I sighed. I was stuck with this, wasn’t I?
Or are you giving in because you want to?
I did not like that sneaky ass little voice in my head. I wanted Lane safe, but there were other people who could do that.
The problem was none of them were me. None of them had my skill set, and for some fucking reason—and without my permission—my brain had decided Lane was mine. The thought of trusting him to someone else made my stomach roil, and the thought of someone else touching him made me want to shoot something, preferably the person who dared touch him.
I pushed those thoughts aside and focused on what I was supposed to be doing, checking the security of Lane’s apartment. I checked the windows in the small living room. I didn’t think Lane would object if I walked into the bedroom while he was in there, but I didn’t need that level of temptation. Instead, I checked the bathroom. The only way in would be through the ductwork. I didn’t think his stalker was likely to try that.
I opened the door to what I assumed was a second bedroom and froze.
It was obviously Lane’s studio. There were a few easels set up, both of which held canvases with paintings in progress. Other canvases leaned against the walls, and sculptural pieces sat on a table. All the art, even the paintings, contained found objects that he’d attached, giving them texture. The art was abstract, but each communicated a different emotion. I was hardly an art expert. Sure, I found some paintings visually appealing, but others I didn’t get. Most modern art seemed pointless to me, but every piece of Lane’s had feeling to it that jumped out. He truly was talented.
“Don’t touch anything in here,” Lane yelled. It was the only time I’d heard him raise his voice except for when he argued with the man I now knew was Hendon at Ignite.
“I know how to inspect a home without breaking anything. I’m the best, remember? That’s why you wanted me.”
His cheeks reddened, making him even more fucking gorgeous. That flush had traveled all the way down and across his chest when I’d fucked him. He’d been so beautiful like that, all hot and needy. My cock twitched at the memory, and I forced myself to focus on the current moment. I was not going to stand there in front of him with a fucking hard-on. I had to keep this professional.
“Most of these pieces are for my gallery showing. If anything happens to them, I won’t have time to make more.”
“I’m not going to harm your art.”
“You may not realize how fragile some of these pieces are. The windows in here are all locked, and none of them lead to the fire escape, so I don’t think—”
“Lane, I know this is important to you. I may be here as your security, but I’m not some dumb jock with more muscles than brains who’s going to bust through here like a bull and knock everything over.”
He sighed and started to run his hand through his hair just like he had back at the office. Once again, he stopped himself when he touched his perfectly styled coif. His hand fell back to his side.
“I’m sorry. I’m a little tense about the show, and I never let anyone in here. I don’t like anyone to see my pieces ahead of a showing. When I came home and realized Alan had been here… It was horrible, knowing he could have destroyed my art, seeing threats written on canvases I’d laid out to use on new pieces.” Lane shuddered and looked close to tears. I had a strong urge to pull him into my arms. Knowing that wasn’t an option, I tried for distraction.
“Your work is very impressive.”
His eyes widened, and he stared at me. Why had I said that? I was supposed to be making him not like me. I could’ve bumped into an easel or… No, I would never do anything to potentially damage his hard work. But I could have continued to let him assume I wasn’t capable of taking care of his belongings.
Instead, I was complimenting him.
“You like my work?”
I glanced around the room taking in several of the pieces more carefully. “I do. It’s not something I would’ve expected to like, but I can see all the thought you put into it.”
“Thank you. I… Just do what you need to do. I’m going to go pack.”
Lane seemed younger and much less sure of himself. I’d assumed some of his swagger was an act, but seeing him like that, looking more vulnerable than he had when he was pinned under me, didn’t do a damn thing to squash my protective urges.
What could I do to get rid of this… crush? No, I wasn’t some kid. Obsession? Fuck, I wasn’t some creeper either. Whatever the hell hold he had on me, I was never going to be able to get over it if he kept looking at me like that.