“Last warning,” Alistair promised, his bright eyes sparkling wickedly.
Noah wanted to keep pushing him, but then his stomach grumbled. “Maybe after breakfast.”
“Ha! Hungry already?”
“Hey, late night snacks do not count as a proper meal.” Noah popped out of bed. “Come on, old man. I’m starving.”
He got a swift crack across his ass for his trouble.
After bathing and getting dressed for the day, Noah was struck by how weirdly domestic this was. It was easy to fall into a rhythm with Alistair—taking turns in the shower, letting Alistair pick out his clothes and help style his hair.
Slim fitting khakis and a printed floral shirt of muted palm trees Alistair swore came from Noah’s own closet even though Noah didn’t think he’d ever seen them before, brown sandals, and only minimal gel so his hair was still soft.
When Alistair offered Noah a silver chain necklace with a small green stone to complete his outfit, Noah was happy to accept it.
It was… nice.
Being taken care of, doted on, fawned over—it was a level of intimacy Noah had never experienced with a lover before. No one had ever stuck around long enough for anything like this. This, whatever it was, was already shaping up to be his longest relationship. The thought made him smile.
He could almost forget about the murder trouble and the whole being-imprisoned-in-his-own-house thing.
Almost.
Once they were both ready, Alistair led Noah downstairs and outside to the patio. There was no escort waiting for them, and Noah wasn’t sure what to think of that. Either Alistair didn’t think he was going to run or figured he was more than capable of catching Noah if he tried.
Both were probably true.
The inside of the house was clean and devoid of any party guests, and Noah assumed they were either sleeping in one of the guest rooms or had already left. Crybaby was waiting for them on the patio and so was another impressive breakfast spread. Unlike the house, everything out here was absolutely trashed. There were empty bottles and cups all over the patio, straws and cans strewn across the furniture, and a lonely pair of swimming trunks were floating in the pool.
Junior was overseeing some men who were taking down the electronic equipment from the show, and Mace was helping Frida tidy up around the bar.
When Noah saw Frida, he waved.
She made a face and turned away.
Fuck, he was never going to be able to talk to her.
Breakfast was set up on the same table Alistair and Noah had used before, but it at least had been cleaned up for them.
“Wow, what a freakin’ disaster,” Noah said as he sat down in the chair Alistair pulled out for him.
“It would seem everyone had a very good time.” Alistair sat across from him and poured himself a glass of orange juice.
“No coffee?” Noah beamed angelically.
Alistair gave him a warning look, but he smiled.
“Good morning,” Crybaby said, having waited until Alistair seemed settled to speak. “Our friends from Strassen Springs should be here later this afternoon. They’re running late.”
“With the way Mr. Tamerlane drives, I wouldn’t be surprised if they still show up for breakfast.” Alistair smirked. “Thank you. Any leftover guests?”
“Just three. Mace is gonna wake ’em up here in a bit and get ’em out.”
“No more unexpected unpleasantries, I hope?”
“No, sir.”
“Mmm. Good.” Alistair sipped his juice.
