with a rubber band before spraying some cologne into the air and walking through it.
Checking out his reflection in the mirror, he grabbed his leather bag and whistled as he exited the house and jogged down the front walk to the car. He settled into the black Mustang. It was a gift from a Hollywood starlet he'd designed an award-winning condo for. That had been his first major job. Not only had she paid him, but she gave him the car and a beautiful bracelet she'd purchased in Morocco. Every year she redecorated and each time she called José and his team. Because of her, José DeLuz was a well-known name—he just tended to hide away from the limelight.
With plans in hand, José made his way to Ronin's place. He took a breath and knocked on the large front door. It looked different from a few days before. The mailbox was also new. He chuckled. Ronin seemed to have been busy. Clearing his throat, José turned once more to look at the door just as it was pulled open. José bit his lower lip, fighting back a groan. "Morning." Ronin smiled.
"Come on in. I was making some breakfast. You hungry?"
"And he cooks!" José laughed, walking by Ronin.
"It all depends on what you're eating."
"I made a protein shake and there are bagels and scrambled eggs with some fruit."
José allowed Ronin to lead him into the kitchen and was surprised at how good the place looked. There were no boxes now and he could move around without fear of crashing into one. He took a seat at the table and placed his bag on the floor.
"You work fast," José said, seeking desperately for a topic of conversation. The air around them was tense and he didn't know why. Each time their gazes met, a shiver surged through him. Perhaps it was his years of just being José, of being so open to most things—but even with that thought Ronin still seemed out of his reach.
"Thanks. I didn't have any help because my brother bailed on me at the last minute." Ronin laughed, placing two loaded plates to the table. "He had to work."
"What does he do?"
"FBI."
José thanked Ronin for the plate and placed his fork against the edge of it. "Really? I've never met an FBI agent, or rather, the family of one before. Does he like it?"
"I don't think he could do anything else." Ronin stopped moving for a second in what looked to be contemplation before he smiled and shook his head. "As a matter of fact… I know he couldn't do anything else."
José watched Ronin place a steaming cup of tea in front of him before sitting down. They ate in relative
silence, the sound of forks scraping the plates periodically interrupting the silence.
"I brought you the pictures of the place," José said.
He couldn't take the blue of Ronin's eyes digging through him anymore. "I know it's not the same as seeing the place firsthand but it will have to do. The safety guys don't want anyone in the building right now apart from their workers.
Before I met with my team, I went in and got these done."
"They'll do fine," Ronin replied. "I only wanted to see the colors you were using and get a feel for what you guys thought of when you first saw the place."
"What?"
"What?"
José laughed. "You're staring."
"Am I? I'm sorry."
"The contract is in here as well, along with some other papers for the finance department—that kind of thing… okay, what?"
"I'm staring again, aren't I?" Ronin asked with a small smile. "I'm sorry." Ronin rose and picked up his plate.
José lifted a brow as the man made to walk by him.
Instinctively, he reached out, catching Ronin's arm to stop him. A sharp burst of fire traced his arm all the way through his body. He didn't know why he did it and didn't
know what would happen.
"I don't know why I did that…" José's voice was small. He felt like a complete moron. All he had to do was drop off the papers, contract, and pictures and run. Now he knew how Ronin's hair-covered arm felt like against his palm and wanted more. He slid his hand up Ronin's arm, prolonging the connection, basking in the electricity. He dropped the napkin he was holding in his free hand and pushed up from the chair.
"Shit," he muttered. He'd never been tongue-tied around a man before. He was always open and ready. Now he stood before Ronin, the kind of man he couldn't dream would go anywhere near his bed, feeling like he was just dipped in liquid sunshine and hung out wet.
"You don't know?" Ronin's voice was thick, raspy, and so sexy. "I do."
Ronin moved so quickly, José didn't have time to even realize what was happening. There was a
clunk
from Ronin's plate as it fell against the table. The noise was burned into José's brain from his childhood when he would put a glass plate against his mother's glass table.
Ronin took his lips then, hot and rough. José opened his mouth to gasp in surprise and Ronin shoved his tongue into José's mouth. Panting and praying for sanity, José tangled the fingers of one hand around Ronin's neck,
arched into the strong man's arms, and groaned when Ronin's nipple piercings squeezed into his chest. His mind instantly went to what else Ronin might have pierced. The images made José's mouth water. He whimpered, allowing this man to dominate him, to drink greedily from his lips while giving him so much pleasure his knees went weak. It wasn't just a simple kiss—José knew he was being partially plundered and so help him he loved every breathtaking feel of it. Ronin sank his teeth into José's lower lip. José groaned, grinding his now hard cock into the front of Ronin's pants. He wanted Ronin to touch it—maybe even pull it into his mouth. But he was so caught up in being kissed he just couldn't move. Something hit the ground hard but José couldn't focus.
It was Ronin who pulled back first, breathing heavily. He moved in again, this time it was a short kiss.
"You should go now," Ronin advised.
José was weak, dazed, and turned on. He nodded numbly. Glancing down, he realized it was his cell that had fallen. He picked it up, took one more look at Ronin, and left the house.
José was disgusted with himself. When it came to men he never walked on eggshells. He saw a man he wanted, he went after him. But Ronin was different.
"I did a bad thing!" José barged into Anatolis' back room and flopped onto the sofa. Savaro and Rajan looked up at him. Both had the same quizzical look on their faces.
"Oh-kay." Savaro was the first of the two brothers to speak. "What did you do?"
"Er… He doesn't need bail since he's here," Rajan pointed out. "So it must mean you need help moving a body. We probably should call X for this."
"Stop being a dick." José pouted, folding his arms and slipping deeper into the seat. Still he couldn't help the smile that passed his lips at his friends' teasing. "I really need some help here."
"Oh boy. He looks serious." Savaro slipped from behind his desk to sit beside José. "Start at the beginning."
José held his breath for a moment in an attempt to steady his nerves. He eyed the bottle of whiskey on the wine shelf but couldn't take a drink since he was driving.
Looking from Rajan to Savaro, he pressed his knees together and explained what happened. The whole story seemed to tumble from his mouth in one long breath. When
he stopped, he panted for air. José did go for a drink then.
He bypassed the whiskey and grabbed a bottle of water from the small fridge. The brothers behind him whistled low and he turned to look at them. Wringing the cap from the bottle, he leaned heavily against the fridge and took a long drink.
"I mean, now what do I do?" José questioned.
"What do you mean 'what do you do'?" Savaro wanted to know. "We don't have to have the
talk
with you, right? I'm very sure you know how this works."
"Damn it, Sav!"
"It's not like you've never been kissed before.
Remember your little foray into Jamaica?" Savaro pushed.
"Weren't you the one who told Jamal that I loved a man with a little meat on his bones? What happened to that José?"
José wanted to hit his head on something. "You're really not going to let me live that down are you?"
Rajan chuckled. "Jamaica? Nope. It's too much fun bugging you about it. But seriously. He's just another man, José."
"Well for your information, the José who's an outgoing man-whore—that José died a slow and painful death. And no, Ronin's not just another man. He's the kind of stud I've searched for since I was fifteen. But I can't let
anything else happen. He's going to see just how big of a flake I am and charge for the door."
Savaro sighed heavily. "José, don't try being something you're not for this man. You just met him. And besides, if he's a good sort, he'd be angry if things work out between the two of you
then
he finds out you were hiding your true self from him. Work with him. Get to know him.
Then, if it seems like he's ready, tackle his ass in one of your back rooms and lay it on him."
Rajan burst out laughing. "I'm sorry. I think you've been married too long. You're starting to talk like Jamal."
Savaro groaned.
"Would you two focus on me for a second? I knew I should have gone to see Laird for this."
"Laird? He's no better—all right. I'm sorry!" Rajan lifted a hand in surrender. "But Savaro is right. One day at a time."
"And in the meantime? You know I'm liable to do something stupid—or worse."
"What's worse than doing something stupid?"
Savaro scratched his head.
"Saying something stupid," José replied.
Savaro shrugged. "It's a chance you're going to have to take—damn, José, you're never the one to be nervous to go after a man. What's so special about Ronin McCall?"
"You wouldn't understand. He's different."
"Different?" Savaro laughed. "Want to talk different? I'm married to an African American basketball player."
"And I'm married to the leader of a crazy SWAT
team. Don't even mention Laird…" Rajan offered. "What we're trying to say is we can understand different. Explain it to us, José. Try."
José walked from where he was standing to peer out the window into the dining room. He stood there for a moment, trying to form a thought, trying to find the right words to explain what he felt when he was around Ronin.
For a brief moment, he was scared Rajan and Savaro would judge him. Then he remembered—those two had never judged him before. They were always there for him, along with Laird. Most recently their husbands had begun to show the same loyalty as the brothers. Taking a breath, he faced them again. Rajan was pouring himself a drink and Savaro was twisting on the sofa to watch him.
"When I'm around him—even that first day I went over there, I feel dominated. I'm not talking about the painful, hurtful kind of domination. I mean the kind that would leave me breathless and…" He stopped as words failed him and walked to sit beside Savaro.
"You've always been a little bit of a freak, bro,"
Rajan explained. "Don't be afraid. Let your freak flag fly!
Ronin looks like the kind of man to encourage bad behavior."
José grinned. "He does, doesn't he?" Thoughts of the kiss he'd shared with Ronin flashed through his head and he moaned. "Anyways it doesn't matter. He and I have work to do and if I screw this up Laird would die."
Rajan took a breath. "Ask him here for dinner. Tell him it's a guy's night and you want him to come. Then when he gets here we can excuse ourselves so you two can be alone and talk."
"Talk? Is that what you think I'd do to and with Ronin?" José asked, cocking a brow.
The brothers laughed.
After a few more jokes, José excused himself and made his way home. It was as though his mother was watching him. The moment he stepped through the door, his house phone rang. Without thinking, he reached for it.
"José Calderon DeLuz!"
José jerked to attention and was about to hide behind the door. Whenever his mother called his full name in that tone of voice he knew he was in for it. "Ma? What did I do now?"
"You were supposed to call me this morning.
Remember that?"
José dumped his keys onto the counter and ran his hand over his face. He'd forgotten. But who would remember anything after being kissed by Ronin McCall?
"Sorry, Ma. I have a lot on my mind right now. Is everything okay?"
"Everything's fine,
mi hijo.
You don't sound so good."
He grabbed a bottle of juice from the fridge and snagged an apple. "I'm fine. Just tired. I picked up a major client and it's going to take a lot of work."
"New client?"
"Yeah, Ma. Laird Anatolis. Remember him?"
"Of course I remember him. I was your date for his wedding, remember? Even though I'm still confused on how you let that sexy, dark-haired sex-god marry someone else…"
"Ma!"
"Don't 'Ma' me. The man's a catch!"
"He's also a best friend. I'd never."
His mother tsked. "That's the trouble with you young people. You let friendship get in the way of love.
Sheesh."
"It wouldn't be love, Ma." José took a drink from the juice. He dropped the apple against the center coffee table and flopped to the couch behind him.
"Really? That's what you're worried about? Laird looked like he grew up to have some junk in his trunk if you know what I mean. José, this man could do things to you that would make your…"
"Ma! Ma, stop! You're scarring me here!"
"Oh posh. If you haven't been scarred yet, it'll never happen. Just think about it."
José rubbed his eyes and took another drink from the juice bottle. "Sorry, Ma. But I just don't feel like thinking of Laird's junk in any manner. Look, Ma, I love you but I have to go."
"
Sí, sí
. You take care and don't work too hard."
"I won't. I love you, Ma."
"
Te amo, mi hijo
."
José was happy when the conversation ended. He loved his mother but sometimes she drove him nuts.
Dropping the cordless phone beside him he shook his head.
His mother wanted him to get together with Laird—that wasn't how it worked. He could never see Laird, Rajan, or Savaro in a sexual way.