Page 5

W hen Morgan suggested they go to a club, Lex had assumed he meant a club—normal and trashy, with watered-down drinks and too many guys named Jackson. The kind of place that smelled like high school body spray and regret, bass thumping with overplayed electronic music.

He hadn’t expected this .

Buried two levels underground, tucked behind an unmarked steel door that looked like it belonged on a vault, the place had a vibe. Not necessarily a good one, but fun.

Very fun.

And the bouncer?

Built like a fucking truck didn’t even begin to cover it.

Dude was massive .

Broad shoulders, neck the size of Lex’s thigh, and arms that looked like they could fold him in half.

Less fun .

The bouncer didn’t smile. Didn’t nod. Didn’t even glance down at them, just stood there like part of the wall.

“ID.”

For a second, Lex didn’t know who’s ID the bouncer needed, and he didn’t want to end up accidentally pissing off someone that size. He scrambled for his wallet, but Morgan’s hand on his arm made him stop.

One beep of a handheld scanner aimed at Morgan’s ID and they were inside.

Lex hadn’t asked how Morgan found the place.

Should he have? Yes. Hell yes.

No more secrets. No more lies.

But a teeny, tiny part of him didn’t want to know. Something about Morgan knowing where to find places like this was kinda hot.

Not that Lex would ever tell him that. Accidentally turning Morgan into an over-bloated megalomaniac sounded like his personal version of hell. He had enough ego to deal with on a day-to-day basis.

Maybe—maybe the secrets were… fine. For now.

Not the lies.

Inside, the lighting was low and the ceilings were higher than they should’ve been. Giant gold arches rimmed the walls—something straight out of King Midas’ playbook—and the velvet booths looked expensive enough to bankrupt a Wall Street broker in one night.

The scent hit Lex first—perfume, cologne, top-shelf alcohol, expensive sweat. And something else. Something sharp and musky, tickling the back of his throat. Electrified, but subtle .

Old money, maybe.

No, not necessarily, but—

Power . That was the smell. Every square inch reeked of it.

This place was fucking insane.

They moved to the bar, which took up the entire back wall, lit from below in warm amber. Lex slid into the stool, tucking his sneakers into the bottom rungs, while Morgan stood close enough that Lex could feel the heat radiating off him.

Lex ordered whatever fizzy thing they had on tap. Something sweet and cold and as far removed from alcohol as he could find.

Morgan ordered bourbon. With a twist. Of course.

“This doesn’t seem like your kinda scene at all,” Lex muttered as he picked up the soda, fingers already damp with sweat from the glass.

“How so?”

“It’s very shi shi foo foo.”

Morgan snorted so hard Lex almost saw the bourbon dripping from his nose.

Grabbing the napkin his drink was sitting on, Morgan dabbed his face, chuckling into it.

“You good?” Lex asked, grinning.

“Of all the things to come out of your mouth,” Morgan murmured, muffled in the napkin. “I didn’t expect that. I should’ve learned by now, but you still surprise me.”

“Are your facial muscles alright? I’ve never seen you laughing this much. Is your Botox fading?”

“You’re very cute, Lex.”

Morgan turned his body slightly, hips brushing Lex’s knee. Close, but not crowding. “My opinion of this place is that it’s… extravagant, to put it lightly. But we’re not here for me.”

“Aw, are we here for me? ”

Morgan plucked the glass from Lex’s hand and set it aside. Then, smooth as hell, he spun the stool around, stepped behind Lex, and slid an arm low around his waist. His hand dipped just under the hem of Lex’s shirt, skin-to-skin now, the contact barely there but blistering all the same.

“I said I’d teach you how to pick someone out,” he whispered in that soft, lilting voice. His fingers moved up slowly, trailing heat across Lex’s ribs. “Lessons start now.”

Melting wasn’t an option. Not here. Not in front of all these strangers. But every nerve ending in Lex’s body rioted.

Morgan’s lips brushed the shell of his ear. “Look, but don’t stare. There’s a difference.”

Lex swallowed past the tightness in his throat, eyes skimming over the crowd.

Morgan’s hand trailed up his chest—featherlight, cruelly soft—until concentrating was, really, just fucking impossible.

“What about—” Lex started, and Morgan cut him off.

“Not discreet enough. Do you see their confidence? It means they have someone that cares about them. They’ll be missed.”

“H—how can you tell that?”

Lex wanted to slap himself. His voice broke, quivering and shaking, but Morgan was toying with his nipples and he was more worried about collapsing and making a scene.

“Experience, my sweet.”

Fuck .

“So—” Lex sucked in air, too much, and suddenly the walls moved. The pressure of the club crashed in on all sides, tilted the room sideways. “Shy?”

“Even shy birds have wings.”

Morgan’s teeth caught the edge of Lex’s ear and bit. Not hard enough to hurt, but enough to shut down every other sense. Lex couldn’t smother the groan.

“You’re thinking too much again. You’ll know when you see them. Follow your instincts.”

“I’m having a hard time following anything right now, Morgan,” Lex hissed, and finally he caught Morgan’s hands, dug his fingers in like a drowning man.

Fucking in public was one thing. But not here. Not with the heat and the noise and some stranger’s elbow brushing his shoulder every ten seconds. Not when half the club was made of phones, all too willing to watch.

That was a fast track to jail for indecent exposure. Or worse.

“I know.” Morgan pressed a kiss into the side of Lex’s neck. “That’s the point. Try again.”

Lex had vaulted over irritated and landed in the danger zone—frustrated, overheated, and so fucking horny he could barely think. There was no way he was going to figure out whatever Morgan was talking about.

But instead of doing what he wanted—grabbing Morgan by the collar, dragging him to the darkest corner and begging for a hand, a mouth, something —he forced himself to breathe. To focus.

Not confident. But not shy.

What does that even leave ?

The brunette at the far table was out—too surrounded, too loud. Everyone around her was laughing, touching her. She wouldn’t go quietly.

The pierced and tattooed guy nearby? Also out. Phone in hand—streaming, or whatever the hell he was doing. No. He wanted to be seen. And Lex didn’t want to chance the encounter being saved online for all of eternity.

At least Morgan wasn’t screwing with him anymore. The teasing fingers and whispers had stopped. Now it was just the steady, soft press of Morgan’s leather jacket against Lex’s back, and the smell of that nighttime cologne; wood and pine. Cold. Like last December.

Why was this taking forever ?

The music was low and muted, swallowed by conversation, and Lex was about ready to fucking snap. He had to physically unclench his jaw.

It was a last-ditch effort when he tilted his head.

He didn’t even know what he was hoping to find at this point. Let Morgan be pissed. Call off the lesson. Lex could deal. He didn’t care. Not really.

Not anymore.

“What about him?” Lex muttered.

The guy was easy to spot.

Badly dyed pink hair and big eyes that caught every flicker of movement. He sat at the far end of the bar, turned inward, holding his drink like it might shatter if he let go.

At first glance, even Lex had to admit he was pretty. Not attractive. Not Morgan . Pretty in the way a painting would be. But the longer Lex watched him, the more he seemed off .

Maybe it was how out of place the plain, almost preppy outfit, looked, or maybe it was the way his eyes tracked every movement around him. Not casual. Not curious. Just… wary of the entire fucking world.

Lex knew the feeling.

The ones who didn’t belong but came anyway—chasing something invisible. A feeling. A fix. A fucking reason . He’d been that kid. Once. Long ago. Drowning all of himself in alcohol, praying for shit to get better even if he never put in the effort.

But this guy? He wasn’t some drunk on the hunt for a hookup.

He was waiting for something. Or someone.

“Tell me why,” Morgan murmured, low and amused.

“He looks… lost.”

Maybe lost wasn’t the right word, but it was the best Lex could come up with on the spot.

The guy looked like someone without a home.

Morgan purred, and the sound was so close it felt like touch. “Good boy. Let’s go say hello.”

They didn’t pounce.

That was important.

Lex concentrated on the music he could hear, going through the possible one-liners in his head, but Morgan moved through the crowd like nothing was good enough to touch him .

Slow. Measured. Wearing that blank, disinterested expression that made people lean in without knowing why—desperate to be the exception. To be noticed.

As bad as Lex wanted that same kind of style, it wasn’t his. He couldn’t mimic that shit when he was brimming with energy, bouncing on his heels as he leaned on the bar.

Flirting was the easy part. He’d done it a million times in New York.

He’d also seen Morgan’s approach too many times to count—had watched how his sharpness cut deeper than the knife, how he went too hard too fast and left people breathless or screaming.

That wasn’t going to work here.

Not with the one Lex had chosen.

The guy radiated softness.

Even now, patchy pink and brown hair glowing under the lights, he looked out of place—a child playing dress-up in an adult’s world. One wrong move and he’d bolt.

Morgan had said it himself.

Be the honey if you want. You play pushover better than I ever could.

Lex could do that. He’d done worse.

“Hi,” Lex said, sliding onto the empty bar stool with a practiced grin. “Are you a shrinking violet, or just trying not to be noticed?”

The guy startled a little, glass wobbling in his grip.

Up close, his features were almost doll like—soft mouth, long lashes, the kind of unintentional charm that made people either protect you or pick you apart .