The first time they locked eyes across the crowded gallery, Elias knew—this man was his.
Luca Moretti stood like a statue, all sharp angles and quiet intensity, his dark gaze sweeping over the art with detached precision. But when it landed on Elias, something flickered—something hungry.
A challenge.
Elias didn’t look away. He never looked away.
The game began with a glance, but it would end with Luca on his knees.
Days passed in stolen moments—lingering touches in crowded rooms, the brush of fingers against wrists, the unspoken promise of what would come. Elias could feel Luca’s restraint, the way he held himself back, as if waiting for Elias to make the first move.
He did.
The private room in the back of the gallery was dim, the air thick with the scent of leather and sin. Luca didn’t resist when Elias backed him against the wall, didn’t flinch when his hands pinned Luca’s wrists above his head.
“You’ve been teasing me for weeks,” Elias growled, his thigh pressing between Luca’s legs. “I’m done waiting.”
Luca’s breath hitched, his hips rolling against Elias’s thigh in silent invitation. “Then take it.”
Elias’s mouth crashed onto his, the kiss rough, demanding. Luca met him stroke for stroke, his body arching into the touch, his restraint crumbling.
“Fuck,” Luca gasped against his lips. “I’ve wanted this for so long.”
Elias smirked, his hand sliding down to grip Luca’s throat—not enough to hurt, just enough to remind him who was in control. “Then beg for it.”
And Luca did.
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