9JackedThe sight that greeted Billy at the front door of his penthouse briefly put a little patter in his angel heart: Soren Huxford. He sat splayed on the hallway floor, blond hair flopped over closed eyes, one long leg wedged against the bottom of the door frame, and the other knee bent, resting on the floor. His denim shirt had fallen open, revealing a well-muscled and lightly tanned chest. It was like looking at a cross between a denim-clad cowboy and a tall Viking warrior.
Sitting at a ninety-degree angle from him, leaning against the wall, was an equally sensational-looking man. Billy guessed he was around the same height, six two or three, but in contrast to Soren’s Nordic features, this guy was an African god. Close-shaved head, darkest of dark skin gently catching the moonlight c
