Page 40 of The Money Shot

My stomach plummeted when I saw Jack standing in the doorway, his eyes wide with shock and fury. Next to him was a guy I’d never seen before, his expression shifting from confusion to something bordering on horror.

“What the hell is going on here?” Jack’s voice cut through the room like a knife.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Jack

David turned to me, his eyes wide as dinner plates. “Dude, this is too freaky, even for me. My girlfriend would lose her shit if she ever walked in on something like this.”

Before I could say a word, he bolted. Sprinting toward the front door, he yanked it open and disappeared down the hallway.

I stood there, staring at the chaos in front of me. Liam sprawled on the bed, flushed and panting, the sheets a mess beneath him. A camera tripod sat a few feet away, surrounded by lighting equipment, and this…muscular guy was still on top of him like he belonged there.

My hands balled into fists at my sides. Part of me wanted to drag that guy off of Liam and kick his ass out onto the street. The other part—one I didn’t want to acknowledge—felt a flicker of heat. I couldn’t stop looking at Liam, even if I wanted to.

“Get the hell out. Both of you,” I said, my voice sharp enough to cut glass.

The guy froze, glancing back at the woman with the camera. She shrugged like she didn’t give a damn.

“Does this mean we’re done?” the guy asked, his voice almost sheepish.

Liam didn’t look at him and didn’t look at me. “Yeah.”

The guy shifted, climbing off of Liam slowly, gingerly, like he wasn’t sure if Liam would shatter beneath him. He grabbed his clothes from a pile on the floor and got dressed without saying another word. Meanwhile, the woman started packing up her gear, muttering under her breath about wasted time and amateurs.

My eyes couldn’t stop drifting back to Liam. He was lying there, bare and exposed, his skin flushed pink and his hair sticking to his damp forehead. I’d never seen him like this before—never seen anyone like this before.

He noticed me staring, and his hands shot to cover himself. His face twisted in something I couldn’t name—shame? Embarrassment? Hurt? A tear slipped down the side of his nose, and he swiped at it furiously.

The man and woman finished packing up, muttering something to each other before heading to the door. I stepped aside, letting them pass without a word. The front door clicked shut behind them, leaving only silence.

I turned back to Liam, still on the bed, and walked over. Sitting down on the edge, I felt the mattress shift under my weight.

Liam turned his face away from me, his expression crumbling into something broken. Shame radiated off him in waves, and it made my chest tighten in a way I couldn’t explain.

I willed him to look at me, to say something. Anything. But he wouldn’t. He kept his head turned away, one arm flung across his face like he wanted to disappear, the other hand hovering awkwardly over his crotch. His pain radiated off him, thick and suffocating. But what the hell was I supposed to say?

“It’s okay” would be a lie. Nothing about this was okay.

The silence dragged on, and my gaze faltered. My stupid, traitorous eyes betrayed me, drifting lower. His hands weretrying to cover himself, but they didn’t quite do the job. My face heated instantly, and I snapped my gaze back up to the wall behind him. But it was too late.

“Please,” Liam said, his voice breaking. “Just…leave.”

The raw emotion in his voice hit me like a gut punch. I swallowed hard and stood up too quickly, my knees bumping the edge of the bed. The sudden movement made me realize something else entirely—something worse.

Shit.

I was hard.

I turned away from Liam, trying to hide it, trying to force my body to chill the hell out. What the hell was wrong with me? This was Liam—my best friend, my roommate. This was not the time for my body to betray me like this.

I gritted my teeth, closing my eyes for a second as if that might fix everything. It didn’t. My mind was racing, and my skin felt too hot, like I was about to combust right there.

Without looking back, I walked to the door. My hand hovered over the frame as I paused. “Get dressed,” I breathed. “We need to talk.”

I didn’t wait for his reply, and stepped out of the room, shutting the door behind me.

I walked to the kitchen, yanked the fridge door open, and grabbed two beers. The cool metal of the cans against my palm grounded me a little as I stalked out to the balcony. Sliding the door shut behind me, I set the beers down on the cheap plastic table and dropped into one of the matching plastic chairs.