Chapter 28

Yesterday, he would have let them.

Today, he had a reason to fight back.

“We’re probably spending the night,” Joe said. “You know that, right?”

Carlo paused before answering. “Well, you did pay for the room.”

He scowled. He didn’t like the way Carlo made it sound sordid, as if Joe saw him as a prostitute and nothing else. “It had to look legit.”

“I know.”

“Would you rather be sleeping on that ratty couch of mine?”

The mattress shifted as Carlo stood, and though Joe kept his gaze on the ceiling, only a blind man would miss Carlo’s retreat, the shadow at the periphery, needing permission to become solid. “I’ve got good memories of that couch,” Carlo said quietly.

Immediately, heat washed over Joe, bodily recall as powerful as any of the images Carlo’s words evoked. It would be easy—too easy—to indulge in more, but he’d made his decision, regardless of what Carlo might push for. He had to ignore what his flesh begged for and satisfy what his soul needed.