A low groan rose from the other side of the bed, and some of the growing panic eased in his chest so he could draw in a deep breath. He turned his head toward the sound and brushed some curls from his face. Rowe’s feet weren’t too far from his nose. Looking over his shoulder, Noah found his lover sprawled naked across the bed, a light sheen of sweat glistening on his skin, drawing his eyes up to his black tattoo. Fuck, Rowe was sexy. If he could find the energy, he’d crawl up the man and start sucking the sweat off his skin, working back down to that lovely cock and balls until Rowe was shouting his name.

Later.

He’d rest for a few more minutes. Get some water. Maybe a snack. Then he’d fuck Rowe until his voice was hoarse from shouting.

“Whatever wicked thing you’re planning, just remember we’ve got to work tomorrow,” Rowe warned in a rough voice.

Noah felt his grin shift, growing even wider. He hadn’t even realized he’d been giving Rowe a wicked look. “Aren’t you the boss? You can come in late tomorrow.”

“It’s not the coming I’m worried about. It’s the walking funny.”

Noah chuckled and flopped onto the bed again. At that moment, he felt he’d be lucky if he ever walked again. A strong, rough hand dropped down on his ankle and started to rub the back of his calf. The last of the tension and worry that hummed through his frame instantly dissolved under Rowe’s touch.

From the moment they’d started dating, Rowe never hesitated to reach out to touch him. The only place he restrained himself was in the office, and there were plenty of times that he couldn’t stop himself there. Sometimes it was only a hand on his shoulder, the nape of his neck, a touch to his lower back. Didn’t matter. If Rowe could reach out and touch Noah, he did. He needed that almost constant contact like it was as critical to his survival as oxygen. Like it centered him. And Noah soaked it up. He never wanted to be out of reach of Rowe again.

A muffled chiming slowly drew his attention from where his brain lazily drifted. He didn’t want to move. He was too damn comfortable.

“Is that your phone?” Rowe asked.

“I was hoping it was yours,” Noah mumbled into the rumpled comforter.

“Nope. Mine’s on the nightstand beside me. Sounds like it’s coming from your side of the bed.”

Noah groaned. The ringing stopped and he sighed. He’d check the caller ID later. But before he could settle, his phone started ringing again. If there was a problem on a job, the person would be calling Rowe. This had to be something else. And likely important if the person was immediately calling again.

Grumbling to himself, he pulled his torso across the bed so he could reach the pile of clothes on the floor. His phone was still in his back pants pocket. As he grabbed the phone, his heart gave an uneven thump in his chest when he saw JB’s name flash across the screen. He hadn’t talked to his old Army buddy in…fuck…it had been at least a couple of years.

Jumping to his feet, Noah answered the call. “JB! What the hell, man. I haven’t heard—”

“Oh, thank God!” the familiar voice said in a rush, cutting off Noah’s warm greeting. There was a shaky mix of fear and relief rising through those three words. “I was afraid I was too late.”