“Go,” Reck said from behind Shaw. “I’ll take care of this one.”

For a moment, Barr looked like he might continue. Then Matty squeezed past him, and Barr followed, slamming the door shut. The noise clapped down the hallway like a gunshot.

Reck took Shaw’s arm.

“Get your hand off me before I break it.”

“Will you come down here, then? Away from there?”

“Worried your partner’s going to punch me?”

“Worried you’ve got some kind of psychic yoga shit that you’re going to hit him with. You’ve got really scrawny legs, but what do I know? Maybe you can strangle a guy with them.”

For some reason, that made Shaw crack a smile, and he let Reck tug him toward the elevator. Reck put him in a corner, standing so close Shaw could smell the wool suit and the sporty cologne, so close that when Reck kept a grip on his arm and Shaw looked up into Reck’s dark eyes, he had the strange, dizzying notion that Reck was going to drag him up and kiss him.

Those crinkles were back. “You’ve kind of got a temper, don’t you?”

“Only when assholes are harassing someone I care about.”

“You’re protective.” Reck nodded. “That’s adorable.”

“It’s not adorable. It’s masculine. It’s butch.”

Reck nodded again. “It’s those hemp pants. They really scream butch.”

“What am I supposed to wear? A tailored Brooks Brothers suit—don’t even try to pretend you bought that off the rack—and Under Armour compression shorts?”

“They stay dry.”

“Maybe you should buy a white shirt that isn’t see through.”

“Maybe. But sometimes I like people looking. The right person, I mean.”

“So you’re a slut as well as a bully.”

“You’re the one who’s looking.”

And fuck if he wasn’t right. Fuck if Jadon Reck wasn’t right because this close, with his jacket falling open, with that translucent white dress shirt practically pasted to his chest, Jadon Reck might as well have been naked from the waist up: Shaw could count each fucking ab, could trace the hard ridges of his pecs, could see the dark, wide buds of his nipples. Big nipples on a big guy.

“You’ve kind of got a mouth to go with that temper, don’t you?” Reck’s crinkles were back. “Did you have something else you wanted to say?”

Shaw did. He just couldn’t think of what it was. The heat coming off Reck was like a sauna, boiling all the oxygen out of the air. Reck was actually leaning down. His fingers were tightening on Shaw’s arm—painful, but also exhilarating. He wouldn’t kiss Shaw, not here, not while he was working, would he? He didn’t even know Shaw. Hadn’t even talked to him more than twice. Hadn’t—

His jaw scraped Shaw’s, the stubble igniting like fireworks, and he whispered into Shaw’s ear, breath hot, “Now be a good boy and tell daddy exactly what you know about your client.”

“Oh fuck.” Shaw wrested his arm free, planted a hand on Reck’s chest—the skin under that translucent shirt felt like magma—and shoved him back a step. “Oh fuck.”