Chapter 5
ALEX
“Aaaand… it’s a wrap.”
I exhale as the photographer steps aside and begins breaking down his equipment.
I’ve never been so happy in my life to finally be done with a photo shoot.
What was supposed to have been a fairly short day turned out to be the longest one ever.
The setup was entirely outside, and the weather was so out of character for the month of September, with record-breaking heat and high humidity.
So much for the refreshing fall-like weather that usually accompanies this season. Clearly, that was not the case today.
I unzip my gym bag, take out a towel, and wipe sweat from my face.
Even though fans were blowing in my direction the entire time I was on set, it hadn’t mattered; the overhead lighting was so strong—add in the damp, humid air, and it felt like I was baking in a tanning booth.
To make matters worse, I had to model the winter clothing collection for Marc Jacobs.
With thick layers and heavy snow gear, I’m surprised I didn’t pass out.
Steve, from Snap Photography, who’s usually a joy to work with and also happens to be one of my favorite photographers, was even in a foul mood.
He was making me work harder than usual in this sweltering heat, and it was really pissing me off.
It's sad because we usually work well together… but today, it just wasn’t happening.
He scowled at me the entire time, and I gave it right back.
I breathe a sigh of relief as I step off the elevator and into the penthouse, wasting no time yanking my T-shirt over my head and tossing a quick nod to Elijah as I pass by, who happens to be standing in the kitchen drinking a glass of wine with—
“Noah?”
I stop dead in my tracks.
There he is—my pretty dancer—sitting at the counter, dressed down in athletic gear, looking like a damn snack. Green designer joggers and a multicolored compression shirt complement his lean muscles. His hair’s pulled back in a messy bun. He looks hot as hell.
Actually, I think I just walked into hell.
Elijah glances at me, the faintest flicker of guilt crossing his face before he looks away.
“Hi,” Noah squeaks, avoiding my eyes. I’m so thrown off, I speak without thinking.
“Are you joining us for dinner?” The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them.
Elijah lights up like I handed him a winning lottery ticket. “What a fabulous idea!” he says, far too enthusiastically.
I mentally curse myself. Nice one, Alex. Why not light a match and throw it into gasoline?
Noah slips off his barstool, gently setting his wine glass down. “I’d love to, but I actually have plans tonight,” he says, chewing nervously on his bottom lip. “Thank you for the wine.”
“Of course, anytime,” Elijah replies, smooth as gin. Or bourbon. Or wine. Ugh… whatever.
He pats at his pockets, then glances up at me. “Alex, love, would you put Noah’s number in your phone? Seems you forgot last time. I must’ve left mine in the bedroom.”
My jaw tightens. So that’s how we’re going to play this.
“Sure,” I grumble, swiping at my phone screen a little too hard. Noah rattles off his number, and I punch it in without looking at him. When I’m done, I snort under my breath. “I’m going to take a shower.”
It’s rude. Dismissive. And I know I’m being an ass. Ask me if I care.
“Alex, wait—” Elijah calls after me, but I’m already halfway down the hall, determined to reach the bedroom before I completely lose my goddamn mind.
“What are you doing?” I step out of the shower and grab a towel just as Elijah slips into the bedroom and gently shuts the door behind him.
I have a love/hate relationship with this shower.
Hate, because it offers zero privacy. It curves along the length of the wall like a lazy river, lined entirely with floor-to-ceiling windows.
Sure, I can dial up the frost on the panes, so that’s not the issue.
The real problem? No doors. No curtain. Not even a half wall.
It’s just there, leaving one completely exposed.
Clearly intentional on the designer’s part.
And yet—damn it—I have to admit, it’s beautiful.
Stunning. Risqué in the most calculated way.
Exactly what Gabriel was going for when he designed it.
His ability to create rooms that feel like foreplay is what draws people to him.
Everything he designs is bold, unapologetic, and screaming for attention. I can appreciate its uniqueness.
The designer though? That’s another story.
With a smug grin, Elijah begins stripping out of his clothes, kicking his shoes off to the side.
Normally, his nakedness would arouse me, but that’s not the case tonight.
Not after the day I’ve just had. And definitely not after seeing Noah in the kitchen, sipping wine with him like they’re old friends.
He’s not Elijah’s type, so I’m not at all jealous; more irritated that Noah blatantly ignored the one thing I asked of him—don’t entertain Elijah’s offers again. And yet, there he was… glass in hand, smile on his face, like it was nothing.
“I came to talk to you, Alex,” he says, pulling me out of my head.
“You don’t need to remove your clothes to have a conversation,” I quip. “That’s such a Gabriel move.”
I’m seething, and he knows it. But instead of backing off, he walks straight to me and steals a kiss from my furious mouth.
“My intention was to join you in the shower,” he murmurs against my lips. “But it looks like I’ve missed my opportunity.”
“Looks that way. So, tell me… why was Noah here?” I pull away and head for the armoire.
Behind me, he reaches for the panel and shuts off the water, which I’d entirely forgotten to do.
“He was here because I asked him over.”
“He’s not our friend, Elijah.” I towel off my legs, tugging open a drawer and grabbing a pair of underwear.
“But he could be,” he says casually, sounding more like Gabriel than himself, which makes my blood start to simmer.
I throw my hands down by my side, breath pushing hard through my nose. “I don’t want him as a friend,” I snap. My chest tightens, heat rising fast.
Elijah crosses the room slowly, the tension between us thick enough to choke on. He leans his shoulder against the edge of the armoire, arms crossed over his bare chest, watching me with that maddening calm. “Would you like him as a lover?” he asks, voice low and measured.
“For fuck’s sake!” I bark. “Really, Elijah?” I let out a humorless laugh, yanking on a pair of boxers and stepping into some distressed jeans. I toss the towel into the wicker basket with more force than necessary.
“Really, Alex,” he replies, completely unfazed by my rotten mood.
I fling a T-shirt over my shoulder and stomp toward him, anger crawling up my neck.
“What is your obsession with Noah?” I demand. I should probably be asking myself the same damn thing, but that can wait. Right now, I’m more interested in figuring out what’s behind this new fancy of his.
He squares his shoulders and sighs. “I want you to fuck him.”
“You want me to what?”
If there was one answer I wasn’t expecting, it was that.
“You know what, Elijah? You’re really starting to piss me off. I’ve already had a shit day, and now I feel like I’m stuck in one of Gabriel’s overly stimulating mind games.” I yank the shirt over my head. “What’s next? Want me to fuck him too?”
“Absolutely not. Besides, he seems pretty smitten with his boyfriend.”
He reaches for my hands, and I let out an exasperated sigh. “And how would you know that?”
His fingers sweep gently over my knuckles. “Because he stopped by the bar earlier. Said he’s looking forward to having dinner with us.” He pauses, studying my face. “Which reminds me… what’s your schedule like? He asked if I could give him a date.”
“And Noah?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.
“What about Noah?”
“Is he invited too?”
Elijah smiles, a slow, teasing curl of his lips. “Mi amor—why would Noah be invited to dinner?”
“Gee, I don’t know—why the hell was he even here tonight?” I glance down and see his dick standing tall. Rage builds behind my ribs like pressure in a sealed jar. “Is that for Gabriel?” I hiss.
Elijah chuckles. “You’re being ridiculous. Gabriel doesn’t do that for me anymore.”
“And Noah?” I snicker. “Does he make you hard?”
I swear to God if he says yes, I’ll kill him right on the spot.
He cups my chin and drags his thumb across my twitching lips, lowering his voice, “You make me hard, baby.”
I slouch forward, drained and done. “Then why are we even talking about Noah?”
He tilts my chin up. “Because Noah makes you hard, mi amor.”
I drop my chin to my chest and squeeze my eyes, feeling a headache creep across my temples. “I don’t want to fuck him, Elijah. Got it? You are all I need. It’s you who makes me happy.”
I open my mouth and stretch my jaw wide, surprised I can even form words with how tight it feels.
“Baby, look at me,” he says softly. “I love you. You make me so goddamn happy. Honestly, you do. I never want to lose you. But I also want to make you happy.”
“I just said that you—”
“Shh. Let me finish,” Elijah cuts in, my lips quivering against the pads of his fingertips. I feel like crying, or screaming, or both.
“I’m not going to let you fuck me again,” he says evenly, voice soft but edged with steel. “But that doesn’t mean I want to deprive you of it. You enjoy it too much.”
My jaw locks, teeth grinding so hard I can feel it in my skull. “So, you’re giving me permission to fuck another man?” The words tear out of me in a gasp, hot and jagged, fury clawing its way up my chest. “Is that what I’m hearing?”
“No.” His gaze doesn’t flinch. “Not just any man.” A beat passes—long, infuriating. “Only Noah. And in my presence,” he adds, like the stipulation somehow makes it cleaner, as though saying it aloud will strip it of its filth.
“Does Noah know about this?”
“I’m sure he suspects. But I haven’t actually said anything yet.”
“Well, don’t.” My voice cuts sharply. “Because I’m not doing this. I’m not fucking Noah.”
I spin on my heel before he can answer, crouching to scoop Elijah’s clothes off the floor—shirt, belt, jeans—shoving them into his arms without meeting his eyes.
“Get dressed. I’m starving. And tell Gabriel the last weekend in September works.”
“Alex, baby, don’t be so—”
I step into him fast, cupping his scruffy cheeks with both hands, holding his face firmly between my palms until I know I have his full attention.
“I’m going to say this once, so listen very carefully.” I pause, locking my gaze to his. “I do not. Want. To fuck. Noah.”
He blinks, once, but stays silent.
“Do I think he’s pretty? Yep, sure do. He’s fucking breathtaking. Did my dick thicken while watching him dance around a goddamn pole? Yep, that happened too. I was undeniably aroused watching him move. He’s an incredible dancer.”
I slide my fingers around the back of his neck, drawing him closer, tilting his head so my lips are near his ear. “But did I come in my pants when he wrapped his legs around his partner and pushed his dick into his groin? No. No, I did not.”
I pause, letting the words settle before I add, low and certain. “You, Elijah, are the only person I will ever come for.”
Our equally strong wills clash in silence, each refusing to budge. He’s stubborn—I’ve always known that—but I also know the heart behind it. Beneath the steel spine, he’s soft in places that matter. He’s kind. And he loves me. And because of that, he’ll let this go.
“Okay,” he concedes, just as I knew he would, brushing those pillowy lips against mine.
“But if you change your mind—”
I catch his lower lip between my teeth, gently. “I won’t,” I whisper, sealing it with a kiss that says everything I need to.