Thorn
Forty-Second Floor of the Bank of Tidewater
Lucas’s Office
Downtown Norfolk, Virginia
“So, tell me more of this broken hearts business?”
It hurt Thorn to watch Lucas go to his wet bar and pour himself a triple of Kauffman Private from the almost empty bottle of expensive vodka. He closed his eyes as Lucas downed it all in one gulp before he poured himself another, drinking his ruin one glass at a time.
“Are you pouring liquid courage? Does that nine-hundred-dollar bottle of liquor really help you forget what you’ve lost?”
“Sounds more like your profession is judging people’s vices,” Lucas bit back.
“Never,” Thorn murmured in the dark office. “I have a few vices of my own.”
“Oh yeah?” Lucas challenged, his voice laced with doubt. “Like what?”
Thorn needed to be honest and more forthcoming with Lucas, or else he’d enforce that order for him to leave, and the last thing he wanted was for Lucas to question if he was trustworthy.
He was an intelligent, successful executive, and men with that kind of prestige didn’t like to feel like suckers. Thorn was there with a purpose—several—and none of them were to piss Lucas off.
“I’ll tell you exactly what my vices are, but first, I have a more pressing matter.”
Thorn faced the devastatingly handsome man and prayed the drama he was bringing to Lucas’s life didn’t also get him tossed out.
“The matter that has you here at almost four in the morning.”
“Yes.” Thorn exhaled before he let it all out. “I’m sorry to have to bring this to you, but I didn’t want you to be blindsided when the police come to question you.”
Lucas set his half-drained glass down. “Well, now I’m intrigued.”
Thorn swallowed the lump in his throat. “The night you scared away my abusive ex…”
“Yeah.” Lucas’s light eyes darkened. “I remember well. Why? Is he still bothering you?”
Thorn pfftd sadly. “No, he’s not. Um, actually, he’s missing and presumed dead.”
Lucas didn’t make a move or speak for a long moment before he asked casually, “Did you kill him?”
Heat as hot as lava rose to Thorn’s face—not from embarrassment—from the sheer insult of the question.
Sure, Lucas didn’t know him, but did he really see him as a killer?
“Fuck.” Thorn huffed. “No. I can barely kill a spider in my office.”
“Okay. So what does—”
“The police retrieved the video surveillance from the restaurant that night, and apparently, they want to question you. They came to my house and insisted I go downtown for questioning tonight. I’m pretty sure they’re looking to question you now.”
“Is that the only reason you called me?”
Thorn was thrown off by how calm Lucas was after being told he was a person of interest in a homicide investigation.
He shook his head to try to align his thoughts. “It’s the reason I called you this evening.” Thorn took his own step closer. “I would’ve had a different reason for calling you this weekend.”
Lucas looked as if he liked the sound of that.
Thorn was excited and scared as goosebumps prickled along his skin like jagged nails down his forearms.
“I came straight here from the police station.”
“I appreciate the heads-up,” Lucas answered. “But if your ex was killed, I certainly had nothing to do with it.”
“I know. But you’ll have to prove that.”
Lucas shrugged. “I’m not worried, Thorn. I never saw that guy again after he left the restaurant. And if the police don’t want to accept what I have to say, then I have a team of lawyers I pay a lot of money to handle shit I don’t have time to deal with.”
“I know you didn’t go after Evan… It was most likely a drug deal gone bad.” Thorn sighed.
“Again…I’m not concerned.”
Lucas was so confident and sure, two qualities Thorn had always admired and found extremely attractive in a man.
For the first time in nine years, he wanted to invite someone to Belladonna for himself.
Lucas Brewer was supposed to be for Lincoln, but Thorn couldn’t do it, and he was still trying to figure out why.
Why was Lucas’s heart calling out only to him?
Thorn was a master at placing the right damaged soul with the perfect gentleman. He was a believer that souls sought out their true soul mate and could recognize it immediately. Lucas needed Belladonna, but Thorn didn’t want to entrust him to anyone else.
“Now…back to your business,” Lucas demanded.
Thorn set aside his intense attraction and focused on Lucas’s many questions. “You asked if I had vices. I do. My gentlemen are my weakness, and what I often use as a distraction.”
“Your what ?”
Thorn walked across the Persian rug and stood inches from Lucas. He smelled of fine liquor and designer cologne, a sexy combination that had Thorn off his ordinarily flawless game.
“My gentlemen. I have a house on a private strip of beach on the oceanfront at the end of the boardwalk.”
“I know the area.” Lucas’s eyes bored into him. “You mean you have an estate.”
Thorn tilted his head side to side. “A mansion. And it’s full of kind, loyal, compassionate men who know what it’s like when the heart is broken beyond repair… when all seems hopeless.”
“I’m not interested in hope,” Lucas whispered, his deep voice sending an inexplicable shiver down Thorn’s back.
“Yes, you are. My men know how to restore that too.” Thorn took a chance and placed his hand in the center of Lucas’s chest.
He shuddered at the quickening thud of Lucas’s heart slamming into his palm, each beat a firm warning that he was trespassing where no one was allowed again.
But Thorn didn’t pull away.
“And how exactly did you heal my friend Oliver after his divorce, Thorn?” Lucas narrowed his hazel eyes.
A flare of jealousy flashed in Lucas’s gaze that made him pause, but he didn’t remove his hands from Lucas’s chest.
“Not me,” he answered. “I haven’t been with any of the—”
Without warning, Lucas’s mouth closed over his, hot and possessive, burning his lips as he took what he wanted.
Thorn swore the room tilted as Lucas licked his way inside his mouth.
Desire gathered and solidified below his belt, but what he was feeling went far deeper.
Thorn didn’t realize he was moving until the backs of his legs met a piece of furniture. It was as if Thorn was under Lucas’s spell when he ended the kiss abruptly, leaving him panting.
Lucas was staring into his eyes, their glares dueling as he cupped the base of Thorn’s neck, his touch firm but full of passion, and coaxed him to lie back on the oversized ottoman.
Lucas stood over him, every inch the powerful giant Thorn had built him up to be in his nightly fantasies: broad, commanding, sure with overwhelming confidence.
Thorn had always liked poised, intelligent men, the kind who could undo him with a one look.
But Lucas…Lucas was so much more. He was self-assurance and sorrow in a tailored, single-breasted Prada suit.
Slowly, deliberately, Lucas began to undo the rest of the buttons on his white dress shirt, each flick of his fingers a silent challenge.
He was giving Thorn every chance to stop him if it wasn’t what he wanted. But Thorn didn’t move. He didn’t want to move. He needed this connection more than he needed his next breath.
He didn’t know what expression he gave Lucas, only that the business mogul’s eyes ignited with fire, as if he’d read Thorn’s desire like a well-written proposal.
Lucas popped the last button open on his slacks, followed closely by the metallic clink of his belt sliding free.
The sound was daunting in the silence, and Thorn shivered in anticipation, every nerve in him coming alive after a long slumber.
Lucas’s chest wasn’t carved into granite-hard, and he didn’t have sculpted abs, as if he’d just finished a photo shoot for Men’s Fitness .
No, Lucas had the body of a man who’d built an empire behind a desk—without hours to spend pumping iron in a gym—showing he didn’t need to be a perfect six-two with ten percent body fat to be desirable and downright fuckin’ hot as hell.
His heart thundered against his ribs, rattling his chest, every beat sharper, harder—climbing, escalating—until he swore he might explode.
The heat inside him had grown unbearable, a fever he knew this man could quench. Lucas Brewer wasn’t just undressing. He was unraveling Thorn’s control, peeling away the last of the defenses he clung to. Stealing what he’d been foolish enough to guard—his thoughts, pride, ego…heart.
When Lucas’s pants hit the floor, Thorn tried not to overact, but his appetite was so severe it was painful. It was a hunger that wasn’t simply physical—it was primal, spiritual, an ache carved into him.
He wanted this man as he had never wanted another, with staggering desperation, and the kind of longing that made him feel both ruined and reborn.
And as Lucas towered above him, shirt hanging open, his dick bulging at the front of his boxer briefs, authority radiating off him in waves, Thorn realized, Lucas wasn’t the only one surrendering to his hesitation.
“If your haven really is what you say it is…” Lucas stepped out of his pants and socks. “Then yeah, maybe I’m a little interested.”
Thorn exhaled with relief. “Good to hear.”
“But I reserve the right to keep company with the gentleman of my choosing.”
Oh damn. Thorn was a second away from exploding.
He wasn’t a fool—he knew who Lucas wanted. But he didn’t know if his heart was repaired enough to heal another’s.
All he knew was, for the first time in many years, he wanted to try.
Thorn removed his black Armani suit jacket, but nothing else. He pressed his back into the soft cushion, keeping his eyes locked on Lucas, and slowly pulled the elastic band down his ponytail, letting his long black hair flow over his shoulder.
Lucas’s look was pure approval as he lay on top of him, his hot, naked skin searing him even through his dress shirt.
Lucas wove his blunt fingertips through his hair until they reached his scalp.
He moaned, his hips thrusting in response to the massage.
Lucas grabbed a handful of his locks and pulled until his throat was accessible.