I think back to our lunch, where a few times over the course of our meal we were interrupted by female fans who recognized Alex and wanted an autograph. It was so endearing to watch him interact with them. Not once was he bothered. He gave them a genuine smile and posed for selfies—one fan went as far as grabbing his ass, turning his smile into pure shock, but quickly recovering by smacking his lips charmingly onto her blushing cheek. I’m sure that will make for one hell of a photo.
But just shy of ordering coffee, things went south. The sparkle in Alex’s eyes dimmed, and the color drained from his cheeks. And as I stared at him from across the table, I couldn’t help but think…even in pain, he’s beautiful.
Obviously, that was not the appropriate time to admire his beauty, so I raised my hand for the waiter and signaled for ourcheck. I then slapped some cash down on the table for a tip while slipping the waiter my card. I took Alex in my arms, helping him to his feet. Absent-mindedly, he threaded his fingers through mine. I hesitated for a moment, knowing he’s not “out” yet about his sexuality, let alone our relationship. But, fuck it. With our hands linked together, I quickly led him through the small restaurant, retrieving my credit card from the passing waiter, and steering him toward my car.
As I shift my SUV into park, Alex eases his seat back into the upright position and steps out into the dimly lit garage. He doesn’t speak as he makes his way over to me, again taking my hand and leaning his body into mine.
“Let’s get you to bed, love.” I smooth his hair back from his face.
“Okay,” he softly replies.
ALEX
My head is pounding,eyes throbbing, and a light sheen of sweat breaks out across my forehead. It’s not often that I get migraines, but damn, when I do, they hit hard.
I follow in Elijah’s wake, his thumb gently tracing over my knuckles, back and forth, back and forth, drawing me into a trance as we wait for the elevator to arrive. When the doors slide open, I lift my head a fraction of an inch, allowing my eyes to slowly come into focus.
And when they do, I find myself staring at the most shredded, well-defined, muscular legs I have ever seen. Black, skin-tight yoga pants hug every ripple of sinewy muscle like second skin.
I step aside; my hand still woven securely with Elijah’s. When I glance up, my eyes settle on his pretty face.
He’s young, maybe in his twenties, light sandy-blond hair swept back in a messy man bun, the sides faded razor-tight. His face is smooth, fluffy lips and full cheeks that beg to be squeezed. Ballet slippers hang loosely around his neck.
He nods to Elijah as he exits the elevator, his clear blue eyes falling to where our hands are joined. He pauses a moment too long before discreetly sliding them back up to meet mine.
We lock eyes.
I’m mesmerized by his beauty, captured in those electric blue eyes. He’s the prettiest man I’ve ever seen.
The corners of his glossy lips curl into a shy smile—and then he’s gone, stepping away, just as Elijah pulls me into the deserted elevator and the doors close.
GABRIEL
Furious,I storm off the elevator and into the penthouse. Elijah and his damn boundaries. How ridiculous.
I breeze through the living room, heading straight for the kitchen, until something catches my eye off to the right.
Soft light spills out from behind the shades, and a faint glow reveals a solid form draped carelessly across the couch.
“Elijah?” I call out softly, my steps slowing as I move closer. A shirt is tossed to the side, an arm dangles over the cushion, fingers barely grazing the dark wooden floor.
Hmm.
I grab a blanket from the arm of the rocking chair as I pass by, trying my best to be quiet.
Alex.
He’s stretched out flat on his stomach, one arm draped over the side, a knee slightly bent, jeans hugging his hips. His handsome face is turned into the pillow, lips bunched and parted, slipping soft puffs of air—in and out, in and out.
My mouth goes dry. I drag my tongue over my chapped lips, licking the smile right off my face. I can’t believe it’s come to this.
I’m completely unprepared. I never expected to meet him face-to-face, let alone be standing here, staring at his half-naked form.
If he only knew the secret I’m keeping.
If he only knew that I know him—without him knowing me.
If he only knew I have something that belongs to him.
