“What were you doing in there?” the man asked sharply. “You’re not supposed to be back here.”
Knowing he couldn’t very well deny being in Amahn’s office, Z offered the other guy a grin. “Sorry, man. You know how it is.” Leaning in conspiratorially, Z continued, “The john was otherwise occupied. Figured it wouldn’t hurt if I borrowed a private one. If you know what I mean.”
Thankfully, the topic of bathroom habits flustered the guy, because he rolled his eyes. “You need to go back that way. And don’t let me catch you back here again.”
“Gotcha, bro,” Z agreed with another smile.
It hadn’t been the most compromising position Z had ever found himself in, but he didn’t want the gallery employee to go tell Amahn, so he’d slipped him a twenty in agreement for keeping it between them.
“Somethin’ wrong?” Z inquired now, still studying RT.
Instead of answering, RT turned to face him, and the next thing Z knew, his world had been tipped on its axis.
RYAN WAS AT HIS TIPPING point.
It’d all started when Z had appeared from his bedroom wearing that damn suit, looking…fucking edible.
The guy wasn’t known for dressing up; then again, none of them were. Over the years, Ryan had seen Z in almost everything—and yes, even naked—but in that particular suit…Ryan hadn’t been able to take his eyes off of him.
And then through dinner, Z had held his own, pitching in when necessary but allowing Ryan to carry most of the conversation. He was so damn smart, and he’d apparently done his research prior to the meeting. Enough that he’d even awed Jericho and Amahn a time or two with his tidbits of information on art history.
However, through it all, he’d still been Z. Relaxed, cool, witty.
Then, at the gallery…
Well, Ryan could go on and on, but his brain was misfiring, and he wasn’t sure what to do about it. Needless to say, he was turned on to no end. And he knew that resisting Z—right, wrong, or indifferent—was no longer an option. Not tonight, anyway.
Now, as they got in the cab to head back to the beach house, Ryan waited until the cab pulled away from the curb before he turned to Z. When the other man’s eyes widened slightly, Ryan knew that Z was aware of what was about to happen.
Electricity crackled in the air between them.
Leaning in, Ryan kept his eyes locked with Z’s until he was too close to see him. It was then that he moved in until his mouth brushed Z’s. Lightly at first, but Z modified that instantly. His big hand came around to cup the back of Ryan’s head possessively, pulling him closer, melding their mouths together as Z’s tongue slid across the seam of Ryan’s lips.
The world exploded in brilliant, unfathomable sensation. Ryan’s body lit up like a pyrotechnics finale when his tongue met Z’s. It was…cataclysmic. Devastating. Earth-shattering.
And Ryan never wanted it to end.
Aching to touch Z, Ryan slid his hands inside Z’s jacket, finding rock-hard muscle beneath the soft cotton of his dress shirt. He wanted skin to skin, but considering where they were, that would have to wait.
The kiss seemed to go on forever, deepening, growing more and more out of control by the second. It took everything in Ryan’s power to remain cognizant of their surroundings. They were in the back of a cab, after all. They couldn’t pursue more until they were in the privacy of the beach house.
Z’s rough growl sent shockwaves of pleasure through Ryan, making his dick throb, longing for Z’s touch.
Finally, Z pulled away. Or maybe Ryan did. He didn’t know for sure, but they didn’t remove their hands, Z’s still cupping the back of Ryan’s head, his fingers latching on to Ryan’s hair, tugging slightly while Ryan gripped Z’s waist firmly.
“We need to do that more often,” Z said breathlessly, his voice low enough only Ryan could hear. “A fuck of a lot more often.”
Ryan couldn’t contain his smile. The look on Z’s face was priceless and so damn sexy. His eyes were hooded, his lips wet and slightly parted, as he appeared to be processing what had just happened.
When the cab came to a stop, Ryan realized they’d made it back to the house. After handing money over, he exited while Z did the same on the opposite side. His body was revved to go, desperate to pick up where he and Z had left off just as soon as they got inside the—
“Son of a bitch,” Z rasped as he came to stand beside Ryan.
The cab disappeared into the night, leaving them both standing there, staring at…
Clay’s motorcycle parked in the driveway.
“Has anyone ever mentioned that your brothers have horrible timing?”
Ryan choked out a laugh. No, they hadn’t, but he couldn’t help but agree with Z.
Clay’s timing sucked.
“Is he stayin’ here?” Z questioned as they made their way up the stairs to the porch. “Please tell me he’s just pillaging the fridge and he’s sleeping in a tent on the beach.”
Honestly, Ryan hadn’t thought about it.
Shit.
Then again, maybe this was a sign. Maybe Clay showing up and effectively putting a halt to whatever had been about to transpire between Ryan and Z was a sign.
One Ryan shouldn’t ignore.
Stepping inside, Ryan pulled off his tie and shrugged out of his jacket.
“Hey,” Clay called from the living room. He had his booted feet propped up on the coffee table, his ball cap turned around backward, a baseball game on the television. “Don’t y’all look spiffy?”
“Shut it,” Z said good-naturedly before disappearing upstairs, probably to change.
“How’d it go?”
“Not too bad,” Ryan said. “You?”
“I scoped out the house after they left. Security’s tight.”
“So no luck?”
Clay grinned. “You don’t give me enough credit, big brother. Keep in mind who we are.”
Ryan waited for Clay to continue.
“With Dom’s help, I got in. We disengaged the alarm temporarily. Twelve thousand square feet is a lot to cover, especially with Ardent’s staff there, but I managed to check out the most obvious places. Nada. I don’t think the painting’s there.”
Ryan hadn’t figured it would be.
Clay tipped his beer to his lips, his eyes locked on Ryan.
“You look…different. What’s up?”
Ryan fought the heat that infused his face, as well as the urge to flatten his hair. If he had to guess, he probably looked as though he’d just been thoroughly kissed by a sexy giant. Which he had.
Memories of that kiss flooded him.
“Tired,” he lied, glancing over at the stairs. “I think I’m gonna call it a night.”
Clay didn’t move, other than to hold up his phone. “I got your text. I’ll make a midnight run to the gallery.”
“Not alone,” Ryan insisted.
“Not much of a choice,” Clay said, peering around the room. “No one else here.”
“Fine,” Ryan huffed. “But have Dom or Austin on the phone with you in case you run into problems. They’ll be able to help virtually.”
“Will do.”
Slowly heading to the stairs, Ryan suddenly wished his brother would find other accommodations for the night. A tent on the beach wasn’t a bad idea. He really wanted to be alone with Z.
“Oh, before I forget,” Ryan said, stopping on the stairs. “Ally’s got a place down here. ’Bout five minutes away, actually. She’ll be here tomorrow night, too.”
Clay showed the first signs of life, sitting up straight, his feet dropping to the floor, and putting his beer on the coffee table. “Ally? Ally Shaffaer?”
“The one and only,” Ryan confirmed, watching his brother’s interested expression.
“Does she know I’m here?” There was a hint of uncertainty in Clay’s tone.
“Yeah. She said she’d be more than willing to be your date tomorrow night and at the gallery on Saturday.” She hadn’t really said that, but since Ryan had played matchmaker with Ally in order to convince her to come, he figured what the hell. Might as well expand on it.
“Really?”
Ryan moved up a couple more steps. In for a penny, in for a pound. “Yeah. She likes you. You stayin’ here tonight?”
“Thought I would,” Clay said, his gaze straying up to the second-floor landing. “That a problem for you?”