Jesus.
They look soft.Ridiculouslysoft.
So soft, you can’t help but wonder how they’d feel like trailing down?—
Nope.
Abort. Abort that entire thought.
I shift in my seat again, reach for my drink with a hand that’s trying to look too casual. The glass is half empty now, and I have no idea when that happened.
Probably somewhere betweenI’m not gayandI wonder what his lips feel like.
I’ve never had a lip fetish before, but I certainly?—
“Alex? Are you still there?”
For fuck’s sake.
Teya’s voice slices clean through my salacious train of thought, and I jolt like I’ve been caught red-handed. I swivel my barstool away from temptation and clear my throat.
“Teya! Yes, yes. I’m here. I, um…”
I squeeze the back of my neck, flinching when my grip bites a little too hard.
“Just distracted,” I mumble, leaving it at that—because, seriously, how the hell do I even begin to explain this puzzling distraction?
There’s just way too much to unpack here.
I can’t even untangle it in my own head.
“Alex, honey, I have to go. The salesman’s on his way back.”
There’s a loud clatter—her phone hitting the floor, I assume—then she’s back.
“Shit! Cracked my screen.”
Of course.
“Anyway, Emilee’s with me. She’s staying for the weekend, if that’s alright. I’ll bring your daughter home on Sunday.”
A pause. Then?—
“She wants to know if she can hang out with Ana when she’s back?”
“It’s fine,” I mutter, already half checked out.
I end the call, shove the phone into my pocket, and let out a slow breath—eager to return to my gay fantasy.
ELIJAH
Gabriel would be star-struck.
My husband has had a crush on this guy for years—Alexander something-or-other. The one with all those puzzle pieces tattooed across his body. And I’mprettydamn sure that’s him, sitting five stools down, looking every inch the top fashion model he is.
For once… I’d have to agree. He’s quite possibly the most drop-dead gorgeous man I’ve ever laid my eyes on.
Period.
