Jack came in, followed closely by Riley, and they came bearing yet more beer and boxes of finger-type food that they put in the kitchen. They looked really good, calm, relaxed, and Eli pulled them both into hugs. Being daddies looked good on them, except for the suspicious stain on the back of Jack’s shirt. Eli considered telling the guy, but Robbie beat him to it with some comment about babies and sick and milk.

Jack sighed and left to change, and by the time he was back, the house was full—a large bus had pulled up and deposited Eli’s models. He loved the guys he worked with, although in small doses simply because they were models. Which meant, realistically, some of them were a little on the vain side, and he was being charitable when he said that.

It occurred to him that maybe he should have gotten Robbie to help him put up more mirrors, then they wouldn’t all want to use the one in the bathroom. Some had brought girlfriends or boyfriends, others came on their own, and the mix was interesting. Every single one complimented the house with its large entry hall and front room and the whole open-plan organization of the build. The fact one room seamlessly moved to another meant the various groups all managed to find places, and the food Jack and Riley had brought over was disappearing at a fast rate.

Eli considered calling for pizza. Lots of pizza.

“We’re running out of beer,” Robbie whispered in his ear. Last Eli had seen him he’d been talking to one of the models new to the agency Eli used, a tall willowy blond guy with the most amazing turquoise eyes the camera loved.

“We can’t be,” Eli said immediately.

“I’ll show you.” Robbie grabbed his hand and led him to the kitchen, then gestured him into the pantry area. Eli walked in and frowned. There was plenty of beer in here. What was Robbie up to?

His answer came when Robbie shut the door on the amused faces of some of the guests and pushed Eli up against the door.

“I just needed a kiss recharge,” Robbie said with a grin before swooping in for the hottest kiss ever. Eli could get off just from kissing Robbie alone, and so much love filtered through his body. To think he’d been so close to dying and to never feeling Robbie holding him or tasting or lying in bed just hugging. An overwhelming need to hold Robbie tight gripped him, and Eli heard Robbie exhale sharply when Eli tightened his hold.

“You okay?”

“Love you.”

“Love you too,” Robbie answered softly. His lips were puffy from kissing, and his dark blue eyes were so much more intense than that model’s ever would be, simply because they shone with intent and love.

Together they adjusted their pants, exchanged smiles, grabbed a beer each, and left the pantry to various catcalls. Robbie leaned against the doorjamb and crossed his arms over his chest, tapping the beer on his elbow.

“Next,” he called.

Eli joined in the laughing and swallowed his beer.

“You’ve got a good one there,” a voice said from next to him. One of the models. “And fucking gorgeous to boot.” A comment like that before would have made him jealous, but he and Robbie were past that. Way past it. He only had one answer he could give.

“I know.”

* * * * *

Marcus arrived about an hour after the party started, and Liam was nursing a can of Coke. He didn’t want Marcus to have any thoughts that what Liam wanted was because of alcohol and anyway he was too wired to drink anything, even the damn soft drink. Tonight was the night that he told Marcus he loved him, the moment when Liam wanted their relationship to move to the next level, emotionally and sexually. Marcus had been so damn kind and caring—always concerned about Liam and about how Liam was feeling. Forever stopping when they kissed and asking if things were okay and was Liam happy to kiss and was it okay to blow him.

Shit.

That had to be the most stupid question of all. What man didn’t want a blow job? Especially one from Marcus, who appeared to be an enthusiastic expert in blow jobs? Not that Liam had much experience. Hank had been all about the breeding crap. Liam sighed. That fucker had used those exact words, all porn-star quality, every time he went anywhere near Liam. Add to the pain and being forced, and Liam had a lot of memories in his head, fighting for space. But not tonight.

Tonight was all about him and Marcus. Liam wasn’t sure he could bottom, but he wanted to at least try. He never thought he’d let anyone near him again. Marcus had said he switched. Maybe he would let Liam top him tonight? That would be a start. He didn’t have to have a cock anywhere near his ass this soon. Did he?

Never mind that when Marcus blew him, he would use lube and unerringly locate Liam’s prostate every time. Fingers in Liam’s ass, two, three gently tapping the sweet spot, stretching him, was as far as you could get from pushing in and tearing.

Liam winced and his ass clenched in worry. He forced himself to relax. All they’d done for the last few weeks since the attack was talk and do everything except the one thing Liam felt was missing. He wanted the memories of Hank gone, and he wanted to be with Marcus forever. Simple. Should he think about it longer? Would the counselling actually work? He needed to get Hank out of his head and commit to Marcus. Not just physically but mentally as well.

“Liam, Marcus has pulled up!” Jack called from the window over the noise of the talking. Liam swallowed nervously, then placed the Coke on the nearest surface.

“Assume you’re going, Liam?” Robbie asked from his side.

“If that’s okay, sorry, I know you’re celebrating the house and all—”

“Go. Get your man. Show him what you want.”

“Thank you, Robbie. You and Jack, Eli, Riley, you’ve helped me so much. I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you.”

“Just by being happy,” Robbie finally said. Then he scowled. “Fuck, this beer is turning me into a freaking Hallmark moment.

Liam grinned at him and held out his hand to shake Robbie’s. Robbie took the hand and they exchanged a quick hug, no back-slapping though because Robbie held beer and had a tube of Pringles under his arm. Then Liam made his way through lounging models and other very gorgeous people—none of whom held a candle to Marcus. He walked to the door a boy with a belly full of memories that could possibly fell a lesser person. But when his feet hit Texas dirt outside the house and with Marcus walking toward him in the moonlit night, abruptly Liam was a man.

A man who knew what he wanted.

He hurried the few feet to greet Marcus but didn’t kiss him hello. “Come with me,” he ordered the bemused man. Together they climbed the metal steps to Liam’s apartment and shut the door.

“What about the party?” Marcus asked, confusion evident in his voice and reflected in his dark eyes.

“Private party,” Liam said boldly. Then before he could change his mind and let fear wander into his thoughts, he turned on the lamp by his bed and pulled the drapes. Slowly he unbuttoned his shirt and let it fall to the floor, then crossed his arms to remove his T over his head. He knew he wasn’t the most buff person on the ranch; he certainly didn’t have Robbie’s firm, muscled body or, come to think of it, Jack’s, but he tensed his muscles and hoped to hell that Marcus liked what he saw.

“Liam?” Marcus asked. “I like what we have, we don’t have to do anything else—”

“Shhh,” Liam warned. Then he slipped open the buttons on his fly and toed off his boots at the same time before pushing his jeans down. He’d gone commando in the hope that somehow he’d be able to get Marcus’s hands on him tonight even if it was for a quick hand job, and the fact didn’t appear to go unnoticed by Marcus. His hands clenched into fists at his side.

“I want you to make love to me,” Liam said softly. He was hard and he reached to hold himself.