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Marc was silent long enough to make him turn around.
He stared at Royce, his hands on his hips. “I’m torn. On one hand, I would like it if they couldn’t all come and go as they please, but on the other, I’m just not sure about any of this anymore.”
Royce’s fingers tightened on his bag. “Not sure about what?”
“That fire alarm was some kind of prank. And I’m starting to wonder if I’m being paranoid and if everything has been a kind of cruel joke.”
“Cutting your fucking brake line and messing with your heart meds? Jokes?” He dropped the bag, strode to Marc, and grabbed his left hand, feeling like shit when Marc flinched, and he realized it was his hurt hand. Fuck. He held up that hand, running his fingers over the healing wound. “This is not a joke, Marc. You could have died. I have no idea what the fire alarm was about, but the rest of the things that have happened to you were potentially deadly.”
Marc tugged on his hand ineffectually. “But nothing has happened in the week you’ve been here, and I’m beginning to feel like I’m wasting your time. You could be protecting someone who really needs it.”
Royce let go of his hand, wrapped his fingers around hard biceps, and tugged him closer. Lowering his voice, he made sure Marc was looking back into his eyes. “You’re sure your medication was switched out, right?”
Marc nodded.
“You’re sure there were nuts in your food? In this house?”
Marc nodded again, but his gaze had started to roam over Royce’s face, and damned if he didn’t start to lean in closer, his body going pliant, his breaths coming faster.
Royce swallowed hard as his dick reacted. Fuck, did the man even know that he exuded submission from his very pores? “Missing EpiPens and cut brake lines are no pranks either. You say a week like that’s a long time. If anything, it’s not even close to enough because with my presence here, we’ve thrown this person, or persons, off.”
Blue eyes shot back up to his. “You think it could be more than one of them?”
The sheer agony that flashed through Marc’s features managed to crack through a wall Royce had spent years strengthening. His fingers tightened more, without him even realizing it, until Marc sucked in a soft breath and dropped his gaze to Royce’s mouth.
“The way you’re looking at me,” Royce whispered, unable to disguise the hint of anger in his voice. It came from his utter inability to resist. “You have to stop.”
“I can’t,” he whispered back, staring at Royce’s lips. “I know what I said in my office, but I didn’t mean it. I want you.”
“This is a dangerous game you’re playing.” He narrowed his eyes. “I’m not an easy man. Not a…gentle man.”
“It’s not a game.” Marc slid his hands up Royce’s chest. “And gentle is the last thing I want.”
Royce’s eyes snapped shut as he fought the most animalistic urge he’d ever felt surge through his entire body. He wanted his hands and his mouth all over this man, consequences be damned. He jerked him close, felt a rush of hot breath over his lips, and he tried to gather what was left of his control. “I’m not looking for anything more than a fuck.”
“Neither am I,” Marc breathed into his mouth. “This is happening, Royce. I want you to fuck me. Bad. Stay right here.” He leaned in and bit Royce’s lower lip, sucked it into his mouth, then let it go with a pop. “Don’t move while I grab a quick shower.”
He started to walk away, but Royce clutched his arm and tugged him back, locking his eyes with startled blue ones. “Just a reminder. Like I told you before, I call the shots. I like calling the shots. So hurry.”
The shiver that wracked Marc’s frame was so subtle, he would have missed it if he hadn’t been paying such close attention. And that wasn’t the only thing. A hint of vulnerability, of unease, flashed over his features. There and gone so fast, it gave Royce pause as he wrestled with the simultaneous needs to fuck and to comfort. This comfort thing he kept feeling was a real problem—one he had decided to never feel again—so he shoved it away, let go of Marc, and began to slowly unbutton his shirt.
That jump-started Marc into motion. He disappeared into the master bathroom, and the shower sounded.
Royce kicked off his shoes and slowly took off his clothes, anticipation blazing through him. He knew, he just knew, that Marc was going to feel magnificent under him. He draped his jacket, shirt, and slacks over the chaise, and sat, eyes still locked on the bathroom door as he removed his socks. He rose and slipped off his boxers, then stood in the middle of the room. He’d never once been tempted to sleep with a client, and he knew this wasn’t his best idea, but he could no longer stop this from happening any more than he could stop breathing.
