Something flashed before Josh's eyes, followed by a dull thud. He stumbled, too stunned to scream, but it wasn't over. Chase grabbed him and threw him onto the bed. His body bounced slightly from the impact, and before he could react, Chase climbed on top of him.
For a fleeting moment, Chase's sharp, elegant face came into view—just as beautiful as always, but entirely devoid of expression. Then, another blow landed. Josh's head snapped to the side as a violent force struck his cheek.
There was no time to question why this was happening. The only thing that filled the air was the sound of skin hitting skin.
Josh's body moved on instinct. He barely managed to stop another incoming fist before striking back, his knuckles grinding against Chase's cheek in retaliation. It was an automatic response—he didn't even think.
No, he should have done that.
But just as Josh's fist was about to swing again, he caught sight of Chase's face—pale, expressionless, utterly unreadable. His fingers twitched. Instead of punching, he grabbed the back of Chase's neck and yanked him down.
"What—?"
He felt Chase stiffen against him. The metallic tang of blood mixed between their lips as they clashed together. Josh's mouth stung from the impact, but he didn't hesitate to deepen the kiss.
He bit Chase's lips, slid his tongue in, and stole every breath from him. Chase, momentarily stunned, tried to pull away, but Josh gripped the back of his head, keeping him locked in place.
The kiss was rough, desperate. Their breaths mingled, their lips clashed, and the wet sounds of their tongues intertwining filled the air. Josh shut his eyes and let instinct take over.
Had Chase's mouth always tasted this intoxicating?
They had kissed countless times before, yet this was different. It felt overwhelming, almost feverish. Josh wanted more—wanted to bite Chase's tongue, lick every inch of his lips, swallow every drop of him whole.
"Mmh—"
A muffled sound escaped Chase's throat as he pulled away, his lips swollen and slick. His breath came in heavy, ragged gasps, his flushed face betraying the tension coursing through his body.
Josh, dazed, stared down at him. His own body was reacting—his arousal pulsed with undeniable urgency. His entire being screamed for more.
The trailer was filled with nothing but the sound of their breathing.
Chase, still catching his breath, raised a trembling hand to cover his mouth. His voice came out uneven.
"What… what the hell are you doing?"
Josh, struggling to restrain himself, exhaled shakily.
"How could I punch that face?"
"You did punch it before," Chase pointed out, his voice still slightly breathless.
Josh huffed a quiet laugh. He let his gaze drop for a second—then suddenly grabbed Chase and flipped them over.
"—!"
Chase found himself beneath Josh, staring up at him.
Their breathing remained heavy, but now, both of them knew the reason behind it.
Josh leaned in. Chase watched him approach, his lips parting slightly. He could have avoided it, but he didn't. Or maybe… he couldn't.
Either way, it didn't matter.
He closed his eyes before their lips met again.
A quiet groan escaped as their mouths reconnected, this time slower, more deliberate. Their tongues met, sliding together as saliva mixed with the lingering taste of blood. Josh explored every inch of his mouth, tracing the roof of it with the tip of his tongue.
A small, involuntary sound slipped from Chase's throat.
Josh's fingers trailed down, brushing against the buttons of Chase's shirt. One flick, and the first button came undone. Then another. And another.
He pulled the fabric aside, revealing smooth, bare skin. His palm roamed over Chase's chest, fingers teasing over a peaked nipple. Chase's entire body tensed under his touch.
Josh smirked.
"Sensitive?"
Chase's face was burning red. His eyes were wide, almost panicked, his hands gripping the sheets in a way that betrayed his uncertainty. His breath hitched as Josh rolled a nipple between his fingers.
The contrast was fascinating.
A man who regularly attended orgy parties, reacting so innocently to something as simple as this?
Josh was intrigued.
His curiosity only grew when Chase's lashes fluttered, his lips parting slightly—almost as if he were waiting for another kiss.
Josh didn't give him one. Instead, he tilted his head and bit down on the side of Chase's neck.
"Ah—!"
A startled gasp escaped as Chase arched slightly beneath him. Josh latched onto the spot, sucking harshly, letting the sound of it echo in the quiet trailer.
Chase stiffened, his breathing sharp and uneven.
His body was betraying him. His arousal was painfully obvious, even as his expression remained torn between resistance and confusion.
Josh watched him closely, fascinated by the contradiction.
A sudden, wicked thought entered his mind.
What if he pushed him further?
What if he pulled Chase's pants down right now—took his arousal into his mouth, sucked him until he spilled over his lips?
Would Chase panic? Would he cry out in embarrassment?
The mere thought sent a sharp pulse of arousal through Josh's own body.
His breathing grew heavier, rougher. He was dangerously close to losing control.
But not yet.
Instead, he exhaled slowly and asked, "Can you tell me why you hit me just now?"
Silence.
Chase said nothing.
Josh waited. And waited.
Then, finally—
"You… don't meet her."
Josh blinked. "Who?"
Chase's fingers clenched the sheets. His voice was lower now, but the frustration was clear.
"That woman. Pittman's secretary."
Josh froze. It took him a second to process the words.
Then, slowly, he blinked.
"Emma?"
"Don't say her name! And don't meet her! Ever!"
Chase's voice rose, thick with emotion. He hit the mattress with his fist in frustration, glaring up at Josh with unmistakable jealousy.
Josh frowned. "She's my little sister."
Chase's breath hitched. "What?"
"Emma is my younger sister."
Chase completely froze. His mouth opened, then closed, as if trying to process what he had just heard.
His mind replayed it.
Emma Bailey.
Joshua Bailey.
His face drained of color.
"You're lying."
Josh sighed. "I'm not."
A heavy silence filled the air.
Chase blinked, staring blankly. Slowly, the pieces clicked together in his head.
Oh.
Oh.
His lips parted slightly, but no sound came out.
Josh tilted his head, his face dangerously close now. His voice was lower, slower.
"So? Where's my apology?"
Chase stiffened. His mouth opened and closed several times, unable to form words.
When was the last time he had apologized to someone?
Did it even matter?
Right now, there was only one thing to do.
"…Sorry."
The word came out hoarse, barely a whisper.
Josh smirked. His face, still marred with blood and bruises, twisted into something darkly amused.
Before Chase could react, Josh climbed back on top of him.
The sound of a belt unfastening filled the silence.
Chase swallowed hard.
"Chase," Josh murmured, lips brushing against his ear.
His voice was husky, breath warm.
"If you're wrong, you need to be punished."
With that, he yanked Chase's tie loose in one swift motion, wrapping the fabric around his wrists.
Chase's breath hitched. He looked up, wide-eyed.
His face was pale—his body trembling.