Jacy Carmine had to have everything a certain way. He had to have routines, schedules and order. It was the only way to keep from having meltdowns. That he was lonely wasn’t something he could fix, since he couldn’t tolerate the touch of another.
He’d been thankful and grateful for his mother’s compassion, if not her understanding. No one could understand what Jacy went through every day just to get up each morning and face another eight to twelve hours that might end up with him curled into a ball, screaming and sobbing.
His mother had a vague sense of what had happened to him, but the authorities had been tight-lipped and the media could only speculate. His doctors had been tied behind HEPA laws, and as Jacy was an adult, there was no telling anyone what he’d gone through. That was just fine with him, since he relived it every night when he closed his eyes.
What he hadn’t expected was for a young, vibrant man to upset his rigid days with his exuberance, vitality—and attraction. Lonely he might be, but Jacy was in no condition to accept affection, or—God—sexual advances. But he couldn’t get away from Michael VanDelling since his mother had hired him to assist Jacy with his clothing line. Jacy needed the help, but how was he supposed to accept it, not to mention deal with Michael’s interest in him? Could he even do it?
And then there was the low burning in his belly whenever Michael was around. Feelings Jacy thought had been traumatized out of him forever kept trying to overwhelm him. He was broken, damaged beyond repair, so why would someone as alive as Michael be interested anyway? Jacy didn’t know and wasn’t sure he wanted to find out.