Well-Tailored (Thorne and Dash 4)

Their food arrived a few moments later, and it was as amazing as Riley had promised. Marc finally had to push his plate away, lest he be too stuffed to walk out. As lunch wrapped up, Kathryn’s teasing about Riley’s Brat Pack movie obsession led to a conversation about favorite films.

“Marc’s been forcing me to watch a bunch of ’90s rom-coms,” Darius said.

“Forcing?”

Darius winked at him, and he was fairly certain he heard Riley’s business partner, Susan, sigh. Darius was too fucking much. Good thing his attention seemed focused on Marc.

“Come on, Pretty Woman, Dirty Dancing, You’ve Got Mail. How can anyone not love these gems?”

“Some of them don’t stand the test of time like others,” Susan said. “But I rewatched Pretty Woman the other day, and it was just as awesome as it was back in the 1990s, even considering Edward’s phone was larger than my purse.”

That set off a general fit of laughter. Then Thorne’s assistant, Lauren, said, “My favorites are mindless action movies, the more self-deprecating the better. There’s nothing like a movie that knows how to make fun of itself, and if Vin Diesel and his biceps are in it, all the better.”

“Too bloody right,” Darius said, and Marc thought Lauren might swoon.

That was good to know. Next movie night, he’d have to pull out Xander Cage.

Darius looked over at him then. The heat in his eyes had Marc wishing he could loosen his pants. Maybe it was time for them to get out of there.

Lauren had continued gushing, moving on to The Rock’s illustrious career, but she stopped speaking midsentence. She and Susan were both watching Darius as if waiting for him to pounce. Neither of them looked like they’d mind watching.

Darius pushed his chair back and stood. “I think maybe the happy couple would like some time alone now.”

“Very much,” Thorne agreed.

Darius watched Marc like a predator. “Are you ready to get out of here?”

Marc should say something, but the weight of Darius’s attention had him stunned. He knew people were talking all around them, but the words grew indistinct. Darius seemed to take up all the space in the room. Then the scrape of a chair against the floor broke the spell.

Everyone stood and started one last round of hugs. Once he broke free, Darius grabbed him, and they rushed for the door.

***

He and Marc were all over each other as soon as they shut the door to their suite. They left a trail of clothes as they headed to the bedroom. The sex was fast and furious, but oh-so-satisfying.

As they lay there facing each other in the aftermath, Darius tried to work up the nerve to talk to Marc about moving to Thorne and Riley’s building. He wasn’t sure why it made him so nervous. Marc had been taking costume orders for a few months. They’d discussed expanding, but this move, the way he conceived it, would truly create a partnership. Two shops working together. Joined. Like a marriage.

Marc ran a finger down his cheek. “What are you thinking so hard about?”

Darius took Marc’s hand and held it. “I’ve been thinking about some big changes.”

Marc’s eyes widened. “You have?”

Darius’s pulse sped up. He didn’t want to just blurt it out, so he started at the beginning. “I got an offer for the store.”

Marc tensed. “A what?”

“An offer to sell the store, and it got me thinking about where I wanted to be. I’d never imagined staying in Atlanta for so long, and I’ve nearly outgrown the space, especially now that you’re working with me.”

Marc pulled his hand away and scrambled off the bed.

Motherfucker, Darius hadn’t even proposed the move yet and Marc was angry. “What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong? You’re thinking about selling, and you’re asking me what’s wrong?”

Marc walked out of the bedroom, and Darius followed him. This was going even worse than he’d expected. He thought he’d have to talk Marc into the move, convince him they could keep growing, that the joint venture had enough potential to warrant the expansion, but he hadn’t thought Marc would be so hostile.

He watched as Marc rifled through his suitcase and pulled out a pair of jeans and a sweater. He jammed his legs into his pants, pulled them up, and reached for his shirt.

“Marc, I don’t understand why you’re so mad. I’m not taking the offer. I just want to talk to you about moving the store, and—”

“Moving? You think I’m going to move because some man who’s too scared to even call himself my boyfriend or lover or what the fuck ever wants me to?”

What the hell? “How the hell would I know you wanted me to be your boyfriend?”

“Well, it doesn’t matter now.” Marc shoved his feet into his shoes and reached for the door handle.

This had gone from nerve-racking to infuriating to bizarre. What the hell did Marc think he was saying? “Would you just let me finish?”