She crossed her arms. “I didn’t expect to see you doing that in the kitchen.”
“Doing what?” The anger in Marc’s voice cut like glass. “Kissing my man? In the privacy of my own home?” He took a step closer to her, his voice dropping into a deep growl. “Maybe you should rethink breezing into my house for a time, Lilah.”
Lilah had enough grace to look ashamed. Briefly.
Royce watched in fascination as she slowly let out the tension she’d been holding in her body and softened as she stepped closer to her brother. “I was just surprised, that’s all. I’ve never seen you kiss anyone.”
“You have seen me kiss, Lilah.”
“Not like that I haven’t.” She threw a quick lip curl at Royce. “That was something completely different.”
“Maybe because,” Marc paused and held up a hand, “maybe because, once again, I was kissing my boyfriend in the privacy of my own home. You’ve seen polite kisses in public. You’re the one who walked in knowing how much I was looking forward to him being here.”
“I guess I just thought that you’d do that sort of thing in your bedroom.” She walked around Marc and held out her hand. “I’m sorry for the awkward first meeting. I’m Lilah Foster, and you are Royce…?”
“Costas.” Because she was the one who made the meeting awkward, he didn’t acknowledge the rest of her statement. She looked a lot like Marc with the same dark hair, hers in a fall of black that draped her shoulders. Her eyes were also the same blue, and she even had the full lips. Good looks ran in this family, but he preferred the sharpness of Marc’s features.
She waited for him to say more, but all he did was let go of her hand and tug Marc close again. The man wrapped an arm around his back and leaned into his side. His instinctive compliance made Royce itch to cart him off to a bedroom, to see just how acquiescent he could be. He had this air of smooth elegance and control, yet Royce knew without a doubt, there was a natural instinct to give, one the man had probably only ever shown in private.
If he even had.
Lilah’s gaze flicked down to his tattoo sleeve and her nose wrinkled. So, she hated body art in addition to gay people—because her feelings for her brother blasted loud and clear. There was affection, yes, but she struggled with his sexuality. He tightened his arm around Marc but didn’t let up on the stare he knew was burning a hole in the woman. She should love her brother unconditionally. Period.
“Well.” She cleared her throat, her discomfort visible in her hard swallow and darting eyes. “I just wanted to let you know that I’ll be at the gallery show coming up. I thought I was going to be out of town, but my plans changed. Richard and Gabriel are going, too.”
“Fine.”
She flinched at Marc’s hard tone and stared at her brother, a faint, bleak expression coming and going on her face so fast, Royce almost missed it. He’d been trained to read expressions, to know when someone was lying, when they were holding out. His years as a shylock had taught him well.
“Okay, then.” She sighed and started backing out of the kitchen. “I’ll just leave you two alone.” She disappeared down the hall.
Royce waited for the sound of the door and when it didn’t come, he met Marc’s eyes. Marc cocked his head, sending a strand of silky looking hair to fall over his eyes. He blew it out of the way, shook his head, then grinned. Royce wasn’t all prepared for his next move. Marc turned and pushed him against the counter, then took his lips in another searing kiss. This time, he came with the pressure and ferocity, and Royce’s first instinct was to push him away because he wasn’t ready for all that heat again, but Lilah was obviously still in their vicinity, so instead, he gave in.
He wrapped one arm hard around Marc and sent his other hand into that fall of hair, cupping the side of his head and opening to his hot, seeking tongue. The kiss drew out, that electricity from earlier crackling so hard between them, it rippled over the surface of Royce’s skin. He wondered if Marc felt it, too.
Marc was feeling something, because he groaned and pressed harder against Royce.
The faint sound of a door closing followed, and Royce turned his face, breaking the kiss. He pushed Marc back and they stood, staring, both catching their breaths.
But now, the glitter of raw desire in Marc’s gaze burrowed deep into Royce and settled. He had no idea how this job was going to play out. None at all.Marc shifted under the sheet, unused to sleeping in pajama pants. He preferred being nude in his bed or at least just in briefs, but that wouldn’t work with the bodyguard stretched out on the chaise lounge not ten feet from his bed. Fuck, it was like he could feel him in the room. He had the curtains closed all the way, so not a hint of light showed. He could hear him breathing, yes, but it was his presence Marc felt so keenly. The man took over a room just by being in it. Like his surprisingly slim, wiry frame somehow took up more space. Like the Tardis on Doctor Who.