Chapter 1: Exhausted Hearts

Chapter 1: Exhausted Hearts

The penthouse still smelled like new leather and the lilies the florist had dropped off that morning. Noah stood near the massive sectional, hands shoved in his pockets, watching Richard Hargrove walk the length of the room for the third time. The man’s shoes made soft clicks against the dark oak. Every lamp Noah had chosen was on, casting warm pools of light that caught on the brass fixtures and the low, modern coffee table.

Mr Hargrove finally stopped in front of the floor to ceiling windows, hands on his hips as he took in the skyline. He was fifty three, with a low key presence that only comes from absolute financial stability, the quiet kind of wealth that didn’t need to prove anything… the man is fucking loaded… in other words.

When he turned, he clapped a heavy hand on Noah’s shoulder.

“Impressive work, Sinclair,” he said, giving the shoulder a firm squeeze. “You got it exactly right, just the way I envisioned it. Modern, warm and masculine. None of that cold, sterile bachelor crap I was afraid of. It actually feels like somewhere I’d want to come home to.”

Noah forced a smile, the easy professional one he’d spent years training into muscle memory… in his line of work it was needed but It didn’t touch the exhaustion sitting heavy behind his eyes. “Thank you Mr. Hargrove. I’m glad you’re satisfied with the finished look.”

Satisfied? I suppose... but the word sat empty in his chest as he shook Hargrove’s hand and started packing up his stuff.

Thirty minutes later Noah stepped out of the glass elevator into the quiet marble lobby. He hooked a finger under his tie and pulled it until the knot loosened, then let out a slow long breath he had been holding for the longest time… While trying to stay professional.

At twenty nine he was one of the most sought after interior designers in the city, but success tasted bitter and sour in his mouth lately. He could make other people’s homes feel warm and lively while his own two bedroom apartment felt like an empty showroom no one ever lived in or wished to stay for long.

His phone buzzed against his thigh with a message from Zach, his best friend.

Zach: Hey pretty boy, I am packed downstairs waiting for you, You know better not to keep me waiting for too long.

Noah stared at the screen for a second, his thumb hovering over the keyboard. A small smile tugged at his mouth despite the exhaustion still weighing on his shoulders. Twelve years of friendship and Zach was still the one person who could drag one out of him on nights like this… the one and only constant in his chaotic life.

He spotted the matte black SUV parked half on the curb near the entrance. Typical of him. Zach had never met a parking rule he gave a shit about.

As he got closer, the driver’s door opened, and Zach stepped out, 6 ft 3 of raw power and confidence… broad through the chest and shoulders, his black t-shirt stretched tight from years of underground MMA fights. His black hair was slightly messy like he'd dragged a hand through it on his way over, and those sharp piercing blue eyes locked on Noah immediately. Even in a simple black t-shirt and jeans, he looked like danger wrapped in sin and temptation.

“Long day?” Zach asked, his voice low, keeping its manly huskiness. The second Noah was close enough, he hooked an arm around his shoulders and pulled him in without waiting for an answer. His chest was solid and warm through the thin shirt, smelling like cedarwood soap and the day's sweat, and that low, familiar scent that was just him. Noah let his forehead rest there for a beat, eyes closing for a second longer than he should have.

“You have no idea,” Noah muttered against Zach’s chest, inhaling the familiar scent of him. “Client dropped a full redesign on me at seven. Drained the fuck out of me.”

Zach pulled back a little but still kept one hand on the back of Noah’s neck, thumb pressing slow, deliberate circles into the tight muscle, squeezing gently from time to time like he knew exactly how much pressure he needed. “Get in,” Zach said against his hair. “Ryan’s holding our usual table.”

Noah stayed where he was for a beat, Zach’s hand heavy and steady against his neck, the rhythm of those squeezes against his skin made something loose in his spine that had nothing to do with work. Then he nodded once against Zach’s collarbone and stepped back to open the passenger door.

The car smelled like worn leather and the faint trace of Zach’s cologne as they pulled away from the curb. Noah sank into the passenger seat, his tie still hanging loose around his neck, and he let his head fall back against the headrest for a second.

Zach glanced over before shifting into gear.

“Client finally happy or still being a pain in the ass?”

“Happy enough to pay,” Noah muttered. “Which means I get to do the whole thing again in six weeks.”

Zach snorted low and warm, and dropped his hand back to the gear shift. Every time he changed gears the back of his knuckles brushed Noah’s thigh through his slacks. It wasn’t new. It had been happening the entire drive and neither of them said anything about it.

By the time they reached The Edge, the city was spread out beneath them in a wash of lights. The rooftop bar sat on top of the old warehouse like it had always belonged there. Ryan spotted them the second the elevator doors opened and grinned loudly.

There they are! My two favorite assholes,” Ryan called out, already pouring their usual drinks… whiskey neat for Zach, gin and tonic for Noah.

Zach laughed and rested a hand on Noah’s lower back, guiding him toward their regular corner booth. The touch was casual and familiar but still sent a quick, sharp shiver straight up Noah’s spine. He told himself it was just the long day finally catching up with him.

They slid into the booth, Zach’s arm immediately draping across the back of the seat behind Noah’s shoulders like it belonged there. Their thighs pressed together under the table, solid and warm through the fabric of Noah’s pants. It has always been this close between them but lately Noah had started noticing things he shouldn't on a normal… The way Zach's muscle flexed when he shifted a bit to get comfortable, the intensity in those blue eyes when they lingered on him.

“You look like shit, man,” Ryan said bluntly as he set their drinks down while looking in Noah's direction. “No offense.”

Noah huffed out a short laugh that came out rougher than he meant. “None taken,” Noah replied dryly, taking a long sip. “Just another day of making rich people’s homes prettier than their personalities.”

Zach turned slightly to study him properly, those sharp blue eyes softened with sincere concern. He reached over and brushed a stray curl away from Noah’s forehead with his thumb, the gesture so natural it made Noah’s chest tighten.

“You’ve been pushing yourself too hard again,” Zach said quietly, voice low enough that only two of them could hear.

“When’s the last time you actually relaxed? Or…” His thumb lingered at Noah’s temple. “When’s the last time someone touched you properly like you needed it, Noah? You look like you haven’t been touched in ages and that… my friend… is not right at all.”

Noah’s breath caught, a sharp gasp slipping out before he could stop it, he tried to laugh it off but the sound came out strained. “Not all of us have a revolving door of admirers like you, champ.”

Zach didn’t laugh with him or even find it funny, he just kept looking at him, his blue eyes steady and unreadable. The silence between them stretched and for a moment, the noisy rooftop bar faded into the background.

Ryan cleared his throat. “Jesus. If you two are gonna eye-fuck each other, at least wait until I’m not sitting here.”

I will leave you two to it, he said as he grabbed his drink and stood up. “I’ll be at the bar, try not to scare away my other customers with that intensity or set the booth on fire while I’m gone.”

As Ryan walked away, Zach raised his glass. “To another win for you today… and to finally catching a break.”

Noah clinked his glass against Zach’s, their fingers brushed slighly. When he looked up, Zach was still watching him, his gaze lingering a little too long with great intensity, it was so intense that Noah was the first to look away, his heart racing. It was obvious that something electrical… or should I say… magical passed between them, something so different and dangerous.

Noah felt a strange flutter low in his stomach, a warmth that had nothing to do with the alcohol, he took a bigger sip of his gin than necessary.

What the fuck was that?