning, leaving him gasping as he filled the condom.

With his last bit of strength, he gathered Marc in his arms and rolled onto his side. Arms and legs were tangled together so that it was difficult to determine where one person began and the other ended. Royce buried his face in Marc’s neck, his entire body trembling from both the orgasm and relief.

“Never letting you go again,” Royce said in a low, choked voice.

“You will never need to,” Marc whispered.

He felt Marc shift, his head moving, before his entire body shook with laughter. Royce lifted his head to find Marc looking up. He twisted and found that they were laying naked on the hard floor, semen and smears of paint across their bodies, in front of the doors still thrown open.

“We really have turned into a pair of exhibitionists,” Marc said with a laugh. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

“Maybe I want the world to see how much I love you.”

Marc chuckled. “You’re willing to share me with the world?”

Royce pretended to think about it for a moment before frowning. “They can look, but no touching. Only I get to touch.”

“I’m good with that as long as I’m the only one who gets to touch you.”

“That can be arranged.” Royce leaned closer, brushing his lips across Marc’s in a gentle kiss. “I belong to you. Only you.”

Marc opened his mouth to speak, but Lilah’s pained shout cut him off. “Oh, for fuck’s sake! Come on, guys! I totally support your relationship, but can you at least put clothes on?”

They looked up to find Lilah stomping down off the front porch and stalking back toward the house. Their laughter exploded from the house and followed her across the yard.

“Poor Lilah,” Marc said as soon as he could draw a breath.

“I have a feeling that this will come back to haunt me over the holidays.”

Marc’s gaze slowly danced over his face, tracing lines. Royce watched the laughter drain from Marc’s eyes as he stared at Royce. “Do you know what I see when I look at you?”

“No,” he whispered.

“I see a good, caring man trying to fight back darkness in a hard world. He accepts that he’s made bad decisions in the past, and he’s still fighting to remain that good man. You’ve always been worthy of me. From that first day we met.”

Royce didn’t realize that a tear had slipped from the corner of his eye until Marc wiped it away with his thumb. Marc’s words were a balm for his soul, leaving him feeling lighter than he had in years.

“And I’d like the chance to make some good decisions…and maybe a few bad ones…with you,” Marc continued with a shaky smile.

“I’d like that very much.” Royce leaned in the last couple of inches separating them, capturing Marc’s lips in a searing kiss. He broke off the kiss because the hard floor and cool spring breeze blowing in through the open doors was starting to grow more uncomfortable. But he had to ask, “When you say bad decisions, you’re talking things like sex on uncomfortable surfaces, right? No more lost paintings.”

Marc’s grin grew. “Well, I am pretty confident that I know the location of that lost Vermeer.”

“No.”

“We could just give Angelo a call—”

“Definitely not.”

“And we can be in Barcelona in less than twelve hours.”

“Spain?”

“For a start, to talk to another collector I know, then we’d leave for Istanbul.”

Royce’s laughter echoed through the house, bouncing off the ceiling and flying out the open doors. Life with Marc would never be dull, and he welcomed it.