I didn’t think it was possible, but Adam was about ten times more beautiful when I was drunk.

Or, really, I think he was just always that beautiful, but when I was drunk I let myself admit it, let my eyes linger on him and my mind run wild with how goddamn attracted to him I was.

“I don’t have any mixers or anything,” Adam said, appearing in the doorway. “You good with just the rum?”

I nodded. “Prefer it that way anyway,” I said, reaching out to grab one of the glasses from his hand. He sat on the bed right next to me—and I don’t know what I expected, because other than the bean bag chair there really was nowhere else to sit—but my heart rate picked up as soon as his body was next to mine.

“Cheers,” he said, and after clinking the glasses together I threw back a sip.

“Mm,” I said, “You like it?”

“I love it,” Adam said. “Thanks for bringing it. My clothes fit you okay?”

“They feel great,” I said, running my hand along the front of the shirt. “So warm. I guess I could have gone home and changed but… it’s a whole lot cooler to say I’ve worn something of Adam Fara’s, isn’t it?”

Oops. Already my filter was starting to slip. Or maybe it had already slipped, long ago, hence inviting myself over to Adam’s house—which I still could barely believe I did.

It had been such a long week, and I was practically delirious, underslept but restless. And I hadn’t even planned on drinking with Adam, but stepping into his warm house, having him drape me with a towel… I didn’t want to leave.

Adam had a sense of calm to him that I didn't even know was possible. I hadn't seen it on anyone else, and I didn't know if that meant I hadn't met enough people or if Adam really was unique. It wasn't a calculated calm, not put on to show a good face in public, but clearly a deep, genuine contentedness. Was that what years of fame and success afforded a person? Did nothing bother him? It was so different from the world I knew. At first his calm demeanor had rattled me—it had felt like an affront, a mockery, waving in my face everything I knew I could never be.

But now, here with Adam, I didn't feel out of place at all. I was slowly realizing that he didn't seem the type to judge anything, really, that I could have admitted the darkest things to him and he would still put an arm around me and tell me I was okay.

That was a little scary, but really it just made me feel comfortable. A feeling I couldn't usually access around most people.

And now I was in his clothes, on his bed, sharing a drink with him, and his body was so close to mine I could smell his clean, woodsy scent.

I realized I had to say something to him before I made a fool of myself, staring at him like a drooling dog.

“Had a customer at the shop today who said you guys cleaned a house for them a few days back,” I said. “John Bays?”

“Oh yeah?” Adam said. “I remember him. He hired us to clean his huge house before a party. I swear to God he must have been planning a sex party—there was a huge bucket of condoms stationed right by the door.”

“No way,” I said with a quick laugh. “He came in to buy a bunch of ice cream cakes, and he was talking about some handsome guy that was on his cleaning team. And I said, ‘Yeah that’s gotta be Adam—tall as hell, super nice, inordinately handsome?’”

Adam’s fake broke out into a slow smile, his big eyes meeting mine. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but… did you just call me handsome, Grey?”

I shrugged, realizing that if I was doing this, I was really going to go for it. “Yeah, you are. Not exactly a secret. Most of Fox Hollow isn’t made up of former music stars who are six foot four. You stand out.”

Adam snorted. “Are you drunk?” he asked with a crooked grin.

“No,” I said quickly. “Okay, maybe a little. Doesn’t change the fact that you’re hot.”

“Oh, come on. If you’re trying to say you couldn’t have anyone you wanted, you’re crazy.”

Now it was my turn to laugh. “Anyone I want? That is wrong on so many levels, you don’t even know…”

“You really could,” he said, hiking one leg up onto the bed and turning toward me.

I shook my head, then took another sip of rum. “Everybody here either already knows me or they’ve left town. Haven’t dated anyone since Tara left and even before her, everything was fucked up with Bryce. Anyway, I’m not here to talk about my shitty life.” I brought my hand up to my neck, rubbing against the muscle where it met my neck.

“Can I ask you a question, though?” Adam said.

I nodded.

“How come you’re still here if you hate it so much?”

I looked up at the ceiling, taking a deep breath in. I sipped at the rum, needing more liquor before diving into the many reasons I was still in Fox fucking Hollow. “Main reason is money. I can’t save up enough to move to Portland because all my money goes to bills and mom’s stuff every month. And she’s not exactly young, so if I did move, I’d have to find her a place there, which seems utterly impossible. So it’s like, I missed my chance to go for college, and now that ship has sailed, and I feel so fucking stuck here.”

I met his eyes again. “And I thought I wasn’t here to talk about my life. What about you? Why the hell would you come here when you could go anywhere? Don’t you have tons of money?”

He shook his head. “Not anymore. Spent it all traveling. And I came here specifically because it’s a small, quaint town. I’m tired of the other bullshit, Grey. I hate city life. I’ve never settled down anywhere, and I wanted to do it somewhere low-key.”

“Yeah, but like… isn’t your dad some sort of tycoon?”

Adam’s face tightened. “He was. He passed away some years ago.”

“Shit. I’m sorry,” I said.

“And to answer your question, I don’t touch my dad’s money.”

“Jesus,” I said softly. “It’s not like, dirty money, is it?”

He hitched up a shoulder. “Not in the traditional sense of the word. But I won’t accept it, because he couldn’t accept that I like men.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah.” Adam drew some more rum from his glass, for the first time not seeming as open and peaceful as he always was. I had no idea he’d had trouble with his parents—he’d always been so open and proud about his sexuality that I’d just assumed he’d lived a charmed life.

“Did you have to hide it from him, growing up?” I asked.

“I never even tried to. What’s the point? I was going to be my genuine self, whether he liked it or not. I’m not gonna pretend to have girlfriends if that isn’t who I am.”

“Wow,” I said, “That is… seriously admirable.”

He shrugged, tossing back the rest of his rum. “So yeah, that’s why I work at Mimi’s. Cleaning isn’t the most glamorous job but it pays the bills, and I feel comfortable with myself making money that way.”

I nodded slowly, my impression of Adam shifting immensely. I felt like everything I thought I knew about him was being rewritten.

“Can I ask you something else?” I ventured, knowing I was probably about to overstep my bounds, but the liquor was fueling me and I had to know more.

He met my eyes, smiling playfully at me. He laid a hand on my forearm, and I felt goosebumps rise on my skin as he touched me.

“Grey, you can literally ask me anything you want. I’m an open book.” His voice was always deep, but it seemed even deeper now, maybe from the liquor or maybe from the close contact.

“Good, because I’m probably about to go way too far,” I said.

“So ready for it.”

“Okay. So… you were in 5*Star. Traveled the world. You must have been able to sleep with anyone you wanted, right?”

He paused for a moment, one side of his mouth curving up in a small smile. “Not anyone, but yeah, I had fun.” He slid his hand off my arm and I missed the touch almost immediately.

“God,” I said, shaking my head slightly. “You must have been able to do some crazy shit.”

He hitched up a shoulder. “Maybe, yeah. But… it didn’t always have to be ‘crazy’ to be good.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean… when I’m with someone, I always want to make sure I give them exactly what they want. What they need. I’m not there for a conquest, or a number on my belt. What turns me on is being able to turn someone else on, whatever that means to them. For some people that involves intense, crazy stuff, and for others it might be just slow and sweet. It’s all equally good. It’s about the connection.”

I swallowed hard, nodding at him and gulping down the rest of my drink. Now I was one hundred percent sure that my cock was hard under my pants, just from hearing him speak about sex that way.

“I like giving people exactly what they need,” he continued, and my brain felt like it was overheating. I struggled to keep my breathing even.

“Jesus, you’re such a good person,” I said quietly, before I’d even really thought about what I was saying.

He chuckled at that. “I just like people.”

“So how come you never had a long-term boyfriend?” I asked quickly, feeling my cheeks get hot.

“Hm?” he said, caught off guard.

Shit.

“Well… I guess now is when I admit to you that back in the day, when I was a teenager, I sort of… followed the news about you. You were the first openly gay pop star I ever cared about. But even when other guys in the band had long-term girlfriends, you never had a boyfriend. Howcome?”

Adam got quiet for a moment—uncharacteristically—and I thought for a second I’d said the wrong thing.

“I don’t know why,” he said finally, eyes pointed down at the bed. “There were a few people I thought might be boyfriend material, but the short answer is I traveled too much. I know that’s the lame answer every pop star gives, but it’s true. Every time I was on the brink of falling in love, I was off to the next place.”

“That really sucks,” I said.

“It did kinda suck. And it’s part of the reason I’m trying to finally settle somewhere now. I don’t want my life to pass me by and find that I’ve never had a true home.”

“And you chose Fox Hollow. How fuckin’ weird,” I said, shaking my head.

He laughed. “Shut up. So far Fox Hollow seems great. And Jesus, I won the lottery having you as a next door neighbor.”

“Me?” I said, rolling my eyes. “So you always wanted a neighbor who burdens you with his dog and can’t even pay you back for it?”

“Literally everything you’ve given me has been incredible and far better than any cash would be,” Adam said, looking at me very seriously. “And it’s not about that, anyway. You’re charming as all hell.”

“What? Me?” My cheeks were rapidly becoming so hot there was no question they were visibly red.

“You.”

I shook my head a little. “I don’t even know why you’re saying that.”

“I’m saying it because I really like you.”

I pushed my eyes down toward the bed. Suddenly my skin felt tingly and I started to wonder if I was dreaming this all. “You shouldn’t like me. Nothing much to like,” I said.

My heart pounded in my chest.

“There’s a whole lot to like about you, Grey,” he said, low and soft as velvet.

I waved a hand in his direction to try and get him to stop, but he kept on talking.

“A sardonic, feisty kid who wears all black but secretly loves romantic books and movies, and brings me fucking flowers and liquor at night? Jesus, Grey, you’re a dream.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I said, burying my face in one hand. “I forgot you go in my house every day. Were you reading that book? God, that’s so embarrassing.”

I felt his hand on my wrist, pulling my arm down, taking my hand away from my face. He was right there, leaning on the bed next to me, looking into my eyes as I squinted at him. His eyes were deep and dark and unfair.

The moment hung in the air. He was so close I thought he was about to kiss me, and my brain went haywire with the thought, leaping in joy and terror at the same time.

But all he did was look at me, unrelenting, and say quietly, “You want another drink?”

I nodded, biting my bottom lip. He gently pushed up off the bed, taking my empty glass. I stood and followed him into the kitchen, watching him pour and again being dumbfounded by his stature, his bulk, his rugged beauty.

Jesus Christ it was too fucking much.

He turned back to me and handed me the glass, and already I started gulping down more of the liquor, feeling it warm me even more from the inside. I took a few steps over to the window, peering out, and realizing the rain had stopped.

“Need some fresh air,” I said, nodding toward the yard.

“Nonsmoking smoke break, I love it,” Adam said, crossing over to open up the back door.

We headed out, drinks in hand, into the slightly misty night, the cool scent of the water and greenery permeating the air. I took a deep breath, already feeling more centered, my cheeks no longer burning.

“So goddamn beautiful,” Adam said. He was looking all around at the trees and the mountains in the distance, barely visible in the fog.

“You really think so? All humid and foggy? It’s like this all the time.”

He nodded. “It’s incredible. I grew up in the desert. It was like the polar opposite of this. So dry you could see for miles. But a cool humidity makes me feel more alive. More one with the planet.”

“Just wait ‘til summer, it’ll be muggy as hell,” I said, reaching up again to massage the tender spot on my shoulder.

Adam took another sip of his drink, then set it down on a thick banister of the deck. “Do you have shoulder tension?” he asked. “Can’t help but notice you keep doing that,” he said, gesturing to me kneading at my shoulder.

“Yeah, it’s pretty bad.”

“Were you doing heavy lifting or something?”

I shook my head. “This is embarrassing, but it’s from scooping so much ice cream. I use my right arm all day, every day. Pretty lame way to get muscle pain, huh?”

“It’s not lame,” Adam said, crossing over to stand behind me. He rested a hand at my shoulder. “Do you mind?” he asked, his voice gentle.

“Of course not,” I said, slowly slipping my hand away.

He started to work his strong hand over the spot. “Oh God, that feels incredible,” I uttered, my eyelids floating shut. I still had my rum clutched in one hand, and I had to make sure I stayed aware of it and didn’t let it drop, because Adam was already making me relax like I hadn’t in days. Maybe weeks.

He continued in the same spot and started to work outward, kneading over my entire right shoulder with both hands, his strokes slow and methodical.

“Jesus, how are you so good at this?” I mumbled, like putty under his hands.

“I’ve had a lot of odd jobs over the past couple years,” he said, and I couldn’t get over the resonance of his deep voice right behind me. “One of them was working at the front desk of a massage clinic. I never actually got formal training, but my coworkers practiced on me sometimes, and I asked them to teach me anything they could.”

“Well they did a pretty fucking good job,” I said, leaning my neck backward as he touched me.

“You really do have a lot of tension here,” he said. “Full honesty, I offered to do this because I wanted to touch you, but this muscle is so knotted.”

“I know. I’m aware that I probably need weekly massages, but not exactly in my budget,” I said, my voice still coming out a little dreamy, half-buzzed from the alcohol and in bliss from the touch.

“Just come see me, then,” Adam said, moving his hands firmly across my upper back, roaming now across the expanse of my shoulders and flanking my spine.

I hummed a soft laugh. “The things you do for me, Adam, I can’t ask you to do this, too.”

“I would, though,” he said, his hands working slightly lower now, at my mid-back, thumbs pressing into places I didn’t even know I held tension but now felt it releasing under his hands. “You need it bad, Grey.”

I tried to laugh quietly again but instead the sound came out more like a moan or whimper. His hands felt so good it was unreal, and hearing him practically purr right behind me, telling me I need it bad?

I realized all at once that my cock was responding to this—responding quite obviously, pressing against the soft fabric of the sweatpants I was wearing. I thanked God that Adam was behind me, couldn’t see, wouldn’t know just what an effect he was having on me.

But as his hands worked lower on my back, down almost just above my hips, I think he probably could see what he was doing to me anyway. Because I involuntarily sank back against him, letting my neck fall back so that it rested in the crook of his shoulder, leaning on him for support.

“No one’s touched me like this in so long,” I said, barely able to make the words come out.

“That is a goddamn shame,” he said. I felt his breath on me, and he hummed softly right near my ear, breathing gently. I almost felt like I could float away or leave my body, the sheer physicality of what he was doing to me so perfect that I felt hypnotized.

His hands crept up underneath the bottom hem of my shirt, for the first time touching my bare skin at the small of my back. And completely involuntarily, I pressed back against him with my hips, essentially pushing my ass right against his groin.

I hitched back forward with a start, my eyes flying open, but didn’t turn around to see his reaction. Heat coursed through me as I realized that I undoubtedly had just gone too far, gotten too lost in sensation, forgotten that this was just meant to be a massage.

“I’m sorry,” I said, my voice coming out weaker than I even knew it could. His hands were still on my back, on my skin, hot and steady, but they had stilled after I’d jerked forward, like he didn’t know if he should continue.

“Grey,” he murmured behind me.

“Mm?” I managed to mumble back.

“I have to say something,” Adam said.

“Please do,” I uttered, still facing forward.

“I’m really afraid of making you uncomfortable,” he said.

“Well, you’ve pretty much been doing the opposite of making me uncomfortable, Adam.”

He let out a small groan. “I… want to give you more than this,” he said, voice low as ever as he leaned forward, closer to me, pressing his chest to my back. “I want to take you inside and make you feel good, and I want to use more than my hands.”

“Oh my God,” I uttered involuntarily, sinking the weight of my body back against his, pressing myself to him again. He was hard too—I could feel it now—pressed up against me, through layers of fabric.

He backed up ever so slightly, still touching me, but releasing some of the pressure, and I missed it immediately.

“But I really, really don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable. Because if you aren’t interested, if you’re not into this, all you have to do is tell me. Any time. I will stop if you say so.”

I swallowed hard, and finally summoned the courage to turn my neck backward, twisting my hips a little in his hands to face him. His gaze was steady, fixed on mine, but resolutely drawn in lust.

I looked him in the eye. “Of course I fucking want you, Adam.”

Apparently that was all the permission he needed. He let out one shuddering breath as his hands tightened around my hips.

He leaned down toward my face, hovering for a moment so close to me, looking in my eyes, breath mingling with mine. And then he gently pressed his lips against mine. I moaned in surprise at the contact, forgetting for a second how to even move, before opening to him, turning in his arms and wrapping my own around his shoulders.

I kissed him hard, the wet slick of his lips better than anything my imagination could conjure. I pressed the front of my body up against his, wanting every part of me to be wrapped up in him.

“Fuck, Grey,” he said as he pulled back slightly, bringing a hand up to run his fingers through my hair, giving it a gentle tug. “Come inside with me,” he said, and I nodded, following him back into the warm house. My entire body felt like it was vibrating, every sense on alert but also hazy at the edges, reeling from liquor and lust.

As soon as we were back inside by his bed, his hands were at my back again, roaming up under my shirt, warming me. He brought his lips to the side of my neck to suck a wet kiss against me.

“Mmmh, Grey,” he murmured against my neck, and even just hearing my name on his lips sent a thrill through me. His hands squeezed tight against my sides, then released, ghosting back down. He reached for the hem of the shirt and tugged it up over my head, stopping to rake his eyes over me after he tossed it aside.

Suddenly I felt a momentary bashfulness, a realization that there’s no way I could compare to the people he’d undoubtedly been with, models and musicians and people all around the globe.

“Fucking Christ you are beautiful,” he said, breaking my train of thought, and despite everything I felt myself blush for the thousandth time. “Can I take these off too?” he said, resting his hands at the waistband of my sweatpants.

“Please do,” I said, and then a moment later I was naked, pale and waiting, as Adam Fara looked me up and down. My cock was so hard it was dripping, hopefully finally showing Adam that there was no doubt exactly how much I was enjoying this.

It even went deeper than enjoying, I thought—I felt like I actually needed this.

“Will you lie on the bed for me, face down?” he said. I was more than happy to obey. I turned to the bed and eased onto it, the sheets so soft against my hands, softer than any I’d ever owned. I sank down and waited.

I felt the bed dip a little as his weight came down onto it, and then he was straddling me from behind, settling his ass down right onto mine, legs on either side of my hips.

“Mmm,” I murmured, my face pressed to the side on the bed, eyes still shut.

His hands met my shoulders again, easing the tension right back out of them, working and kneading slowly and methodically. I realized that Adam asking me to get naked wasn’t just an immediate call for sex—he really was still massaging me, taking his time with every inch of my upper back, just as carefully as he had on the back deck.

The only difference was that now I was naked, and he was on top of me, sinking his weight into me with more than just his fingertips.

He worked his way up my neck, then back down to my upper arms, literally lavishing attention to every sore and neglected muscle of my body, in a way I had never felt before in my life. I’d never had a massage other than quick ones here and there from ex-partners who hadn’t really known what they were doing.

This was something else entirely. Adam wasn’t a professional but he sure as hell could have fooled me, the way he somehow seemed to find every last place on my back I’d ever carried tension in, and systematically dismantled all of them. I was at once half-conscious and more fully aware than I’d ever felt, at one with physical sensation in a way I’d forgotten I could be.

My cock stayed hard, pressed up against the mattress, both from the sheer pleasure and the understanding that Adam was doing this to me, that he wanted this too. Despite the fact that he could fuck me at any second and I’d take it gladly, he chose to keep touching me like this.

He worked his hands across my body, moving after a while back to my hips, then my ass, and my thighs and calves. He missed nothing. He noticed when I’d tense up a little, some places on my thighs that were a little sharp with pain, and he’d be gentler there. But for the most part, the deep strokes he laid into my skin were perfect, each one making my body feel like it was melting further into the mattress.

“Doing okay?” he said as he worked his hands slowly back up to my ass, kneading me there.

I moaned, genuinely unsure if I was capable of speaking English anymore. But after a deep breath, I finally summoned it: “So good. So fucking good. No words.”

I heard him chuckle, warm and low, and I couldn’t believe he was actually enjoying this, just giving me pleasure and still taking none for himself. His weight shifted above me, and I thought maybe he was going to leave the bed.

And then I felt his tongue at the back of my neck.

“Oh,” I uttered, briefly coming up out of my haze of pleasure, shocked by the new sensation of wetness after having his hands for so long.

“Okay?” he asked, his voice now right next to my ear.

“Oh my God, yes,” I whispered, pushing out a breath of air.

His mouth was on me again, then, kissing and sucking against the back of my neck, gently nipping me a little. My cock had been hard the whole time but now it twitched between my body and the mattress, newly rising to attention at the wetness of his tongue.

I moaned into the bed, louder now, and it must have spurred him on because he laid a stripe with his tongue, down my spine, slowly going all the way down until he pressed a kiss into the small of my back. His hands gripped against my hips as he shifted downward, and then I felt him spreading me from behind.

All at once I felt a wet warmth across my hole, and it sent a throb through my cock so intense I could feel precum against my skin.

“Holy fuck,” I said, raising my head a little from the bed.

“What’s up, Grey?” he said, pressing a gentle kiss onto my ass cheek.

“I—it’s just—holy fuck, no one’s ever done that to me,” I admitted.

“You serious?” he asked.

“Uh, yeah,” I said, suddenly a little embarrassed.

“Well I really love it,” Adam said, and then his tongue was there again, teasing against me from behind, so fucking wet and warm and oh my God—

I realized I was letting out a moan without even knowing it, as Adam’s tongue moved from the base of my balls back up to my hole.

“You like it?” he asked.

“Jesus Christ,” I said, practically whimpering. “So much. Please, Adam,” I said, barely even knowing what was coming out of my mouth. I’d been so systematically relaxed—first with booze, then with Adam’s company, with his hands and now his mouth, and I couldn’t think about anything other than him, and how badly I needed him to keep going.

And he did. He hummed into the tender skin as he teased around me with his tongue, lapping against me in long, firm strokes as I essentially rutted against the mattress. It felt too fucking good. And when he slipped his tongue inside me, pressing in just a little past my hole, I actually yelped.

“Oh my God Adam holy fuck you’re going to make me come on your fucking sheets if you keep doing that—”

He pulled in a deep breath, tonguing into me one last time before moaning and pulling away.

I was so close. I thought for sure that two strokes to my cock and I’d be fucking done for, coming against the mattress and making a giant mess.

“Turn over for me,” Adam said, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of my neck. I was breathing deep and it took effort to even turn over, guided by his hands against my hips, so worked into a state of relaxation and arousal that the simple task took thought.

He was wearing only sweatpants, the hard, tanned planes of his body like a sculpture compared to mine. I felt like I should be worshipping him, not the other way around.

He was looking down at me.

“Can I make you come now, Grey?”