8: I'm not gay

Derek's POV

I avoid Aleks for the rest of the day.

And now, even at night, I can't sleep.

I lie on top of the guest room covers in the dark, staring at the ceiling, replaying the same three seconds on a loop. Aleks on his knees. Aleks licking my finger clean. Aleks smiling like he'd just won something.

Don't have the guts.

I roll over and bury my face in the pillow, but it doesn't help. By 3 a.m., I'm so hard my jeans feel a size too small. I refuse to touch myself. I'm not giving him that satisfaction. I'm not giving him anything.

Oh God, why did I walk out like that? I could have said anything. Why did I let him rage bait me?

By morning, the world outside has vanished.

Snow. Everything is buried in thick, heavy snow. The mountains, the driveway, the winding road we took up the mountain. A massive white wall, sealing us in.

I find the emergency notification on my phone when I finally drag myself downstairs. Avalanche risk. Roads closed. No property access for at least three days.

I stand in the middle of the living room, phone in hand, telling myself this is fine. I'm in control. I have the leverage. Nothing about yesterday changes the dynamic.

I just have to keep a tight leash on his rage bait.

Then I hear him moving around the kitchen.

Aleks stands at the counter in a grey sweater and black joggers, his hair damp from the shower, a mug in one hand. The pale morning light catches the blond strands. He looks entirely too relaxed, too rested, like he didn't spend yesterday with my come drying on his face.

I hate him.

I hate even more that he doesn't look like a man being blackmailed.

He pours a second cup of coffee without turning around and slides it across the marble island. "We're snowed in."

"I noticed."

"Gunnar called. He wants us to use the time constructively." He says the last word with a polite smile. "I assume that means no more fighting."

I scoff, but I take the coffee. Our fingers brush, and a jolt of heat shoots all the way up my arm.

I yank my hand back and retreat to the far end of the room. I make a show of checking my phone, scrolling through empty notifications, anything to stop watching him.

It doesn't work.

My eyes keep tracking his every move. The curve of his forearm as he reaches for the sugar. The way his mouth quirks up when he thinks I'm not looking.

That mouth.

My dick was in that mouth.

I shake my head, but my mind drags me right back.

I know what that skin tastes like now.

No. I don't. I know what his mouth tasted like. That's different.

Aleks glances over his shoulder and catches me staring straight at him.

I look away, but I'm too late.

He doesn't say a word. He just turns back to the sink with the most infuriating smirk, and my face goes hot.

I spend the next hour pacing the chalet like a caged animal. The small basement gym. The library. The balcony, where the freezing mountain air slaps me in the face and does nothing to cool my temper. I run on the treadmill for thirty minutes until my lungs burn.

Every time I come back upstairs, he's somewhere in my line of sight.

Reading by the fireplace. Stretching his shoulders at the window. Cooking lunch with his back turned, completely unbothered by my existence.

He's doing it on purpose.

And the worst part is, I can't think of a single way to use the recording that doesn't end with him on his knees again.

By the time the sun starts dipping behind the white peaks, I'm wound so tight I can barely stand still. I pour a finger of whiskey, drain it, and pour another.

Aleks appears in the doorway, leaning against the frame.

"Something on your mind, Derek?"

"Why? Is there something on yours?"

He shrugs. "There could be."

I scoff. "You know, for someone being blackmailed, you seem pretty into it. Almost like you want a repeat of yesterday."

Something flickers across his face. He masks it fast, but I catch it.

I smile slowly. "Oh, Aleks. Did that do it for you? Finally got a taste of me and can't get enough?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Derek." His voice is smooth, but his eyes stay on me. "I should be asking you the same thing."

Every muscle in my body locks up.

"I'm not gay."

For a second, Aleks just stares at me.

Then he bursts out laughing.

"What's so funny?" I snap.

"Nothing. It's just..." He wipes the corner of his eye, still smiling. "Last I checked, straight men don't get hard from being blown by a dude."

Heat crawls up my neck. "It was a reaction to stimuli."

"Right." His smile turns razor-thin. "I believe that's what I told you yesterday. Funny how you didn't buy it then."

"Fuck you."

"Sure, Derek. Whatever helps you sleep at night."

Fuck this.

He's trying to take the upper hand again. I'm not letting him.

"Then get the fuck out," I say. "I'll call you when I need you."

"You seem to be forgetting we're sharing the house."

"It's blackmail, Aleks." I slam the glass down on the counter. "Don't push me."