Chapter 2
ALEX
My leg bounces as we pull up to Elijah’s home, not surprisingly located on the Upper East Side of Manhattan.
This posh neighborhood oozes wealth, and I can’t help but marvel at my surroundings as his high-performance luxury SUV swiftly enters an underground garage and slips into a private, walled-off parking space.
Excitement cruises through my body as we step into the elevator and climb thirty-five floors, yep, straight to the penthouse. When the elevator doors open, we enter directly into his expansive entryway.
And I’m in awe.
Financially, I do really well for myself—very well, actually—but this? This is a whole other level of wealth.
Nerves flicker through my veins as Elijah takes my hand, guiding me across the open space toward a curved wall of windows that wraps around the entire floor.
It’s a beautiful night. A half-moon hangs off to one corner, and millions of stars stretch wide and endless, like the universe is showing off just for us.
Only one word comes to mind when I take it all in—romantic.
I’m so swept up in it that I flinch slightly when Elijah squeezes my hand, bringing me back to the present.
“Would you like something to drink?” he asks, his palm resting gently on my lower back.
The faint smell of coffee lingers in the air, and the aroma brings comfort to my frazzled nerves. “A coffee would be great,” I say, even though bourbon still hums at the edges of my brain like a bad idea in a good suit.
But no.
I need to keep my head clear.
His eyes hold mine for a beat longer than they should. Dark. Intent. Patient. Then he smiles—and something flutters violently in my chest.
Butterflies.
Real ones.
“Come with me,” he says.
I follow alongside him, his hand still resting on my back as he guides me toward the kitchen. It’s a small gesture, but the weight of it anchors me. Keeps me tethered—just enough to stop my thoughts from spiraling too far ahead.
While he turns his attention to an elaborate espresso machine, pressing buttons, grinding beans, working the thing like a pro, I lean against the center island and let out a shaky breath.
The smell of coffee starts to fill the air, rich and earthy. Comforting.
My gaze drifts around the room as I wait, taking in the sleek, modern design of his space. Shiny black cabinets. Stainless steel appliances. And a stunning wall of exposed red brick.
“Alex…”
God.
When has my name ever sounded so filthy?
“Let me give you a tour of my home while we wait for our coffees, sí?”
I nod, happily uncrossing my ankles and pushing away from the counter, asking myself, not for the first time, why his whole damn vocabulary has to be so goddamn sexy?
He heads back through the enormous family room and jets off to the right, where a discreet hallway wraps around a spectacular see-through fireplace encased in earthy bluestone. My sweaty palms run rampant over my thighs.
Nervous habit.
I shove them into my pockets as he taps lightly on each door. “Bedroom, bedroom, bedroom, office, gym, pool, aaaand…”
We reach the end of the sweeping hallway. I pull my hands free and slap them back against my thighs, just as he turns to face me.
“My bedroom,” he softly speaks, voice dropping a whole octave.
And as if that wasn’t enough of a turn-on, he rolls the r, letting it vibrate on his tongue—bedrrroom.
I feel the vibration all the way to my groin.
The word has never sounded so sensual.
I look up at the wooden double doors. A flicker of hesitation apparent in his otherwise fluid movements.
Jet-black eyes land on mine, and I focus on breathing. Slow. Steady. Controlled.
But there’s nothing controlled about what’s happening between us.
His gaze lingers, searching, almost like he’s giving me one last chance to back out.
I don’t.
I meet his eyes—soulful, dark, sexy—and find my voice.
“Show me your bedroom, Elijah.”
ELIJAH
I practically stumble through the doors as those words leave his lips.
I’m not sure what I expected him to say, but I can promise you—it wasn’t that.
Moonlight spills across the hardwood floors, casting a soft glow over everything as we step into my space. I watch him closely, curious to see how he takes it all in.
The room, like me, is stripped of unnecessary details—minimalist, clean, intentional. There are only two real focal points: the California King bed… and the shower.
It’s not hidden. In fact, it’s the opposite—set against a wall of floor-to-ceiling windows, with multiple rain shower heads descending from the high ceiling like chrome raindrops.
Unconventional? Absolutely.
But also, unapologetically one of a kind.
As I expected, Alex’s eyes are locked onto the shower—no doubt noticing its complete lack of privacy. It stretches the full length of the far wall, giving off the illusion of a lazy river pulled straight from a luxury spa.
His gaze drops to the floor, where smooth stone pebbles pave the entire base. Scattered throughout are bits of green sea-glass, glinting like jewels across the natural-toned surface—artfully arranged.
Finally, Alex clears his throat and pins me with those dazzling hazel eyes.
“So, um… based on the complete lack of privacy in this room—I can only conclude—you must like to watch?”
Yeah. Saw that coming.
I pinch the bridge of my nose, debating whether now’s the time to explain the vision behind my husband’s bold design. Not exactly a topic I’m ready to unpack right now.
So instead, I say nothing.
I step forward, closing the distance between us until my shadow swallows his. His back meets the closed doors, a quiet thud sounding between us. With hooded eyes, I lock onto his, letting the silence speak.
A soft hum escapes his lips as he raises a hesitant hand to my face, brushing his fingertips gently across the rough edge of my jaw—testing his confidence.
I meet him there, slowly reaching up to take hold of his wrist, guiding his shy touch to my parted lips.
I press soft kisses to his palm, breathing in the sounds he makes as I trail my lips along his wrist.
His eyes stay locked on mine. So I go further.
I drag my tongue across the edge of the tattoo peeking out from beneath his sleeve.
He gasps. Shivers.
A low rumble builds in his chest, vibrating through his whole body.
I groan near his mouth, my lips so close I can taste his breath.
And then finally—finally—I brush my lips across his quivering ones.
ALEX
Holy fuck!
I pull Elijah’s blazing mouth tightly against mine, deepening our kiss. His tongue invades my parted lips and tangles fiercely with mine. His lips are like pillows, and I can’t resist the urge to gently bite down on his lower one and suck it back into my own craving mouth.
His erection pulsing unmercifully against my groin.
“Take off your clothes,” he says—low, commanding, that sexy accent turning the words into something far more dangerous.
The urge to yes, sir, slips onto my tongue, but I bite it back, refusing to hand over the last shred of control… not yet.
But his confident hands move to my chest and take control anyway… rapidly unbuttoning my shirt, sliding it down my arms, and letting it fall to the floor without ceremony.
He draws in a breath the moment his eyes land on the tattoo stretched across my chest—eagle wings spread wide in flight.
Another deep groan rumbles from his throat, and I swear to God, I’m fucking melting at his feet.
I wrap my arms around Elijah’s waist and bring his straining erection to mine. He grinds himself against me, hard, making sure I know exactly what he has waiting for me inside his pants.
And how could I not?
But before I can even make a move, he brings his hand between us, flicking the button open on my pants.
Hungry lips are back on my mouth, and his other hand begins unzipping.
My dick springs free from its tight constraints.
Pants and boxers slide down to my knees.
Cool air hits my dick for all of a second before it’s sheathed in the warmth of his hand.
It happens so fast; I don’t even have time to think.
Wanting to watch his skilled hands work me, I gaze down and see my dick jerk in his palm as I fuck into his fist. Plush lips trail down my neck, sucking tender bruises into my skin.
The heat of his breath lingers in the wake of his tongue as it glides across my throat, and I toss my head back against the door, giving him full access.
A groan rips out of me—louder than I intended—and for a split second, embarrassment burns through me. But then his lips press harder, deeper, and I forget why I even cared.
My heart pounds against my ribs, threatening to break free as his fist glides smoothly up and down my shaft—matching the rhythm of my ragged breaths.
Having now lost all control, and not giving a flying fuck about anything, I close my eyes and exhale hoarsely as Elijah’s thumb swipes across my slit, gathering a good amount of precum and swirling it around the sensitive tip of my cock.
I shudder and moan.
My lips twitch against his as I try to form words, but I’m only capable of more moaning.
I pant and puff.
Give him more cum to play with as my dick drips like a goddamn faucet.
Elijah mumbles something against my mouth, but I don’t catch a single word of it.
I’m too wrapped up in the feeling of his tongue moving against mine, his sticky fingers running cum across my head, and the silky slide of his cock moving in right alongside mine. And I fucking lose my ever-loving mind.
I rock into him, jittery as fuck. His hand encircles both of our cocks. My arms flail like a man on fire, searching blindly for something to ground me in the heat of him. I claw at his shirt, his hair, his skin, before finally throwing my arms down to my sides and pushing my palms into the door.
Fuuuck… this is all too much.
“Elijah,” I warn, as my release is very near, and I can’t seem to rein myself back in.
“Alex.” He gasps, voice low and raw, hot against my ear. “Come for me.”
Jesus, how can I not? His Spanish tongue drags out my name like a smoky haze—and I’m completely lost in it, pumping his fist with my bare cock. Every single vein in my dick bulges, pulsing wildly in his palm.
“Fuuuck, Elijah,” I yell, as my orgasm jets through me and a copious amount of cum spurts from my dick and onto Elijah’s expert hand. He follows right behind, moaning into my mouth, covering us in more cum. It splashes against my stomach and dribbles down between his fingers and back onto my dick.
Breathless, I clutch at the air, feeling like I’ve just run for miles without pause.
He releases our cocks and brings his cum-covered fingers up to my mouth, where he gently parts my trembling lips.
“Taste us,” he rasps, voice all rough and rugged.
I don’t even hesitate. I suck his fingers into my mouth, curling my tongue around his digits, tasting our cum.
“Mmm,” I hum, enjoying the flavor of his decadent skin.
He sucks on my earlobe. “Would you say that was a memorable first?”
Pretty damn sure I covered more than a couple of firsts there.
I let out a breathless snort instead of answering, still trying to wrangle my heartbeat back under control. Finding my voice? That’s a whole different challenge.
Slowly, he drags his fingers back out through my puckered lips and smirks. “I’ll take that as a yes.” He chuckles, bringing his slippery fingers to my chest and drawing lines against my tattoo.
I’m in ecstasy overload, but somehow, I manage to open my eyes and look at him.
He’s perfect. Not in a glossy, magazine-cover kind of way—but in the way his eyes hold no judgment, only warmth.
He has happy eyes. The kind that make you feel seen… and safe.
His fingers keep gliding gently across the ink on my chest, tracing lines through sweat and cum like he’s painting me into calm. It feels… nice. Comforting, even.
Until… the inevitable happens.
A tidal wave of emotions crashes over me, sudden and suffocating. The reality of what just happened slams into me like a brick.
I just had my first experience with a man.
And I didn’t just like it.
I loved it.
One hundred percent unapologetically loved it.
So now what?
Does this mean I’m not straight anymore?
Am I officially gay?
God—am I a gay man now?
My thoughts spiral.
How do I even begin to explain this… to anyone?
To Emilee?
Will she understand? Hell, do I?
Do I look gay now?
Is that a thing?
If I looked in a mirror, would the truth be written all over my face?
Maybe—
“You’re so beautiful, Alex.”
Elijah’s deep Latin voice cuts into my moment of hysteria. It’s like he was watching my mind play ping-pong. Knowing I was well on my way to succumbing to my mental anguish.
But then his words hit.
Warm, sincere, and steady, they seep through my skin, pulling me back from the edge. A small smile finds its way to my face, unbidden but welcome. I lean in, letting him take the weight of me, and he wraps an arm around my back, solid and sure.
Then he kisses my dimple.
Christ. His lips are so full, they practically bounce off my cheek.
That simple kiss does wonders. It calms me. Takes me out of my head and brings me right back to this glorious moment. It brings me back to us… just us.
My daughter doesn’t need to know. Nobody does. Not yet… maybe not ever.
With my heart rate finally settling down and breathing under better control, I exhale all of my worries and brush my lips softly across his.
“Shower?” I brazenly suggest, deciding to live in the moment.
“Mmm,” he hums against my mouth. “Want to join me? Or watch me?”
He swipes his tongue across my lips.
Oh yeah, I’m definitely joining him.