"I'm so sorry for Eli," he said. His voice was muffled against Riley but his husband heard him. Riley eased him up until Jack was lying next to him.

"Me too," he admitted. "He'll be okay. He's got this whole 'getting out there and doing things now' kind of attitude. I actually feel sorry for anyone who gets in his way."

Talking turned to kissing and when they began to make love it was slow and long and so full of love that Jack was choked.

He kissed a path from lips to chest again. The two cinnamon discs on Riley's chest were two of Jack's favorite things, along with Riley's height, his hair, his eyes, the taste of him, his legs, ass, back, shoulders… hell, everything. The cool evening breeze moved the thin net curtains at the window. Riley reached into the top drawer of the small bedside table and pulled out lube. The pure intimacy with which Riley moved when Jack was stretching him was never as exquisite as the sounds he made when Jack took him.

"Now," Riley murmured. Jack took no notice; he was running this show, and he wanted slow and steady even as he pushed his way in and kissed the wince of burn from Riley's lips.

"Shhh," he whispered. "I'll get you there." Curling himself around Riley, fingers tracing each muscle and the taut cords of his neck, Jack buried himself again and again. Every push was accompanied by whispers of encouragement and Riley was cursing and writhing on Jack's dick until finally he came with a shout muffled by Jack's kiss.

Jack felt that he would have to be superhuman not to have come as soon as he entered Riley but somehow Jack had managed to make it last. He pushed deep inside one final time and came hard in Riley. Replete and exhausted Jack managed to stumble to the bathroom and find a cloth and, finally cleaned, he checked in on Hayley and then they both slumped back onto the bed. The humidity in the room was too much to be under the covers.

"Do you still want dinner?" Jack asked.

"Too tired," Riley replied.

"It's only nine."

"You wore me out." Riley moved his face against the cool pillows and suddenly all Jack wanted to do was lie here next to his husband.

"Did you lock up?" Riley asked. His voice sounded sleepy.

"Uh huh," Jack replied, "When I checked on Hayley."

"Hayley's okay?"

"Fast asleep."

Riley snuggled in close and Jack wrapped his arms around him.

Nothing was taking Riley from him. Not another man, or woman, or cancer, or anything.

Ever.

CHAPTER 8

Robbie paused inside the open door. The man that was standing in the kitchen with his fingers dancing over a phone was not Jack, nor Riley. The air was redolent with the smell of cooking and a quick glance to the sink showed a pile of peelings that indicated the meal included potatoes at least.

"Hi," Robbie said. The other guy was turned half away from him and clearly hadn't heard him come into the kitchen. He also apparently hadn't heard Robbie say hi. Either that or he was terminally rude.

"No. I don't want him again," other-guy snapped. For a second Robbie was startled at the vehemence in the man's voice then just as quickly realized he had earbuds in and was clearly talking on his phone. "Because last time he stripped naked, waggled his dick in my face, and asked me to call him sir." Robbie couldn't help the raising of his eyebrows at that statement. "Then I caught him oiling up Harvey in the back room. No. Okay. Find me someone else." With a heavy sigh he finished the call and pulled the earbuds from his ears. "Fuck," he muttered.

"Hi," Robbie tried again. The guy jumped a foot in the air and whirled to face Robbie.

"Shit!" He grasped at his chest dramatically and his eyes were wide with shock. "You scared the fuck out of me."

"Sorry," Robbie apologized. He watched as the guy waved away the apology with a grin.

"It's cool. I needed snapping out of my oncoming temper tantrum." He extended his hand in welcome. "Eli Martin, friend of Riley's."

Robbie took the hand and shook it. "Robbie. I work here."

Eli cast an appraising look up and then deliberately down the full length of Robbie, all while he gripped Robbie's hand.

"I bet you do," he near purred.

Robbie became a little concerned, pulled his hand away, and pushed it deep into his pocket. He was ignoring the firm grasp and the slide of skin on skin like he had imagined it all. Eli was still staring. For a second Robbie wondered if he had nicked himself shaving or something, so intently was Eli examining his face. When Jack had muttered about having a guest for dinner Robbie had made an effort because he didn't know who it was. He had showered, shaved, and dressed in his best jeans, the ones from the wedding, before pulling on a clean pale blue Tshirt. Hell, he'd even tried to tame his unruly hat hair with gel that Paul had bought him three years before. Of course he'd had to scrape away the crusty end of the tube but the gel was still sticky and his sun-bleached blond hair took on a tousled, wild appearance.

He wasn't sure where to look and was now moving way past uncomfortable to downright verging on pissed. The gaze of Eli's green eyes—his deep mossy eyes with amber flecks—was so focused that the inspection seared through Robbie. Instead of returning the gaze Robbie focused straight ahead on Eli's short, spiky dark hair.

"You're a cowboy?" Eli asked finally.

Robbie wasn't sure where to place the tone in Eli's voice. He sounded almost excited and at the same time disbelieving.

"Yes," Robbie answered. He took a step back and away from the guy who would not quit with the freaky staring.

"Have you ever thought of modeling?"

The question was so far out of left field that Robbie was momentarily speechless. In all of his near thirty years he had never been handed that particular inquiry. Robbie stared directly into green eyes and swallowed. Eli was vibrating with visible tension and he really wasn't sure what the hell was going on.

"Leave Robbie alone."

Robbie was never more grateful when Jack, followed by Riley and Hayley, entered the kitchen.

"But he's so pretty and I wasn't touching," Eli whined.

Robbie was damn sure he had never been called pretty before. Hot. Hard. Sexy. Never pretty. Not that he believed much of what he was told. Besides, Eli was the pretty one. Shorter than him, he had full lips and the longest eyelashes. Eli was all city; polished and urbane, and Robbie couldn't help himself and dropped his gaze to Eli's crotch to admire the way his pants were pulled by his groin. Jack moved between Robbie and Eli and quirked his lips in a wry smile.