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The rest of it was smothered in Flint’s kiss as Flint closed the distance between them. Flint’s mouth was warm, his lips were soft and persuasive, and Zach opened without hesitation to that silent question, losing himself for seconds that felt like lifetimes. It was expected and unexpected all at the same time, and over before Zach had time to fully realize it was happening.

“I hope so too,” Flint said. He wasn’t smiling. He looked very serious. “In fact, I haven’t been this hopeful in a long time.”

“Where do we go from here?”

Flint seemed to take him literally. “Your place or mine?”

They ended up at Zach’s.

As much as Zach wanted to see where Flint lived, Mr. Bigglesworth would be waiting for his dinner. After the events of the night before, Zach was a little uneasy about what was liable to happen in his absence. He’d been relying on nosy neighbors and the fact that he didn’t own much of value, but the previous night’s break-in had shattered his sense of security.

As much as Zach wanted to believe his attacker had only been after the Mustang, he couldn’t quite convince himself. But it was equally hard to believe someone wanted him dead, had staged the break-in to cover up intended murder.

What possible reason could anyone have for killing him?

Even if they were right about Rusty Jordan arranging for Alton’s fatal accident, it hadn’t been Rusty who Zach wrestled around with in the garage. Never mind that unshakeable alibi, Rusty was at least three inches shorter than Zach and a whole lot wider.

And what would be the point of going after Zach? Getting rid of Zach wouldn’t stop the investigation into Alton’s murder.

Rusty could have hired someone, of course. Someone like Chico? Zach didn’t think Chico had been his assailant, but he wasn’t sure, would not have wanted to swear to it either way.

Anyway, Zach’s it was. And they did not waste any time on drinks or dinner or even much conversation. They literally tumbled into Zach’s bed, grabbing and groping and fumbling with their clothes, laughing and breathless, like it was their first time—until they reached the serious business of hot velvet naked skin rubbing hot naked velvet skin. They were lost in the sensation of twining legs and hungry, searching hands.

“I’ve been thinking of this all day,” Flint muttered between love bites.

Zach gulped, “Me, too.”

His mouth locked onto Flint’s nipple and Flint groaned.

His stroking hands were bringing Zach closer and closer to the edge. Zach bucked against Flint, and Flint’s muscular thighs clamped around Zach’s hips, gripping him in heat and friction, they banged and rocked and finally slid into exquisite rhythm, every stroke and thrust sending jolts of electrifying pleasure across seemingly raw nerve-endings, almost too good to bear.

Orgasm rolled up and crashed over them in a relentless, sweeping tide of sticky, salty, sweet release. First Zach, then Flint with a half-laugh/half-shout. Or maybe Flint and then Zach? Too close to call. Not a competition. Teamwork. Both of them taking home the prize.

Flint was still laughing as Zach collapsed in his arms. It was the nicest, happiest sound in the world. It made Zach smile, lightened his heart. He couldn’t remember ever feeling that relaxed, that content. But wrapped in Flint’s muscular arms, it felt like there was a very real possibility of happiness becoming a regular thing.

Flint kissed his ear, said, “That was even better than last night.”

Zach gave a little laugh, but yeah. Last night had been sweet and surprising. Tonight was a revelation.

He couldn’t help asking, “What’s Detective Schneider going to say about this?”

He felt rather than saw Flint’s grimace. “I’m not sure there’s anything he hasn’t already said.”

Zach considered that. Considered the implications for himself. He would be smart not to get too used to this.

Flint seemed to read his mind. “There have been a lot of Schneiders over the years. I’ve always been honest with people I’m with, and I’ll be honest with you, too. I didn’t suggest we go into business together because I see you as a one-night stand.”

“It’s two nights now.”

“I’m serious.”

Zach had dropped his glasses early in the proceedings, so Flint’s face was a pale and unsmiling blur. He blinked up and Flint’s mouth covered his. Flint whispered, “I’m serious about you, Zachariah. Serious about giving this a chance.”

“You don’t really know me.”

“Sometimes you know without knowing.”

When Flint said it, it didn’t sound like a line. It felt like the truth. Maybe because it was how Zach felt, too. He felt like he’d come to know Flint better in the past week than he’d known Ben in all the years they were together.