His breath brushes mine, warm, uneven, a quiet dare. “Don’t be afraid.”
My lips hover dangerously close to his—so near I can taste the faint sweetness of his strawberry gloss. It’s a temptation I shouldn’t give in to.
I slip a finger between us, brushing it across his pout. “Mmm…” I hum, rolling my finger and tasting him again, the gloss lingering on my own lips.
“Noah?”
“Yessss?” he answers on the same breath as mine.
“Don’t text me again.”
“I won’t,” he promises, and I drop my gaze to his lips, telling myself again to justleave. The flavor of forbidden fruit still sticks to my mouth.
“Alex…”
He reaches for me just as I’m about to turn away.
“I suspect he gave you permission,” he murmurs, voice low, steady—unexpectedly bold. “Elijah… he gave you permission to love me.” His shy eyes lift to mine, earnest and unflinching.
“I want that,” he whispers, his lips ghosting against mine as he speaks. “I want that… with you.”
I pause, digging deep for my voice.
“You’re wrong, Noah. Elijah gave me permission to fuck you, not to love you.”
“Then let me loveyou, Alex. Please.”
I reach up, fingertips grazing the curve of his temple, tucking a strand of sandy-blond hair behind his ear, lingering in the softness of the gesture.
“You can’t love me, Noah. You can’t… because I won’t let you.”
I press a gentle kiss to his forehead, closing my eyes in a silent farewell.
“But I already do,” he whispers, as I step away. “I’ve loved you forever…”
8
ELIJAH
“Alex?Would you mind taking over at the stove? I have to finish getting dressed before Gabriel and his boyfriend arrive.”
I push the sliced plantains off to the side and wipe my hands on my track pants. The rice is just about done, so I lower the heat too.
“On it.”
Alex breezes into the kitchen, tucking his shirt neatly into a pair of dark, slim-fit jeans. As usual, he looks effortlessly stunning; the pale-green fabric of his top sharpens the gold in his hazel eyes, making them pop. I love that shirt—the V-neck teasing a glimpse of the eagle-winged tattoo on his chest, mysterious and intimate. His dark hair is still damp, finger combed into an artful mess that somehow makes him look even hotter. As I pass him the spoon, I steal a quick kiss from his smiling lips. His mouth tastes faintly of mint toothpaste and something sweeter I can’t quite place.
He's sexy as hell.
“I’ll be quick,” I promise, winking before turning to grab the bottle of wine.
Now that Fashion Week has finally wrapped up, life is beginning to slide back into something resembling normal. We’ve both been craving quiet—an evening to unwind, to breathe, to let the chaos settle. Even if that means sharing it with my ex-husband.
To Gabriel’s credit, though, he’s been surprisingly considerate since coming back from Spain. He’s kept his distance, choosing to stay with his boyfriend instead of crashing here. That small gesture alone has done wonders for Alex’s peace of mind.
And honestly? It says a lot about where his heart is these days. He seems content… and, truthfully—I’m happy for him.
At the stove, Alex replaces the lid on the pot of rice, glancing over his shoulder. “I have to say, I’m actually excited to meet Gabriel’s boyfriend. Think he’ll be on his best behavior tonight?”
