Renzo didn’t sleep. He couldn’t. The shadows crept in like moving walls, closer and closer. Boxing him in as he fought to keep from leaping from the bed and away from Low’s embrace.

The bedside lamp was on, as were the overheard music. But his mind was too quiet.

This was stupid.

He wasn’t ready. But the lure of Low in his arms proved to be too much. Now he was dying. Sweat dampened his hairline and itched where Low’s skin touched his. He moved his legs, one then the other, sliding up and down on the mattress.

Breathe in.

He inhaled Low. Sweet and citrus, like lemon drops.

Their sex, too. Musky. Sexy.

Breathe out.

He closed his eyes. The shadows, they haunted him. The darkness in his head getting blacker, thicker, threatening to swallow him whole as sleep approached.

Breathe. Breathe.

His leg movements got more frantic and a whimper built in his throat. Stupid to think he could do this. Stupid to pretend he could be worthy of this. He tightened his hold on Low who hummed in his sleep, damp skin sticking to Renzo.

The panic was a flame on his chest. So hot. He gritted his teeth at the burn, eyes watering as he fought. But they came at him all at once. The darkness and the memories, dragging him toward the precipice he took so much pain to avoid.

“Mauricio.”

It was as if the darkness itself whispered his name. He trembled, biting his tongue to avoid making a sound. Hiding, crouching down, skinned knees pressed to the sharp and cold ground. Hands covering his head, he curled in on himself.

Hiding.

It never did any good.

The hand caught him by the hair, fisting it and lifting him. He screamed, flailing, skinny legs kicking out as he hung suspended. Fighting what and who he couldn’t see. The darkness hid the monster. The monster was the darkness. They were one and the same, and they had him. Tears blinded him, not that there was anything to see. He kept screaming…until the grip loosened, dropping him.

The hard fall knocked the wind out of him and something wet trickled down from his forehead to his nose, but he ignored it, scrambling to his feet. Trying to run.

That too was futile.

The hand caught him.

Dropped him again.

A game. Monster showed his enjoyment by chuckling. Goosebumps erupted. He knew what came next.

“Papai.” He cried every time. It hurt every time. He wanted to become the darkness and float away every time. “Papai.” He called for his father every time. “Papai.” Silence greeted him every time. His father never answered. His father never came for him. “Papai!”

Renzo jerked awake on a sob. “Papai.” Silence greeted him. The nightmares, that old familiar desperation, clung to him. He rolled away from Low, trying not to wake him as he crashed onto the floor and huddled against the side of the bed. The closest he could get to the lamp.

To the light.

Sweat dripped from his brow onto his knees and he held them up to his naked chest and rocked. Ragged whimpers rumbled in his throat and he bit down on his arm trying to stifle the sounds.

How could Low want him?

Dax tried to tell him, but he didn’t listen. He knew better.

Stupid. Stupid.

He stared at the lamp until it burned his eyes, until they watered. Maybe he should end it. This thing with Low, Renzo was too damaged to keep it. He should be on that bed, wrapped up in the man he’d wanted, the man he’d pursued for so long. Instead his demons had him rocking back and forth, damn near tears.

He couldn’t do this. Couldn’t—

The mattress shifted, fingers touched his neck and crept up into his hair.

“Renzo?”

He shook his head at the sleep-roughened query without looking over his shoulder. The sheets rustled and the mattress groaned. Then he felt Low’s warmth. Lips brushed Renzo’s neck, drawing a weary, shuddering sigh. The fingers in his hair scratched gently at his scalp before lightly tugging on his hair then back to the scalp again.

“It’s okay,” Low murmured at his ear. “I’ve got you.” Those magic fingers kept doing that thing to his hair and scalp, making Renzo shiver. Every time Low exhaled, his warm breath caressed Renzo’s skin. “Whatever you need.”

Renzo bowed his head, eyes closed, shoulders dropping as he let go.

Lips on his nape. The warmth of Low chasing away the chill, heating all of Renzo’s frozen corners. Thawing. Melting him. Low’s touch calmed him as he sat there, unable to do anything, struggling to shrug off the last remnants of the nightmare. Low kept him grounded, kept him connected to the moment.

To here.

To now.

He should have cut his losses, deemed it too hard of a hurdle. But he’d wanted Lowell Scott for fucking years. Didn’t matter how insane it was that he and Low had connected. He’d waited years for Low’s head to come to rest on his pillow. His past wasn’t allowed to steal it away. He’d lost too much already. Low would not be a casualty of his memories and the darkness.

Mauricio was dead, killed by someone he once loved. Tonight Renzo had the chance to build what he’d been after since he woke up inside the dumpster that cold rainy day, bleeding his life away. He wanted someone to love him again. He wanted to love. He wanted a family again.

He wanted to belong again.

Not to just anyone. His desires had been abstract until he set eyes on Low. Ever since, it was Low he saw when he managed to close his eyes and dream anything good. It was Low he saw in the midst of the light. He was surrounded by the darkness after having lived in it for so long, but in Low he saw his redemption. In Low he saw the future Mauricio would have had if he hadn’t been stolen away. A future Renzo wanted to make reality.

One step closer. But how was he supposed to get here when the memories kept him handicapped?

He touched the hand Low draped over his shoulder. He’d shared everything he could with Low and the younger man was still here. Still in Renzo’s bed. But there was still that one bomb Renzo couldn’t make himself drop. Because if he did, would Low still want him? Would he still see Renzo when he looked at him?

* * *

Curled into Renzo, Low’s body jerked as he shifted. Renzo had gotten up from the floor about an hour ago and managed to roll Low—who’d been dead to the world—away to climb back onto the bed. The instant he’d settled against the pillows, Low had practically climbed him, a leg draped over Renzo’s thigh, face buried in his chest.

He wanted to get used to this. He wanted to know what it felt like to go to bed with Low in his arms and wake the same way. Except he hadn’t slept. His eyes were heavy and burning, head groggy. But then Low lifted his head and blinked blearily at him. And it was worth it. Everything worth it, to see Low like this, face puffy and creased, sleep-clouded eyes wide.

He cracked a smile and traced one of those creases on Low’s left cheek.

“You look like you’ve never waken up with a man in your bed before.” Low grinned at him

This. Worth it. “This is the second time I’ve woken up with a Low in my bed.”

“I like your bed,” Low said.

“I like you in my bed.” A simple truth.

The playfulness disappeared from Low’s expression as he searched Renzo’s face. “How did you sleep? Did you sleep at all?”

He debated lying or making a flippant remark, but stuck with the truth. “I didn’t get much sleep, but—” He rushed to wipe that sad look from Low’s eyes. “It wasn’t as bad as it could have been. You helped.” He caught Low’s hand and brought it, palm open, to rest against his cheek. “You helped me, Low.”

“I’m glad then,” Low whispered. “Whatever you need, tell me and I’ll give it to you.” His gaze dropped from Renzo’s eyes to his mouth, and just like that Renzo’s hard night fell away and he was simply…

Hard.

Aching.

“Kiss me.” He hadn’t had to beg for anything in a long, long time, but begging came easy with Low. It wasn’t an act, either, wasn’t done for the benefit of the other person. Low pulled that reaction from him.

Renzo didn’t mind.

“Let me brush up first,” Low murmured, but he didn’t budge. His gaze didn’t move from Renzo’s mouth.

“No.” Renzo inched his head closer, stopping only when their foreheads bumped. “Kiss me.” Morning breath wasn’t keeping him from tasting Low.

Low’s fingers curved into Renzo’s chest. A little sting, enough to make him moan. Lips brushed over his, soft and sweet.

Once.

Twice.

Then Low bit his bottom lip and when Renzo’s lips parted, Low plunged in.

Fuck.

He tasted like sleep, like Low, like promises Renzo ached to break. He clutched Low, one hand on his neck, holding him still as Renzo deepened the kiss, taking the lead, soothing himself, wiping the cloying remnants of his nightmares away with Low’s tongue.

“Mmm.” Low moaned for him and that sound grabbed hold of Renzo’s balls and squeezed.

How had he managed to wait years for this?

Heads twisting, noses bumping, they tongued each other with hungry moans and desperate swipes. Low crawled over him, aligning their bodies perfectly, undulating as Renzo dropped his hands to clutch Low’s ass and squeeze.

Fuck.

He panted into Low’s mouth. Wanting. It was a fierce ache in his belly, making his grip on Low unsteady as he lifted his hips off the bed and pressed against Low. Sweet. The sweetest fucking craving.

Low pulled away first, panting, lips wet as he stared down at Renzo. “I have an appointment to see a place. I gotta take a shower and head out, otherwise I’ll be late.”

Renzo swallowed at the regret on Low’s face. “Okay.” He cleared the lust from his throat. “Go on. I have to check in with Dax anyway. Come to the club tonight?”

Low eased backward. Renzo’s fingers flexed on his ass before he released him and dropped his hands onto the bed. “Okay.” Low scrambled off the bed. With a smile over his shoulder, he disappeared into the bathroom, while Renzo tilted his face to the ceiling.

Fuck. He scrubbed a hand over his face then picked up his phone from where he’d dropped it on the floor next to the bed. He dialed a number then waited as it rang. The shower switched on in the bathroom, and he closed his eyes against images of a naked and wet Low covered in suds.

“Renzo.”

“We need to talk.”

“When?” Atta asked.

“An hour, your office.”

“Okay.”

He hung and called Dax, who answered on the first ring. “I’m here.”

Of course he was. He made himself get off the bed and grabbed his shirt from the floor. “You brought coffee?”

“I did.”

Renzo smiled at the affront in Dax’s voice. He hung up then exited the bedroom, buttoning up his shirt. Downstairs, he found Dax in the kitchen, a scowl on his face, holding two coffees.

“Did you sleep?” Dax handed over one of the coffees, and Renzo snatched it up with a grateful grunt.

“No,” he bit out after taking a gulp of the hot drink. He ignored Dax’s narrowed glare. “Low’s in the shower.” He glanced at the stairs then lowered his voice. “I have a meeting with Atta in a bit.”

The disapproval darkening Dax’s face made his thoughts about Renzo’s choices pretty clear. “He doesn’t know?”

“About me being FBI, yes. The other thing? No.”

Dax sighed. “Renzo.”

“What the fuck am I supposed to say, Dax? Huh? How do I tell him?” He shoved exasperated fingers through his hair. “Too much is at stake, for him, for me. For her.”

“This thing you want with him…” Dax shook his head. “This thing, Renzo. It won’t work if it’s shrouded in lies and secrets.”

As if he didn’t fucking know that?

“Renzo?” Low called from upstairs.

“Down here,” Renzo answered. “Dax is here too.”

“Give me five minutes,” Low told him.

Renzo turned back to Dax. Renzo knew what his friend wanted. Hell, he wanted the same thing. But he had to think about the big picture. He had to weigh the consequences with Low’s right to know. He wasn’t the only one whose life would be affected if Low found out the truth.

Footsteps pounded down the stairs then Low appeared, dressed in his clothes from the night before. He waved at Dax who handed him the other coffee.

“Shit. Thanks, man.” He strode past them to pick up his keys and wallet from the counter. “I gotta go, genkelmen.”

That accent. Seriously. Renzo followed outside and walked him over to his car. “Thank you.” He cupped Low’s jaw. “Thank you for last night.”

Low’s lips curved. “Dunno why you thanking me, but you’re welcome.” His gaze flicked down to Renzo’s mouth. “Let’s do it again. You did mention something about putting you on all fours.”

“Fuck.” Renzo exhaled roughly.

Low chuckled then kissed Renzo. Tongue delving deep, moans echoing. Too short. Not nearly enough to hold him over until the end of the day, but he cherished it all the same.

Low pulled back. “Later.” He tossed Renzo a wink then ducked into his car.

Renzo waited until Low disappeared from sight before he walked back into the house. He needed a shower and a change of clothes. Then he had to deal with Atta.