Trying to push aside thoughts of George, his mind instantly shifted to his friends, sending a new wave of pain through him. He’d never forget the anguished look on Lucas’s face as he looked up at Shiver one last time before Jude shoved him back into the ambulance for transport to the hospital. He felt sick over Lucas’s loss. Insurance would cover the properties, but Shiver, along with The Warehouse, held a special place in Lucas’s heart and he ached for his friend.
Rowe also had a feeling Shiver’s demise would make a lot of his already worried clients bolt. And something about that pyro kid’s face was nagging him. It was too much. Work would clear his brain until the toxic mix of anger and worry bled out enough to sleep. Because he hadn’t been doing enough of that lately either.
Not with the added confusion over Noah.
Trying to sleep earlier that night when he’d spent most of his time flashing back to what it felt like to be inside the tight, hot sheath of Noah’s body hadn’t worked. He’d ended up staring at his ceiling, listening for sounds from Noah, and remembering the peppermint smell of his hair. Or the way his wicked grin sent all the blood in Rowe’s body to his dick.
Then that fucking broken look in his eyes when he’d found him packed and ready to leave smashed through the good images like a devil-possessed wrecking ball.
Rowe’s heart felt caught in a blender.
He walked past Noah’s room, glanced in, and was frozen in his tracks. Noah stood in front of the mirror as he slowly removed his shirt. He wasn’t looking at himself, his gaze turned toward the floor in obvious exhaustion. Bruises covered his big body, too. One that was larger than Rowe’s hand colored his side and Rowe flashed back to when Noah had taken him down—most of his body over Rowe’s, but he’d grunted when his side hit the ground.
He hadn’t even hesitated to put his body in the line of fire to protect Rowe.
And amid all that chaos, Rowe had lain there under his friend, reeling under the crushing knowledge that Noah had instinctively put him first, realizing he’d been wrong. He couldn’t live in the same house with the man and keep his hands off him. And he didn’t want him to leave.
Ever.
Fuck, he thought his heart would just flop out of his chest onto the floor right then. He didn’t want to hurt Noah anymore and he wanted him. Really wanted him. And in order to move on, there were a few, hard truths Rowe needed to face. He had to work past the fear that gripped him every time he even thought of opening himself up again. He had to work past the guilt he felt for wanting to move on…and he had to work past the remorse he’d apparently been carrying around since he hadn’t faced what happened between them thirteen years ago. Drunk or not, they’d connected—really connected—that night in Prague and he’d just brushed Noah off like he’d meant nothing. Rowe had never thought of himself as a coward and this incredible man deserved more.
He wanted to give him more.
He watched him struggle with the still-buttoned sleeves of his shirt, then sigh and chuckle softly when he’d realized what he’d done. Even with the bruises, Noah was a work of fucking art. Muscles rippled over those wide, massive shoulders and they flexed in his back. In the mirror, his abs showed lines of detail and they glistened with a sheen of sweat.
Rowe suddenly craved salt.
Noah’s gaze came up in the mirror and locked on Rowe’s from the doorway. He froze, white shirt tangled around his wrists. Rowe couldn’t stop himself from moving forward and stopping when his chest was against Noah’s arms and back. Wrapping his fist around the shirt, he effectively trapped Noah’s wrists in the material. He opened his mouth over the place where Noah’s neck met his shoulders, sucking the salty muscle into his mouth.
In the mirror, Noah’s eyes closed as he tilted his head to give Rowe better access. Rowe licked over his skin, up his neck and kissed his jaw.
“You’re breaking the rules, Ward,” Noah said on a long breath.
“No, I’m not.” Rowe nuzzled into that fall of soft curls, hating that he smelled smoke more than anything else.
“Certainly feels like it,” Noah said with a sigh, but he wasn’t pushing Rowe away. “Is this a ‘we had a bad day so let’s make it better with sex’ thing or—” Noah broke off and moaned when Rowe kissed down his shoulder.
“We agreed no more sex…until I could give you what you needed.” Rowe smiled against his skin, eyeing that bruise on Noah’s side in the mirror. “We’re probably too beat up for sex.”