...Cursing, he stumbled to Harley’s room, expecting to find his client full of fury and bluster. Instead, Harley stood, smiling in his black boxer briefs, opening the door to him. Harley didn’t have a bad body. He was slim, his ass and cock quite attractive in his clinging briefs. He wasn’t buff and toned like most of the guys Rylan dated, but he wasn’t bad looking at all. Rylan wished he could love Harley. Life would be so much simpler if his head could rule his heart. As his mother had told him repeatedly growing up, Rylan’s head and heart were one. Even on his palm, his heart and headlines were entwined.

“It will be the death of you,” she’d said. She thought he would grow up to be a hot head, and she wasn’t wrong. When his father died when Rylan was fifteen, grief and rage propelled him to get into street fights. Constantly. He had always been a big kid but not a tough one, so he frequently went home bruised and bloodied.

She’d taken him to the local gym in Echo Park, right on the edge of the fabled lake in Los Angeles. He began to train as a boxer. He’d loved the sport but lacked the killer instinct. He was a lover, not a fighter. He’d developed skills and confidence, which carried him through his late teens and early twenties. He could defend himself now, but had mastered his temper enough to stay out of street fights.

He had the Athens Olympics in his sights and seemed destined to win the gold medal in his division after some amazing victories in his amateur bouts. And then three bad things occurred, converging at the worst possible time in his life. His mom died suddenly in her sleep, right before Rylan competed at the Olympic trials. He’d been the one to find her. Losing her had wrecked his focus…and all his dreams. He lost her and his hopes of a medal. Capping off his bad run was Gino, a handsome rogue of a guy who crushed him by stealing from him and running out on him. Rylan had not let another man get close to him since then.

“I ordered some of that chocolate grappa you like so much,” Harley said, breaking into Rylan’s mental meanderings into his sad past. “I asked them to find a bottle. They had two flown in from Italy.”

Rylan shook his head, speechless at how much trouble Harley had gone to, just for him.

“Wow, Harley,” he finally managed.

Ushering him into his astonishing suite, Harley, who could act so jaded, looked in wonderment at his gorgeous surroundings. For a few moments, Rylan forgot everything, except the beauty of this room.

“It’s really something. Isn’t it?” Harley padded over to a small silver serving tray and returned with two liqueur glasses. “To us.”

Rylan held the glass in his hand, hoping his big fingers wouldn’t snap the delicate stem. He accepted the toast and took a sip. Wonderful. He noticed that Harley had a gigantic fruit basket and executive gift basket containing lots of things he knew Harley would love. Lotions, candles, cotton gloves and all kinds of feel-good items spilled out of the basket’s confines.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

You don’t know the half of it.

Rylan appreciated how tender and concerned Harley was being, how much trouble he’d gone to with the trip, the restaurant, even Rylan’s favorite liqueur. Rylan took off his messenger bag, dropped it onto a chair and stepped into Harley’s arms, careful not to spill a drop of chocolaty goodness.

Harley laughed. “I was wondering when I’d get a proper greeting.”

They exchanged hot kisses. Rylan liked feeling and seeing how hard Harley got. He allowed Harley to remove his shirt and pants. He kicked off his shoes and took off his socks.

“Get on the bed, Harley.”

“Make me.”