Chapter 29
Jacob
The hike back from the lake had been slow. Not because they were tired, but because neither wanted to let go of that rare moment that felt like it was theirs alone. Now, in the narrow hall of the lodge, the silence had shifted—no longer tender, but electric.
The hike had left Liam flushed, his shirt damp and clinging to his skin. Jacob tried not to linger on the way it outlined his body, but he caught himself staring anyway.
He stopped outside his door. “Shower with me?”
Liam’s eyes flickered—hesitation, temptation, the usual storm—but his feet still carried him inside.
Steam filled the small bathroom quickly, fogging the mirror.
Jacob stripped without hurry, aware of Liam behind him, the sound of clothes hitting tile one by one.
He stepped into the shower, the heat swallowing him as water pounded over his shoulders and sluiced down his back.
He tipped his head beneath it, letting the warmth loosen muscle and bone.
Then he glanced over. “You coming in?” he asked with a low smirk. “Or should I drag you?”
Liam paused only a moment, eyes flicking to Jacob before stepping inside. Steam drifted up around him, threading through his hair, as water ran down his chest in uneven trails. Jacob watched the droplets travel, each one an invitation he didn’t bother to resist.
Jacob reached for the soap and held it out. “Wash me.”
He turned his back toward Liam, one hand braced against the tile as the spray rolled over his shoulders.
Liam stepped in close without hesitation, slick hands gliding over hard muscle, spreading soap in deliberate strokes.
His touch carried weight—fingers pressing in like he was committing the shape of him to memory.
By the time his palm skimmed low across his back and ghosted his waist, Jacob was done standing still. He spun sharply, catching Liam’s wrists before he could retreat, pinning them high against the tile. His body pressed in close, heat sparking where skin met skin.
Liam’s shoulders hit the wall with a wet thud, chest heaving against Jacob’s.
He tugged once on instinct, but Jacob’s grip only tightened on his wrists.
Tension sang through him; muscles straining, fingers twitching against Jacob’s hold as if testing what he would allow.
A shiver ran through him, lips parting, eyes dark with something Jacob recognized.
“You like being held down,” he said, watching the way Liam’s breath hitched.
Fuck. Jacob loved that silent surrender. The dilation in Liam’s eyes, and the raw want rolling off him in waves, were addictive as hell.
“Apparently,” Liam murmured. “You keep unlocking new shit.”
Jacob’s mouth curved. “Good. Something to play with later.”
He dropped to his knees in one smooth motion, water splashing around him.
Liam’s startled breath was loud over the spray.
Jacob gripped his hips, thumbs digging in, and looked up at him through the steam.
“Keep your eyes on me.” Then he leaned in and took him into his mouth, the taste of him mixing with water on his tongue.
For a man who’d thought himself straight his whole life, this should have been a line he couldn’t cross. With Liam, the questions didn’t matter—only the reckless need did. Wanting drowned out hesitation, rewrote instinct, and made him greedy for more.
He licked a long line along the underside of his cock before sealing his lips around him and pulling back in a slow, deliberate drag. Liam’s head tipped back, a broken sound escaping his throat, making Jacob instantly hungry for more.
He took his time, every movement deliberate, working Liam over with purpose until he was trembling beneath his grip.
“Jacob—” Liam whimpered.
Jacob’s grip only tightened, holding him in place as he took him deep and swallowed around him.
Liam’s whole body jerked, a groan ripping out of him, as fingers locked in Jacob’s hair hard enough to sting.
He didn’t stop until Liam broke, spilling into his mouth with a helpless cry that Jacob claimed with dark satisfaction.
The taste was all Liam—sharp, hot, and addictive—and Jacob didn’t waste a drop, swallowing it all without breaking eye contact.
He rose slowly, water streaming down his face, watching the wrecked look in Liam’s eyes. He smirked as he brushed a thumb over Liam’s jaw. “Guess I’m a quick study.”
Liam’s incredulous laugh barely left his mouth before Jacob kissed him deep, sharing the taste still lingering on his tongue. He grabbed Liam’s hand and guided it down until it pressed exactly where he ached for him. His voice was a rasp against Liam’s mouth. “Your turn.”
Liam shuddered, his grip tightening at once. Jacob’s mouth curved into a wicked smile at the first stroke. This was going to be good.
* * *
The party was loud. Not wild or chaotic—just loud in that particular way people got when the work was over, the alcohol was free, and exhaustion turned into something bright and loose.
The studio had scattered lights through the trees, strung up like constellations.
Music drifted over the hum of voices, food was set out on white platters, and the faint scent of citronella fought with perfume.
Tonight, Jacob didn’t hate it, not with Liam here.
He looked handsome, hair damp from the shower, dressed in dark jeans and a loose white shirt. Jacob was fixated on the hollow of his neck where the fabric gaped open.
Liam had used Benji’s makeup kit, and it had done its job. The makeup had hidden the marks he’d left, covering the proof of what they’d done. He should’ve been relieved. Instead, all he could think about was how wrong Liam looked without them.
Jacob leaned against a porch column, watching him laugh at something a crew member said, that beautiful smile breaking over him like light.
For the first time in longer than he cared to admit, Jacob felt content—not the hollow comfort he’d forced on himself for years, or the grateful-to-be-safe kind, but something that sank deeper. Something rare and startlingly real.
It was fucked up. He wasn’t supposed to feel this good, not standing across a crowded party watching a man who wasn’t his.
Liam glanced over and found him instantly.
Their eyes locked and Jacob froze. For a heartbeat, neither moved—then Liam smiled, genuine and private, meant for him alone.
It landed with quiet force, stealing the breath from his chest. He tore his gaze away first, taking a long pull of his drink as if it could steady him.
This was a problem.
The sex? Fine. He could shove that into a box and call it chemistry, or stress relief, or even temporary insanity. But this—this lightness in his chest, that fucked-up little glow under his skin every time Liam looked at him? That was harder to explain away.
“You’re scowling,” Liam said, suddenly close enough that his voice brushed the space between them.
Jacob didn’t look over. “Am I?”
“Deeply.” Liam took a sip of his drink. “Tragic, really. It’s killing the vibe.”
Jacob’s mouth twitched, the sound that followed close to a laugh.
Liam bumped his shoulder. “I know you don’t like parties.”
“I like quiet.”
“We could find some.”
That made Jacob look at him. Liam’s gaze held steady, like he knew exactly what he was offering and exactly what it would cost. Jacob looked away first. “Not yet. You like this.”
Liam didn’t deny it. He stayed where he was, close enough that Jacob could feel his heat and smell the faint trace of soap still clinging to his skin.
“You’re in a weird mood tonight,” Liam said after a moment.
Jacob took another drink. “Yeah.”
“Are you okay?”
He considered lying, but that hadn’t been part of their deal. They could lie to their wives, to the press, to the world—but not to each other.
So instead he said quietly, like he wasn’t sure if it was safe to admit, “I think I’m happy.”
Liam turned toward him, his gaze searching. Jacob refused to look back, fixing his eyes on the dark line of trees beyond the lights. “That’s not something I usually am,” he continued. “Not like this.”
It should have scared him more than it did. Happiness meant softness, and softness got you hurt. For the first time in years though, he didn’t feel like he needed armor.
Jacob finally turned and met Liam’s eyes. What he found there was almost too much to take in—steady warmth, quiet kindness, and the kind of acceptance that asked for nothing in return. An openness Jacob wasn’t built for, yet couldn’t look away from—something that felt dangerously close to home.
It pressed against him from the inside out, a pleasure that hurt in the way only rare things could. And for the first time in what felt like a lifetime, Jacob let himself smile back freely.
* * *
The only light in the room was the low amber glow from the lamp on the nightstand. One of Liam’s socks dangled off the edge of the bed, his shirt lay on the floor, and the rest of their clothes were scattered like evidence; it looked like something had come undone too fast to care.
Which, to be fair, it had.
Jacob sat in the armchair by the window, one leg bent, a glass of scotch resting loosely in his hand.
The air was saturated with Liam, his scent clinging to Jacob’s skin and his taste lingering on his tongue.
He could still hear that raw, broken sound Liam had made when he shattered for him, not even ten minutes after they stumbled back into the room.
They hadn’t made it to the bed that first time, barely inside the room before Jacob had shoved him up against the door and kissed him like it was the only language he remembered.
Liam slept now—bare-chested, legs tangled in the sheets, breath steady and slow. Jacob’s gaze lingered on the slope of his shoulder, the smooth plane of his chest, and the shadowed curve of his hip. He told himself not to feel anything, to look without letting it matter.
He failed.
He took another slow sip of his scotch and let his gaze drift to the window. Outside, the trees stood dark against the night, shadows shifting in the faint wind. Even now, happiness clung to him, refusing to fade.
It scared him, because this wasn’t a life he could have.
It wasn’t something he was supposed to want.
He had a family, a home, a version of peace he’d built slowly and carefully over the years.
It wasn’t perfect, but it was safe. For someone who had learned early on that safety was never promised, safe meant everything.
So why the hell did this feel more like home than anything else ever had? The question bloomed like a bruise beneath his ribs, tender and dangerous to touch.
His phone buzzed softly beside him, the screen lighting his profile in a pale wash.
Caroline: Safe travels tomorrow. We miss you.
He stared for a long moment before turning the phone face-down. There was no pride in what he was doing; no justification he could live with in daylight. There was no true regret either, and that was somehow worse.
The rustle of sheets broke the stillness. “Come to bed,” Liam murmured, voice thick with sleep.
Jacob looked over. Liam’s eyes were still closed, his face softened in the dim light. One arm reached blindly for the space Jacob had left, as though his body recognized the absence before his mind could fully wake.
Jacob rose, set the glass aside, and slid beneath the covers. Heat found him immediately as Liam shifted closer, his palm landing low on Jacob’s stomach with the kind of certainty that made this feel inevitable.
Maybe it was.
He lay there, staring into the dark, Liam’s touch branding him in a way he couldn’t shake.
He wasn’t sure what scared him more. That this was temporary—or that it wasn’t.