STORY EXCERPT

Sasha sucked in a breath and let it out slowly. He knew he shouldn’t have let Marcus move in, but nobody else in the family would touch this train wreck. Now he saw why. Sasha’s mom and dad had tried to tell him, but he’d gone all soft. Biggest mistake of his life.

Lesson freaking learned. No more roommates. Ever. Period. End of story.

He needed to chill before he said something he’d regret. Getting all worked up wasn’t gonna magically make Marcus land a job or pay him back anyway.

Sasha crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. No way he was backing down this time.

Before Sasha could process what was happening, Marcus shoved a hand into his jacket pocket and yanked out a roll of bills thick enough to choke on. He slapped the wad into Sasha’s palm hard enough to sting.

The front door slammed so hard the windows rattled. Through the living room blinds, Sasha watched his cousin stomp down the driveway, shoulders hunched like he was walking through a storm.

The cash felt wrong in his hand. Sasha peeled through the bills, counting under his breath. Twenties mostly, a few fifties mixed in. His throat went dry when he hit a thousand even.

Where the hell had Marcus gotten a grand? Last week the guy couldn’t scrape together forty bucks for groceries. Now he was walking around with a roll that could pay a month’s rent?

Sasha stuffed the money into his front pocket, the bills making an uncomfortable bulge against his hip. Whatever Marcus had gotten himself into, Sasha wanted no part of it. He grabbed his keys and headed out, already running late for his shift at Cyril’s.

The morning rush hit like a caffeine-starved tsunami. Steam hissed from the espresso machine while the grinder screamed through another pound of beans. Orders stacked up faster than Sasha could pump them out, triple shot this, oat milk that, extra foam hold the dignity.

“Two lattes, one cappuccino, and whatever the hell a ‘dirty chai’ is supposed to be,” Sasha called out, sliding cups across the counter. His boss moved with the practiced efficiency of someone who’d been slinging coffee since birth.

The milk frother squealed as Sasha worked it, sweet steam curling up to fog his glasses. He wiped them on his apron, leaving a streak of foam across one lens. Perfect. Nothing said professional barista like looking half-blind.

“Dirty chai’s just chai with espresso,” Cyril told him, pulling shots like he was born with portafilters for hands. “Because apparently regular caffeine isn’t enough anymore.”

“Back in my day, coffee was coffee.” Sasha rang up another customer “Now it’s got more options than a luxury car.”

Cyril chuckled. “Stop sounding like you’re old. Only I have that privilege.”

The familiar rhythm of work helped push thoughts of Marcus and his mysterious money to the back of Sasha’s mind. Pull, steam, pour, repeat. The café smelled like roasted heaven mixed with vanilla syrup and that weird burnt-sugar scent that never quite left his clothes.

He’d grabbed a damp rag to wipe down the frother when movement by the door caught his eye. The guy walking in made Sasha’s hand freeze mid-wipe.

Tall didn’t cover it. The man had to duck slightly to clear the doorframe. Dark hair fell across his forehead in that perfectly messy way that probably took twenty minutes to achieve. Broad shoulders filled out a shirt that looked soft enough to sleep on. When he lifted his head and scanned the café, Sasha caught a glimpse of gray eyes so deep they looked forged from iron

The stranger paused just inside the entrance, chest expanding as he drew in a deep breath through his nose. His whole body seemed to relax, shoulders dropping as a small smile played at the corner of his mouth. Guy must really love the smell of coffee. Sasha could relate.

Those dark gray eyes swept the room before landing on the counter. On Sasha. The smile widened, showing a hint of white teeth, and suddenly the café felt about ten degrees warmer.

The man approached with long, easy strides, weaving between tables like he owned the place. Up close, he was even more devastating. Stubble shadowed a jaw that could cut glass, and was that... yeah, definitely cologne. Something woodsy and expensive that made Sasha want to lean across the counter and get a better whiff.

“Morning.” The stranger’s voice rumbled low and warm, like good whiskey. “Smells incredible in here.”

“That’s the Colombian dark roast.” Sasha set down the rag, hoping his voice came out steadier than his pulse. “Cyril roasts it fresh every morning.”

“Lucky me then.” Those dark gray eyes held Sasha’s, and there was something in the look that made his stomach do a weird little flip. “I’m Quinn.”

Quinn. Of course his name would be Quinn. Probably drove a motorcycle and rescued puppies in his spare time.

“Sasha.” He wiped his hand on his apron before offering it. Quinn’s grip was firm, his palm warm and slightly rough. The handshake lasted maybe a beat longer than necessary.

“So, Sasha…” Quinn leaned against the counter, bringing him closer. Close enough that Sasha could see the flecks of gold in those dark eyes. “What would you recommend for someone who’s had a very long night?”

Was that...was he flirting? The slight tilt of Quinn’s head, the way his voice dipped on “very long night” felt loaded. But maybe the guy just really needed caffeine. Sasha had the social awareness of a brick sometimes.

“Depends.” Sasha grabbed a cup, needing something to do with his hands. “How much of a kick are you looking for?”

“Oh, I can handle a pretty strong kick.” Quinn’s mouth quirked up at one corner.

Okay, that had to be flirting. Right? Or maybe Quinn talked to everyone like they were the most interesting person in the room. Some people were just like that, naturally charming, making everyone feel special.

“Our house blend’s got enough caffeine to raise the dead.” Sasha turned to the espresso machine, grateful for the excuse to break eye contact before his face did something embarrassing. Like drool. “Or there’s the red eye if you really want to see through time.”

Quinn’s laugh was rich and genuine. “Red eye it is. I like a little danger with my breakfast.”

Definitely flirting. Had to be. Nobody said things like that about coffee without some kind of subtext.

ADULT EXCERPT

“Easy,” Quinn murmured against his lips. “Don’t want you hurting those ribs.”

He pulled back just enough to look at Quinn, taking in the heat in those storm-gray eyes. “Then you'd better do all the work.”

A slow, predatory smile spread across Quinn’s face. “Gladly.”

Quinn’s hands were everywhere then, sliding under Sasha’s T-shirt, palms hot against his skin. Careful of the healing ribs, he pushed the fabric up, exposing Sasha’s chest to the cool air drifting through the open window. The contrast between the chill and Quinn’s burning touch made Sasha gasp.

“God, look at you,” Quinn said, eyes trailing over Sasha’s body.

Sasha might have felt self-conscious under that intense gaze—all pale skin and freckles against Quinn’s golden tan—but the naked hunger in his expression left no room for doubt. His cast made him feel awkward and uncoordinated, but Quinn didn't seem to care.

“You’re staring,” Sasha said, trying to sound annoyed but failing miserably.

“Can’t help it.” Quinn’s fingers traced patterns across Sasha’s chest, circling a nipple until it hardened under his touch. “Been dreaming about this.”

“About getting me naked?” Sasha asked, breath hitching as Quinn leaned down to replace his fingers with his mouth.

“About making you mine,” Quinn corrected then sucked Sasha’s nipple between his teeth.

A moan escaped Sasha’s lips, his back arching despite the protest from his ribs. The slight pain was nothing compared to the pleasure radiating from where Quinn’s mouth worked against his skin. His cock strained against his sweatpants, already leaking at the tip.

“These need to go,” Quinn growled, hooking his fingers into the waistband of Sasha’s sweats. With careful movements, he eased them down Sasha’s hips, taking his boxers along with them.

Sasha kicked them away, suddenly very naked while Quinn remained fully dressed. “Not fair,” he complained, tugging at Quinn’s shirt with his good hand.

Quinn grinned, stripping his shirt off in one smooth motion. The sight of all that tanned muscle made Sasha’s mouth water. Quinn’s chest was broad, tapering to narrow hips, a trail of dark hair disappearing into his jeans. The bulge there looked almost painfully constrained.

“Better?” Quinn asked, knowing damn well what the sight of him did to Sasha.

“Getting there,” Sasha replied, eyes fixed on Quinn’s hands as they moved to his belt.

The sound of leather sliding through belt loops, the metallic clink of the buckle, the rasp of the zipper—each noise ratcheted Sasha’s anticipation higher. When Quinn pushed his jeans down, Sasha couldn’t help the small sound that escaped him.

No underwear. Of course not. Quinn’s cock sprang free, thick and hard, curving slightly toward his stomach. Sasha licked his lips, remembering the taste of him from their first time together.

“Now you’re staring,” Quinn teased, kicking his jeans away.

“Shut up and get over here,” Sasha said, reaching for him with his good arm.

Quinn crawled onto the bed, careful not to jostle Sasha as he positioned himself above him. Their naked bodies pressed together, skin to skin, and Sasha felt like he might combust from the contact alone. Quinn’s cock rubbed against his, the friction sending sparks of pleasure shooting up his spine.

“How do you want this?” Quinn asked, lips brushing against Sasha’s ear. “Need to be careful with those ribs.”

Sasha considered for a moment. “On my back. You on top.” His lips quirked into a smile. “Just don’t crush me with your giant wolf body.”

Quinn laughed, the sound vibrating through Sasha’s chest. “I'll try to restrain myself.” He reached toward the nightstand, pulling open the drawer to retrieve a bottle of lube. “Been keeping this close. Just in case.”

“Optimistic of you,” Sasha teased.

“Prepared,” Quinn corrected, settling between Sasha’s legs. He nudged them further apart, making space for his broad shoulders. “Lift your hips a little for me.”

Sasha complied, and Quinn slid a pillow beneath him, elevating his hips at an angle that would put less strain on his ribs. The care in the gesture made something warm bloom in Sasha’s chest, even as his body thrummed with need.

The cap of the lube clicked open. Quinn warmed the liquid between his fingers before reaching down. The first touch against Sasha’s entrance made him jump slightly.

“Cold?” Quinn asked, circling the tight ring of muscle without pushing in.

“Just...been a while,” Sasha admitted. The sensation of Quinn’s finger against him was electric, teasing and promising at once.

Quinn leaned down to capture his mouth in another kiss, distracting him as one finger slowly pressed inside. The intrusion burned slightly, unfamiliar after so long, but Quinn moved with careful patience. By the time he added a second finger, Sasha was pushing back against his hand, wanting more.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” Quinn murmured against his lips.

Sasha couldn’t formulate a response as Quinn’s fingers curled inside him, finding that spot that made stars burst behind his eyelids. His cast-covered arm lay awkwardly at his side, but his other hand gripped Quinn’s shoulder, nails digging in as pleasure coursed through him.

A third finger joined the others, stretching him further. Quinn worked him open with meticulous attention, watching Sasha’s face for any sign of discomfort. There was none—only mounting desperation as each stroke of those fingers brought him closer to the edge without pushing him over.

“Quinn,” Sasha gasped, hips moving in rhythm with Quinn’s hand. “I’m ready. Please.”