“Hmm, maybe.” Noah shrugged. “Not sure.”
“Oh, that smells like a lie to me.” Mace sniffed loudly. “And sunscreen. And, hmm, orange juice and an apple scone.”
“That’s fuckin’ freaky.”
“It’s a talent. Don’t hate.”
As they headed downstairs, Noah saw a huge crowd of people filtering into the house through the open front doors. Some had electronic equipment, lawn furniture, and crates of food and beer. Most of them appeared to be would-be guests, clad in bathing suits and party gear, and all were cheering on their way to the pool.
Noah spotted Crybaby, Medina, and Alistair speaking with Frida and a delivery man by the door who had a handcart stacked with boxes of liquor. Erasmus was there too, standing by the far wall and watching the crowd with a deep frown.
Alistair was dressed in a red suit with a white shirt, the top few buttons left open. Noah’s eyes were immediately drawn to his exposed chest, and he wanted to drag his fingers through those curls of hair…
No.
No.
That bastard had left him high and dry at the damn pool, and Noah could still feel the lingering heat between his legs he’d been unable to handle.
“Thanks for the party, old guy!” a man shouted at Alistair as they sailed on by.
Alistair did not look amused.
“Not even his fuckin’ house,” Noah muttered as he tried to approach. “Assholes.”
Mace held up his giant arm to stop him, shaking his head. “Uh, hello? Rudeness.”
Alistair was still talking to the delivery man.
“For fuck’s sake,” Noah mumbled. He had to wait to speak to the man holding him hostage in his own home. This was ridiculous.
After a few moments, Alistair seemed to finally notice Noah and waved him over.
“Oh, goody. My turn now.” Noah roughly pushed by Mace and stood before Alistair, hip cocked and arms crossed. “What?”
“Is there anything you’d like to tell me?” Alistair asked politely.
“Red is not your color.”
“Anything else?”
“Nope.” Noah shrugged. “Can’t think of a thing.”
“Please remember that I’m smarter than you, I already know what’s going on, and I’m only asking you as a formality.” Alistair grabbed the edge of Noah’s sarong and pulled him closer.
Noah’s breath hitched, his heart pounding as Alistair slid a single finger down the front of his swimsuit to graze the base of his dick.
Alistair was really doing this.
In front of everyone.
Okay, maybe everybody breezing by couldn’t seeexactlywhat Alistair’s sneaky little finger was up to, but Noah was getting hard, and his face was on fire. In that moment, he knew he would do anything Alistair wanted. It wasn’t fair for one man to wield this much power in such a short amount of time, and Noah couldn’t explain how it had happened.
He wanted Alistair to touch him—fuck it, pull his dick out right here in the foyer. He didn’t care. He just wanted to come, and he’d do whatever it took.
Fuck!
No.
