“I like quiet.”
“We could find some.”
That made Jacob look at him. Liam’s gaze held steady, like he knew exactly what he was offering and exactly what it would cost. Jacob looked away first. “Not yet. You like this.”
Liam didn’t deny it. He stayed where he was, close enough that Jacob could feel his heat and smell the faint trace of soap still clinging to his skin.
“You’re in a weird mood tonight,” Liam said after a moment.
Jacob took another drink. “Yeah.”
“Are you okay?”
He considered lying, but that hadn’t been part of their deal. They could lie to their wives, to the press, to the world—but not to each other.
So instead he said quietly, like he wasn’t sure if it was safe to admit, “I think I’m happy.”
Liam turned toward him, his gaze searching. Jacob refused to look back, fixing his eyes on the dark line of trees beyond the lights. “That’s not something I usually am,” he continued. “Not like this.”
It should have scared him more than it did. Happiness meant softness, and softness got you hurt. For the first time in years though, he didn’t feel like he needed armor.
Jacob finally turned and met Liam’s eyes. What he found there was almost too much to take in—steady warmth, quiet kindness, and the kind of acceptance that asked for nothing in return. An openness Jacob wasn’t built for, yet couldn’t look away from—something that felt dangerously close to home.
It pressed against him from the inside out, a pleasure that hurt in the way only rare things could. And for the first time in what felt like a lifetime, Jacob let himself smile back freely.
***
The only light in the room was the low amber glow from the lamp on the nightstand. One of Liam’s socks dangled off the edge of the bed, his shirt lay on the floor, and the rest of their clothes were scattered like evidence; it looked like something had come undone too fast to care.
Which, to be fair, it had.
Jacob sat in the armchair by the window, one leg bent, a glass of scotch resting loosely in his hand. The air was saturated with Liam, his scent clinging to Jacob’s skin and his taste lingering on his tongue. He could still hear that raw, broken sound Liam had made when he shattered for him, not even ten minutes after they stumbled back into the room.
They hadn’t made it to the bed that first time, barely inside the room before Jacob had shoved him up against the door and kissed him like it was the only language he remembered.
Liam slept now—bare-chested, legs tangled in the sheets, breath steady and slow. Jacob’s gaze lingered on the slope of his shoulder, the smooth plane of his chest, and the shadowed curve of his hip. He told himself not to feel anything, to look without letting it matter.
He failed.
He took another slow sip of his scotch and let his gaze drift to the window. Outside, the trees stood dark against the night, shadows shifting in the faint wind. Even now, happiness clung to him, refusing to fade.
It scared him, because this wasn’t a life he could have. It wasn’t something he was supposed to want. He had a family, a home, a version of peace he’d built slowly and carefully over the years. It wasn’t perfect, but it was safe. For someone who had learned early on that safety was never promised, safe meant everything.
So why the hell didthisfeel more like home than anything else ever had? The question bloomed like a bruise beneath his ribs, tender and dangerous to touch.
His phone buzzed softly beside him, the screen lighting his profile in a pale wash.
Caroline:Safe travels tomorrow. We miss you.
He stared for a long moment before turning the phone face-down. There was no pride in what he was doing; no justification he could live with in daylight. There was no true regret either, and that was somehow worse.
The rustle of sheets broke the stillness. “Come to bed,” Liam murmured, voice thick with sleep.
Jacob looked over. Liam’s eyes were still closed, his face softened in the dim light. One arm reached blindly for the space Jacob had left, as though his body recognized the absence before his mind could fully wake.
Jacob rose, set the glass aside, and slid beneath the covers. Heat found him immediately as Liam shifted closer, his palm landing low on Jacob’s stomach with the kind of certainty that made this feel inevitable.
Maybe it was.
