Talking with the most gorgeous pink lips Gray had ever seen.
“There’s a whole room in there with the security equipment,” Justin said. “We’ve installed cameras all over the place, you’ll see. The instructions left inside should be enough to get you started.”
“Right,” Gray nodded, then added quickly, “I probably will have some questions later, just to clarify.” It was true, he expected, despite the fact that his uncle had literally made him operate a switchboard for that model of security system with a blindfold on, which still made no sense to Gray.
But there were things you could only learn by talking to a real person, and Gray was suddenly desperate to discover more about the person standing before him. Not the movie star or the teen heartthrob, but the real, flesh and blood person.
“I’m sure I can help,” Justin nodded. He glanced back and forth between his house and Gray, almost like he was eager to end the conversation and run back inside. Gray supposed it was fair enough, considering how many people were after his attention. “Why don’t I have you up to the house this evening. Seven o’clock? Just come around to the back door. I should familiarize you with the property anyway.”
Gray pushed his hand through his hair, eager to look chill. “Seven works. I guess I’ll see you then?”
Justin extended a hand, then pressed a small gold key into Gray’s palm. They had barely touched before he pulled his hand away again, but the spark of pleasure went straight up Gray’s arm.
“See you then,” Justin agreed.
Gray pushed the door open to his new place. Everything was sleek and clean inside, from the big geometric paintings on the wall to the furniture, scattered randomly around the room. Tossing his bag aside, Gray spun in a slow circle, trying to take in what it felt like to be in a space like that, with ceilings that were two stories tall and views of a mansion.
“Fucked up,” he mumbled, then went to check out the fridge. Popping the top off a beer and pulling out a small box of donuts, he plopped down at the long counter. Gray really wanted to do his Uncle Declan a solid and pull in the kind of money for his business that this gig was going to pull in. He wanted to prove that he could keep his head down and get shit done. That he really was better than the dirtbags in his family and not just a cheap criminal like his grandfather.
He shoved another donut in his mouth. Now that he’d actually met Justin Sweet, like fucking touched the guy, actually?
Gray had a very stiff distraction. It was the kind of distraction that always made him act out. The kind that got him acting a fool at the bar or driving his car too fast to try to impress some man he barely knew. A distraction like a flood of hormones, smacking him in the face.
He pressed his palm flat against his crotch, then groaned. One thing was sure: that distraction wasn’t going away, no matter how many donuts he shoved down his throat.
JAMESON
Jameson sat in the lounge chair, his legs up on the accompanying ottoman, nursing a glass of wine while his eyes drifted across the backyard. It was his own idea to hire a live-in security guard, but still, now that the man had arrived, Jameson found himself hopelessly distracted by the fact that he was there, waiting in the guest house. Plenty of staff came and went from the mansion, so why did having Gray close by feel so different?
It didn’t help that he was steaming hot. Gray had just the right amount of beard, dark against his tanned skin and a brow line that practically made Jameson gasp. His hands were large, and his jeans were slung low on his hips.
But mainly, Jameson kept thinking about those eyes, dark like two burning coals. They pierced right through Jameson any time Gray looked at him, almost like they shattered his mask.
Jameson laughed softly to himself. Those eyes were part of the reason Gray looked so damn cute and funny when he jumped back on the car like he did, terrified by the nicest dog in the county. He took a sip of his wine, then set it down to give Pickles a friendly scratch. “Good Pickles,” he said, then giggled to himself again.
Considering he was a twenty-five-year-old virgin, it wasn’t surprising that Jameson was so worked up over Gray. The man was almost certainly straight, Jameson knew that, but no one else really came by his place, and especially not for an evening cocktail. Jameson would have said that he was happy that way, with his very occasional visitors, but then he had gone and blurted out an invitation to his new security without even meaning to.
Jameson worried himself for a minute, crossing his leg over his knee and bouncing it up and down with a nervous energy. Was he becoming pathetic? Was he so desperate for companionship he couldn’t even resist inviting his employee up for a cocktail? After years of practice controlling his desires and hiding himself, why did this guy with the cocky, funny way of talking suddenly make Jameson feel like the teenager he never was?
The lights flicked off in the guest house, and, when Jameson turned to look, he saw Gray step outside. Jameson jumped to his feet. He paused by a mirror to fix his hair, pushing a few strands tastefully out of place. Reluctantly, he pushed away the real version of himself and pulled his Justin Sweet smile back on, reminding himself that Gray was just another audience to act for, even if he’d spent half the afternoon fantasizing about something different.
“Good evening,” he said, pulling open the sliding door as Gray climbed to the upper porch. “Come on in. Can I offer you a drink? Cocktail?”
“Sure.” Gray had on a black sweater beneath his leather jacket, and his hair was brushed to the side more neatly than before. “You got a beer?”
“Of course,” Jameson answered. “Grab a seat.”
He battled down the sudden surge of lust as he grabbed a cool beer and a mug, then paused to pour himself a little more wine. He figured it would take twenty or thirty minutes of friendly Justin Sweet conversation to fill Gray in on the house, and certainly he could hold his act together for that long. Twenty or thirty minutes was child’s play.
Gray was sitting on the long blue couch, but he stood to take the drink. “This is the place the paparazzi are all trying to sneak in and photograph, huh?”
“I know, nothing special,” Jameson said with a dismissive laugh. “Sorry to disappoint.”
And it wasn’t anything special, just tasteful decorations, all very current and sophisticated. Everything special was kept safe and sound upstairs, locked in Jameson’s private quarters, a space that not even the cleaning staff entered.
They took seats across from each other, and Jameson raised his glass with a friendly smile. He’d learned that if he didn’t hold someone’s eye for a moment, most people had trouble relaxing around him.
Gray smiled back, and the flash of his teeth made Jameson feel a little dizzy.
