RED
Red waiteduntil he heard the bathroom door close and the water start in earnest before he began his patrol the way he always did—methodical, silent, checking each window latch twice, testing the door, scanning the dark beyond the glass for movement that never came. The cabin had settled into night, the only sounds the whisper of wind through the trees and the muted rush of the shower down the hall.
Secure. As secure as it was going to get.
He checked the monitors again and returned to the bedroom, hunting for the T-shirt and sleep shorts he’d worn the previous night.
Routine. Normal. Nothing to think about.
He stripped off his hoodie first, then hooked his fingers into the hem of his T-shirt and dragged it up and over his head in one smooth motion.
“Nice.”
Red froze for half a second, vision still muffled in cotton. He yanked the shirt the rest of the way off and blinked into the dim lamplight.
A towel wrapped around his waist, Kit was leaning in the doorway like he’d been there a while, shoulders dappled with water braced against the frame, nipples taut with the rings catching the light, his eyes roaming over Red in a way that was anything but subtle.
Heat flared low in Red’s gut, sharp and immediate. He tamped it down the same way he did everything else—by locking his expression into something flat and unimpressed.
“Thought you were in the bathroom,” he said, reaching for the T-shirt on the bed and pulling it on without hurry.
“I was,” Kit replied, pushing off the frame and wandering in like he owned the place. “Forgot my—” He gestured vaguely back toward the bathroom, clearly not caring about the excuse. His gaze dropped again, tracking over Red’s chest, the faded ink on his ribs, the old scars that mapped his bodyguard career in pale lines. Red could tell him how he’d received each scar. “You’ve been hiding all that under leather and attitude? Tragic.”
Red grabbed his pajama pants and stepped into them, turning slightly away, more to give his hands something to do than out of modesty. “You still need the shower?”
Kit grinned, unrepentant. “Hmmm, I think I need you more.”
Red tied the drawstring a little tighter than necessary and finally looked at him properly. He was all long lines and bare skin and deliberate innocence. Watching. Always watching.
Testing.
“Something you need?” Red asked.
Kit’s expression softened for just a flicker before the bratty edge came back. “Just appreciating the view.”
Red ignored that comment and shoved the T-shirt over his head. Kit was still there, waiting for him, his dark eyes openly locked on Red’s body.
“Go pick a movie while I use the bathroom.”
Red didn’t wait for Kit’s reply as he padded into the bathroom, blinking at the steam. God, he wanted to throw his boy down onto the bed and make love to him…
Make love? What was he thinking about?
He leaned against the sink and looked at himself in the mirror, seeing the dark smudges under his eyes. But he looked…happy. For the first time in years. Like he was doing something that he’d been born to do.
Red hadn’t seen that expression for a long time. He’d gotten up, gone to work, come home, gone to bed. Rinse, repeat. There had been no fun in his life.
Kit wasn’t fun. He was work. They were in danger. Red needed to focus.
Who was he kidding? When was the last time Red had danced like that, with or without a client? Red gave his reflection a wry smile. He could make his excuses till those cattle with the big horns bellowed—his mom had had a weird obsession with cows and had decorated her whole house with them—but he was having the best time he’d had since Davie had walked out the door.
“Red?”
He turned to see Kit standing in the bathroom doorway, his brows furrowed and chewing on his bottom lip.
“Is everything all right?” Red asked.
“It was quiet. You were…off. I was worried,” Kit admitted. From the way Kit was clenching and unclenching his hands, Red could see he’d been genuinely concerned.
