Novels by Moondraft

CHAPTER FOUR The Metropolitan Museum of Art pulsed with wealth and ambition under glittering chandeliers. Ethan stood tall in his tailored tuxedo, one hand resting possessively on Victoria Lang’s lower back as cameras flashed around them. She smelled like expensive perfume and safety. Beautiful. Poised. The kind of woman who made headlines without asking questions.“You’re gripping me a little tight tonight,” Victoria whispered with a soft laugh, tilting her head toward him. “Rough day with that new writer?”Ethan forced a charming smile for the photographers. “Just work. Nothing I cannot handle.”But his mind was not on Victoria. It was on Julian, always on Julian since he tumbled into his life. The way those hazel eyes had challenged him earlier, the faint scent of his cologne that had lingered in the office long after he left. Ethan’s body still remembered the night they had shared, it was practically the only thing his mind drifted to every now and then. The tight, wet heat. The

Julian Hayes closed the door to his small temporary office and leaned against it for a moment, eyes closed, breathing deliberately slow.His body was still buzzing from the morning confrontation. Ethan Cross — the same man who had pinned him down and fucked him like he was hungry for something— was now pretending that night never existed.Julian straightened his new dark button-down, ran a hand through his hair, and picked up his laptop and heavily detailed manuscript. He needed this contract.He needed this contract. The money would finally keep body and soul together. He couldn’t afford to let one unforgettable night ruin this opportunity of a lifetime. But that didn’t mean he had to make it easy for Ethan.At exactly 2:00 p.m., he knocked on the door of the corner office.“Come in.”Julian stepped inside. The late afternoon light poured through the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Fifth Avenue, casting long shadows across the massive mahogany desk.Mr. Cross,” Julian said, voic

Ethan Cross stood under the punishing spray of his rainfall shower, palms pressed flat against the cold marble wall, letting the near-scalding water beat down on his shoulders.It had been barely four hours since the stranger left his penthouse, yet every muscle in Ethan’s body was still remembered. The tight, slick heat. The way the man had moaned and pushed back to meet every brutal thrust. The raw, euphoric release that had torn through him like lightning after years of denial.He closed his eyes and cursed under his breath. Water cascaded over his broad chest down the defined lines of his abs. His cock tightened at the vivid memory, already half hard again despite how thoroughly he came from last night. Ethan gave in and gripped himself roughly, stroking once, twice before forcing his hand away with a groan. One night of weakness was enough.He had spent the last twelve years building an impeccable public image— Cross media, the distinguished publishing empire his father had left

Julian Hayes slammed his laptop shut so hard the screen flickered in protest. The rejection email still burned his eyes; we regret to inform you that your manuscript does not align with our current list. Another one. The fifth one today.His rent was due in four days and he had $47.86 in his account with a growing sense the universe has decided to personally fuck him over. He dragged a hand through his messy dark hair. He couldn’t stay in this cramped studio any second more. The walls were closing in and he felt he was suffocating with failure and fatigue.He craved release. He needed to be fucked so throughly to shut his brain entirely. He changed into a fitted black button down that clung to his lean toned torso and his finest jeans which accentuated his long legs and firm ass. He grabbed his keys and stepped outside into the cool New York night. Twenty minutes later, he pushed through the unmarked door of Velvet, an exclusive, low profile gay bar tucked discreetly in the upper eas