His page opened and it was game over. Photos of him in uniform, jaw sharp, eyes focused. Candid shots of him laughing with teammates. A shirtless training pic with muscles hard from summer work, sweat beading down his chest.
My breath went shallow. My cock thickened against my zipper, already half-hard and demanding attention.
The warmth from earlier with Emily flared up again, but stronger this time. Hotter. More demanding. Like my body had been waiting all night for this, not that.
I glanced at the door. Still locked. Hopefully Noah doesn’t come back.
Fuck it.
I popped the button on my jeans, dragged the zipper down, and shoved them past my hips. My boxers followed. My cock sprang free, already hard, already aching. I wrapped my hand around myself and groaned at the contact.
This is insane.
I stared at Alex shirtless and stroked slowly, deliberately, letting the pleasure build. My whole body lit up. The wanting hit fast, almost violent. This wasn’t mild attraction or leftover adrenaline. This was a punch of desire straight to the gut.
With Emily, the heat had been warm, steady, comfortable.
With Alex... It felt like being yanked into a current I couldn’t fight.
I leaned back on the pillows, breathing uneven, hand moving faster now, pressure building low and urgent. I let my eyes fall shut, and that made it better because it wasn’t the photo anymore.
It was memory.
Alex stripping down to his underwear on the dock, muscles flexing. Then me grabbing his shirt and pulling his body close to mine as I shoved my tongue in his mouth. The feel of him surrendering against me. The taste of his mouth.
My stomach clenched. My hand moved faster, grip tight, strokes harder.
I couldn’t stop thinking about him—not then, not now, not even when I tried. And tonight, after being with Emily, the contrast hit hard and undeniable.
I imagined what it would feel like to have Alex’s hands on me instead of my own. To feel his mouth around my dick. To hear him say my name as he sucked me.
My breath came in sharp gasps. My hips jerked up into my fist. The tension coiled tighter, hotter, until I couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything but chase it.
“Alex—” His name tore out of me, half-whisper, half-moan.
The orgasm slammed through me. I came hard, spilling over my hand and stomach, pleasure ripping through my whole body. I lay there panting, with the thought of Alex on top of me naked, licking and kissing my body.
God, I wanted him so bad.
The air felt thick. My skin felt hot. My chest ached with a mix of relief and something like guilt. I wasn’t straight. But I wasn’t gay either. Emily turned me on—that was real. But Alex... Alex was a different kind of fire entirely.
I cleaned myself up with a t-shirt from the floor, pulled my boxers back on, and stared at the ceiling.
Whatever this was—this thing he did to me, this pull I couldn’t explain, this spark I couldn’t kill—it wasn’t going away.
Not tonight. Not tomorrow. Not ever, probably.
I turned off my phone, rolled onto my side, and let the exhaustion pull me under.
The last thought before sleep hit was simple: I wanted Alex Harrington. And no amount of pretending was going to change that.
Chapter 10: Alex
The Kingswell boathouse gym felt more like a cathedral than a training space. Glass walls, clean lines, and rows of ergs arranged in perfect symmetry like pews waiting for sinners. The lights hummed overhead, reflecting off the polished floor and giving the whole room an almost sterile kind of authority.
It was a place that demanded control.
Not ideal, considering I walked in feeling like my insides were still shaking.
