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And then Royce pulled away. There was surprise in his haunting hazel eyes for a moment before he could hide it. “Need to clean up,” he mumbled a second before he pulled his body free of Marc’s. He couldn’t stop the soft hiss escaping. Soreness was sinking in. Marc’s body had been deliciously used and battered, but he ached deep now. It had been way too long since he’d had regular sex.
He closed his eyes, so he didn’t have to watch Royce walk away. The sound of his footsteps across the marble bathroom was followed by the sound of running water. He needed to get up as well. He didn’t want to shower, but he needed to clean off. Hell, he needed to soak in the tub for a while, but he was so damn tired. All he wanted was to fall asleep wrapped around Royce.
His eyes jerked open again when the mattress dipped next to his leg. He’d drifted off and hadn’t heard Royce’s return. The sexy man was now kneeling beside him holding a washcloth while a towel was draped over his shoulder. Marc gathered enough energy to smile and reach for the washcloth, but Royce batted his hand away before he proceeded to wipe away the semen that was drying on his stomach. Only then did he hand the soft towel over to Marc to dry off while Royce moved between Marc’s legs. Marc watched him, confused, as Royce carefully folded the warm washcloth. He jerked in surprise when he placed it against his ass, soothing his sore entrance and muscles.
“I was rough,” Royce said.
“Trust me, you weren’t. At least, nowhere near as rough as I’ve had. And you’re certainly the first—” Marc stopped himself from saying more. But it was already too late judging by Royce’s narrowed gaze. Fuck, he was too damn relaxed. He should have kept his mouth shut.
“First for what?”
Marc looked away from Royce. He didn’t want to answer.
“Marc. Tell me.”
“First…to do this,” he admitted with a wave of his hand. He couldn’t meet Royce’s gaze anymore.
No one had ever taken care of him. The rough, brutal partners had always taken a joy in leaving him in a heap, bloody, bruised, and splattered with their jizz. No one cared if he had the strength to pick himself up and pull himself together. That was his problem. Even with the random partners he’d picked up over the past few years, it had been just a bit of pleasure and then they went their separate ways.
“Look at me.”
Marc took a deep breath and slowly drew his eyes back up to Royce’s face. It was only when he was looking at him that Royce continued speaking.
“No more of that shit. You’re worth so much more than those bastards. You deserve better.”
A small smile teased his lips. “So do you.”
Royce wrapped the wet cloth in the towel and tossed it over the side of the bed. He huffed a soft laugh. “What I deserve is sleep. You’ve worn my old ass out.”
“Then get your old ass in this bed, so we can sleep.” Marc said it, fully expecting Royce to turn him down, making excuses about how it was better that he stayed on the chaise. But Royce surprised him again by nodding and reaching to pull down the duvet.
Once the lamp was out, Royce pulled Marc close so that his long limbs were draped across his slighter body. They both sighed at the same time.
“So, where are we flying for this painting?” Royce casually asked in the darkness.
He’d known Royce wouldn’t let him go alone. “Ever been to Florence?”
“Kentucky? Plenty of times.”
Marc snorted and pinched Royce’s side. “Fucking smartass. Italy.”
Royce grabbed Marc’s hand and moved it so that it was covering his heart. “Nope. I hear it’s nice.”
Turning his head, Marc placed a kiss to Royce’s collarbone. The steady thrum of his heart lulled him closer to sleep. “You’re going to love it.”
“I’m sure I will, if we can avoid getting shot or going to jail.”
“I’ll keep them off our itinerary.”
“Thank you,” Royce whispered, covering Marc’s hand with his own.
Marc knew that Royce was referring to Marc’s efforts to get his mother safely back rather than any efforts to keep them from getting shot. So many words and emotions crowded his throat, fighting to escape, but now wasn’t the time. Maybe later when everyone was safe and sound, when they were no longer bodyguard and client, but just two men. For now, he simply said, “You’re worth it.”Chapter FourteenIt wasn’t Royce’s first time on a private jet, but it was definitely his first time in a bedroom on one. He turned a full circle in the tight area, taking in the small bed with its plush beige comforter, the buttery-soft looking brown seats with the tiny table in between.
