Page 17 of Lost (Powertools: The Shields 2)

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Marcus trudged from his bedroom when the aroma of coffee and something cinnamon-y penetrated his dreams. Dreams where instead of prowling the woods while Sola rolled her eyes at his obvious possessive jealousy, he had caved to the urge to bust in on Kennedy and Knox in that rickety cabin and done his best to make her come apart for him like she had for her bastard of an ex.

He’d woken up with an erection at least as solid as the one he’d had while on their op the day before and without the privacy to do anything about it. So Marcus had splayed on his bed, ruminating about the even shittier moments of the day before—like the one where he’d thought that stray Viper was going to murder Kennedy before he could do anything to stop it.

Or how he had been forced to protect the man who’d fucked his obsession. Worse, Knox had made sure—even in those unusual circumstances—that she’d enjoyed it and then had the audacity to get credit for saving her life even though he’d been the one to put her in harm’s way in the first place.

Marcus was completely screwed up about the whole operation.

Everything regarding the situation made him uncomfortable. Physically, as he shifted his deflated package and aching balls, and mentally also.

Marcus glared at Knox as he entered the kitchen. The other man had made himself right at home in Marcus’s damn apartment, which was still pretty new even to him. He loved living so close to Kennedy and the rest of the team, since it was impossible for outsiders to understand what his job entailed unless they’d also been some sort of soldier or undercover agent. Especially since so much of what he did wasn’t something he could discuss in polite company.

And now that newfound sense of sanctuary had been shattered by Knox, who became the focal point for his bad mood.

“Hope you don’t mind. I was starving.” Knox gestured to the bowl of oatmeal with cinnamon on top neatly positioned on the placemat in front of him with the banana he was peeling as he spoke. “I made enough for both of us, plus a pot of coffee. And I got the ingredients together for some fresh fruit smoothies, but I was waiting for you to wake up to turn on the blender.”

Marcus took one look at Knox, shirtless, at his dining room table, popping a big chunk of the now-peeled banana into his mouth and spun away with a grunt. Son of a bitch, was he going to deep throat the thing or eat it?

“Not a morning person, huh?” Knox asked, incredibly bubbly for someone on the run from a gang of some of the baddest motherfuckers on the planet. Then again, he had escaped near certain death the day before with bonus sex thrown in to make his evasion even sweeter.

Sure, he hadn’t come but still, it would have been an honor to pleasure Kennedy.

Marcus poured himself a mug of coffee and plopped into the seat farthest away from Knox. That left them at opposite ends of the table, staring each other down. It irritated him more that he didn’t hate the scenery.

“Maybe I could borrow a T-shirt and some shorts?” Knox winced as he looked down at his bare torso. The graze from the day before had morphed into a rainbow of bruises and raw skin from yellow to red to purple. Marcus didn’t check under the table, but he was pretty sure Knox was perched on his brand-new chair in his briefs since he didn’t have any other options except the jeans he’d been wearing the day before. His shirt had been ruined when he’d nearly traded his life for Kennedy’s.

Marcus shifted guiltily as he remembered how much he owed this prick.

“Yeah, of course.” He started to stand.

“Eat first.” Knox was surprisingly considerate. “Here, let me warm your oatmeal and get those smoothies blended. I assume you work out a lot. You’re going to need a solid breakfast before you hit the gym.”

Marcus opened his mouth to object but, well, Knox wasn’t wrong. “Uh. I guess. Thanks.”

His new and very temporary roommate made it damn hard to hate him. With his back turned, Marcus allowed himself to stare at the expanse of light, almost pink skin dotted with freckles on his shoulder blades. It complemented his ginger hair and made a perfect canvas for the Viper tattoo snaking its way up his spine. It was a shame it wasn’t better quality work, although Marcus despised what it represented.

Figured, Kennedy had an eye for hot men. But both of them would do well to remember that this was the person who’d betrayed her once and would likely do so again given half a chance.

That didn’t stop Marcus’s assessing gaze from sliding lower to Knox’s tight ass, which filled out his black briefs perfectly, then on to his thighs and calves. While they weren’t bulked, they were cut and without a single bit of fat to mar the shape of his muscles.

“You’re no stranger to exercise, yourself.” Marcus hadn’t meant to say that. Damn it. He needed to get more of this coffee into his system before he did something stupid, like pinning the man up against the counter so they could relieve some of the sexual tension neither of them had gotten to blow off yesterday.

Knox glanced over his shoulder with a wicked grin that promised he knew Marcus had been staring. Then he turned on the blender so neither of them had to respond. When he finished, he poured them each some and delivered Marcus’s before washing out the glass pitcher and placing it upside down in the drying rack. He wiped the counter, the appliance, and wrung out the dishrag before carrying his own serving back to the table.

Marcus took several gulps to cool himself off from the inside out. And damn if it wasn’t good. He held the glass up and stared at it as if he could see the individual ingredients. “What’d you put in this?”

“Mango, pineapple, lime, yogurt, and protein powder.” Knox hummed as he drained his glass too. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had fresh fruit.”

“The Viper den kitchen isn’t stocked?” Marcus regretted asking the instant the question left his lips.

Knox glanced away at that. “Maybe. But for a long time, food wasn’t what I was craving. It’s been a few months now that I’ve been clean and, well, I’m still working on regaining muscle and building my stamina. I abused myself plenty over the past ten years and it had gotten really bad. All my bones were poking out and…well, it wasn’t pretty.”

He set his drink down as if his appetite had vanished just thinking about it. And somehow that made Marcus feel like shit when he shouldn’t care. The guy had done that to himself, hadn’t he?

He was sick. Marcus could hear Kennedy scolding him even if she wasn’t there.

So he figured he owed it to Knox to offer him an olive branch. If nothing else, for saving Kennedy. “Well, we have a hell of a gym downstairs. You’re welcome to work out with me whenever.”

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