“Ew, he wishes,” she says, with a wink that only Blake can see. “Not my type!” Blake just grins and pops open another bottle of bubbly. The girls squeal as the cork goes shooting off into the palm fronds waving in the breeze high above their heads, sticky alcohol spraying all over anyone within a five-foot radius of Blake. Out of the corner of his eye, Blake sees two ofthe cameramen close in tight on the scantily clad, wet women. Not even remotely surprising.
Before anyone can get too caught up, though, the sound of an air horn comes blaring from the direction of the ocean, drawing everyone’s attention. Hand still clutching his fresh bottle, Blake whips around to find the boat he and Ariana were scrutinizing earlier gliding smoothly into port at the dock. There are cameras down on the beach as well as framing their group on the patio now, and when the two figures on the bow come close enough to really see, Blake immediately understands why.
Perched on the catamaran’s right hull is the most unbelievably gorgeous man Blake has ever laid eyes on, hanging carelessly from the rigging. At first, the sun behind him washes out his features, leaving them in shade, though not even the brightness reflecting off of the water can hide the fact that this guy is stacked. When the boat floats gracefully to a stop, the angle changes and the light frames him from behind like something out a movie — or from Heaven.
The man is wearing linen pants that are slung low and cling to his thick thighs in a way that Blake thinks might actually be illegal in several countries. The obscene pants are paired with bare feet and an unbuttoned, collared shirt that showcases a set of abs and hipbones Blake would give his left fucking arm to have a chance to worship on his knees. And when the man looks up, it’s all Blake can do not to fall onto them right then and there.
Mystery dude has a face to match his body, and if he’s being honest, Blake can count on one hand how many timeshe’s run into a total package like this. If the guy can form one complete sentence and has two brain cells to rub together, he can count on zero. With his dark and wild bedhead, plump lips that curve up into a mischievous little smile, Blake knows he’s in big trouble, and they haven’t even officially met. Something about the crinkles around the man’s eyes says there’s depth to this new arrival that goes far beyond beauty, but that may just be wild hope on Blake’s part.
Gorgeous doesn’t do him justice. This guy is the kind of physical perfection the ancients wrote epic poems about, painted and carved statues to immortalize for all eternity, and Blake fucking gets it. If he could do any of that shit, he’d get started right now. As he stares, Blake could almost swear the man’s unearthly blue eyes glow as the sun halos his head, but it must be a trick of the light.
It’s only Ariana’s sharp intake of breath and half-drooled, “I shall make me a willow cabin at your gate and call upon my soul within the house—”
Blake snaps out of the trance the beautiful man has trapped him in to jerk his head in his new friend’s direction. “What?”
“Huh?” Ariana visibly shakes herself off, tears her gaze away from — oh. Right, there was another person on the boat. A chick, if Ariana’s reaction is anything to go by. Blake looks up, checks her out briefly, and returns to smirking at Ariana, who is in fact, close to drooling on herself. The target of her attention is a tall brunette, kind of plain-looking for Blake’s taste, but cute, her extra-long hair braided neatly in a plait over her shoulder.
“See something you like?” Blake teases, elbowing Ariana in the ribcage.
To her credit, Ariana snorts. “Like you have room to talk. You've got a little…” She mimes wiping drool off of her chin and Blake mimics the action reflexively. After all, he was definitely ogling. “Oh, god, oh god, they’re coming!”
Blake pulls his gaze from Ariana just in time to see the two new arrivals trudge the last few feet up the sand and onto the patio. As they approach, Blake notices the man is staring right at him, making a beeline for him, in fact. It’s probably because he’s the closest to the water; everyone besides Ariana is behind him. Even still, Blake’s stomach flips in his belly and his mouth goes bone dry.
Mr. Tall, Dark, and Sexy is way worse up close. He’s at ease in his tan skin, looking and moving like something plucked directly from Blake’s dirtiest fantasies and dropped onto the beach specifically to torture him. His undone shirt ripples in the light breeze and his defined pecs glisten underneath with either saltwater or sweat. A colorful rib tattoo peeks out from behind the shirt, but Blake can't quite see and doesn't want to stare. To make matters worse, Blake’s quickly realizing that the guy’s demeanor bears a striking resemblance to most of the tops in his favorite bookmarked m/m pornos. Confident, bold, unquestionably in control.
Thank fuck for loose board shorts, though Blake does what he hopes is a subtle adjustment to hide what’s inside of his all the same.
Before Blake can fully comprehend what’s happening, the man is in his space, standing way too close and searching Blake’s face like his life secrets might be written in small print between his freckles. He’s so intense about it, Blake actually wonders for a second if they might be. From only inches away, the man’s eyes are surreal; bluer than either the water or the sky behind him, and way higher on Blake’s list to drown in.
“Hello,” he says, and of-fucking-course, his voice is liquid sex, Blake might as well just turn around and grab his ankles now. He’s fairly certain his face isn’t fooling anyone at this point. “I’m Paxton,” the man adds, and even though there are scant few inches between them and their eyes are glued together, he somehow finds Blake’s hand and shakes it. “Pax, if you like.”
“Pax,” Blake croaks, sounding like some kind of broken parrot. Embarrassed, he clears his throat and scrambles for the wits he left scattered on the ground the moment this dude’s ship pulled into port. “Uh, personal space?”
A wide smile spreads across Pax’s handsome features, making him about ten times more attractive — Jesus, fuck — and yeah, definitely not fooling anyone. “My apologies,” Pax says, taking a large step back and then to the side, where he proceeds to engage in greeting the rest of the group. Like an idiot, Blake just gawks, at least until Ariana steps up to his side and pushes his chin up with two fingers so that his mouth closes.
“Drink your bubbly,” she mutters, watching her own new interest — Dani, from what Blake can hear — make the samerounds as Pax. “This is too good to be true, and I think we’re both going to want to be drunk for whatever’s coming next. Something tells me we’ve got a long road ahead.”
When he notices that Pax can’t stop looking over his shoulder and past the other cast members’ faces to stare back at him, Blake can’t help but agree. The champagne is weak, but Blake drinks like it’s last call. Not for the first time, he wonders what the hell he’s gotten himself into.
Chapter 2
To his dismay, Blake is kept from interacting much with Paxton over the next couple of hours, though the moments theydoshare together are no less charged than the first. After filming intros, the crew makes an attempt to fade into the background as the cast is set loose on the property and left to their own devices. The only instructions they’re given are to return to the beach area around eight, dressed for “a party.”
Blake’s suspicious.
Once freed from the producers’ clutches, everyone stands around a bit uncertainly, probably not wanting to be the first to cross any proverbial lines. Thankfully, Vincent steps up to the plate and gets things moving again — suggesting they all go and check out their sleeping accommodations.
Whatever Blake was expecting there, it isn’t anything remotely like what they find.
Despite the fact that everyone here has the potential to be attracted to anyone else, Blake still assumed they’d be separated when it came to actual bedrooms. Maybe they each wouldn’t be given theirownrooms, per se, but probably roommates, or at least girls in one room, boys in the other. Apparently, the show’s production team has forgone that idea completely, sticking themallin one big space, furnished with eight queen-sized beds. Four on the left and four on the right, all facing a middle walkway.
The beds themselves are nice, with cushy mattresses and lots of pillows, but Blake’s slightly confused. The premise of the show is one thing, and it’s pretty clear his cast-mates have very little reservation about hooking up on camera, but… they’re supposed to do it here?! There’s no privacy atall.Does the production team think they’re all totally cool with hooking up at the same time, in the same room? Or is it going to be up to them to develop some elaborate sock-doorknob system and time-share schedule?
At the very least, the bathroom is separate. With a close-able water closet for the toilet, a giant freestanding bathtub, a wide and deep granite sink, and a shower that looks like it could fit half of them inside it at one time, it’s not unimpressive.
It’s just alotof shared space.
“They really are hoping for orgies,” Blake muses out loud, letting his palm drift down the smooth, expensive marble that makes up the shower’s walls.
