Liam’s knees trembled on the wet marble, his lips swollen and glistening with the remnants of Nick’s release. The shower pounded down on them like a relentless drum, matching the chaotic thunder of his heart. He could still taste the thick, salty musk of the arrogant CEO on his tongue, bitter, addictive, utterly humiliating. I’m straight, his mind screamed. I slapped this bastard two days ago. What the fuck am I doing on my knees?

But his cock throbbed painfully against his soaked jeans, harder than it had ever been with any woman. Traitorous. Aching. Leaking.

Nick hauled him up by the wet collar of his shirt, slamming their bodies...