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Andrei pulled Rowe’s monstrous black SUV as close as possible and then climbed into the back while Rowe helped Lucas up into the front passenger seat. So far the bodyguard had yet to utter a syllable and Lucas had begun to hope the man was mute. If he never made a sound, it would be easier to forget he was around. So much better for Lucas’s sanity. He preferred it if the men he was attracted to slipped in and out of his life quickly and without fuss. This one offered none of that.
There was no ignoring or forgetting about the dark-eyed temptation who sat directly behind him. While Lucas managed to get out of the car on his own, Andrei stuck close on the elevator ride up to the penthouse and he swore he could feel the other man’s body heat seeping into him. A hint of cologne reached him, and Lucas drew in a slow, deep breath, pulling the exotic and spicy scent into his lungs to hold it there. He wanted to pin the man against the cool black wall of the elevator and plunge his tongue deep into his mouth while freeing all that luxurious black hair so he could wrap his hands in it. Hold him in place. Lucas would slowly rock his hips against Andrei’s, learn the tenor of the bodyguard’s groan, because he couldn’t imagine the sound—he’d never heard him speak.
None of this would probably happen because the man screamed straight.
“You know I used to love your place,” Rowe murmured after he showed Lucas how to turn off the new alarm system.
“Used to?” Lucas tracked Andrei as the other man preceded them into the condo. Gun out, steps smooth and fluid, it was hard to pull his gaze from him. Between his movements now and that grinding kiss fantasy, Lucas’s body had started to perk up—despite the drug store in his system.
“Yeah, now all these huge windows scream sniper’s wet dream.”
“Sniper?” Lucas blinked, finally jerking his brain from the sight of Andrei’s tight, round ass as he passed in front of Lucas to pay attention to the words Rowe was muttering. “I thought your theory was that this was a street gang. You really think they’re going to get a sniper?”
“No,” Rowe mumbled.
Lucas clapped his right hand on Rowe’s shoulder and squeezed. “I have security. I have a bodyguard. I’ll be safe. Go home.”
Rowe grunted, his eyes scanning the open layout as if checking one last time for some lurking assassin. Beneath Lucas’s hand, he could feel taut muscles stretched across his shoulder. His friend’s movements remained twitchy and restless, like a squirrel after an espresso, but then Rowe was more accustomed to being in the middle of the fight rather than delegating the dirty work to others. Rowe liked doing the dirty work. His marriage and growing business had forced him to slow down, and he was still adjusting.
“Go fuck your sexy wife.”
A ghost of a smile passed over Rowe’s mouth, easing some of the worry from his eyes. “Stay safe. Be smart.” Rowe turned and left.
Fuck. Finally! Rowe was gone. Snow was gone. Ian was at work. No more hovering detectives or doctors. A loud sigh rippled through the quiet penthouse and Lucas could feel his body relax despite the pain that was steadily growing throughout his frame. He was home. There wasn’t another place in the city where he felt safer.
He shuffled into the living room and sank into the soft fabric of the sofa, closing his eyes against the twinkling lights of the city spread before him. The Ascent was a graceful spire of white stone and blue glass rising up from the riverfront of Northern Kentucky, offering residents an unobstructed view of either downtown Cincinnati or the surrounding Northern Kentucky neighborhoods, complete with rolling green hills in the distance.
Two years ago, Lucas purchased the Pinnacle, the three-story penthouse that looked out on downtown Cincinnati. Not only did it offer security and privacy, removing him from his day-to-day rush of work, but he remained close enough to look down on his domain. The penthouse was mostly an open layout with kitchen, dining room, and a living room he loved. It was a large curving area filled with light honey woods and brushed nickel. But the highlight was the uninterrupted city view across two walls. The second floor held the master bedroom, guest room, and small office. Though, Lucas preferred to work from the dining room so he could watch the lights wink off and on across the city.
A mix of comfortable furniture and eclectic art reflected his personal tastes. And the influences of his friends filled his home. This was no magazine spread of Architectural Digest or Southern Living. This was a home. And Lucas didn’t entertain in his home. If he wanted to throw a party, it was done in a space he rented. Only a select group of people ever set foot into his private domain. People he loved and trusted. That was it.
