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Do you believe in hate at first sight? Neither did I, until Niko fucking Adamos strides into Studio 1 like he owns the goddamn place.
Alex is surprisingly tough. The guy is a bulldog. He’ll smile and flatter and kill you with kindness, but he’s relentless when it comes to prying into his friends’ lives. Or, as he calls it, caring.
I’m not used to people disliking me. Everyone likes me. I’m a likable guy. I smile a lot. I listen. I care.
“What’s he like?” she asks, dishing food onto her plate. I think about it. Hot is the first word that comes to mind. He’s tall, a bit taller than my six-foot frame. Beautiful, Black, muscles for days, thighs the size of tree trunks, sharp brown eyes. “Grumpy,” I answer instead. “Seems like a bit of a dick.” Cass raises an eyebrow, looking at me knowingly. “So you’re attracted to him?” I groan. “Maybe a smidge.”
Dixon gives me a look. “I don’t bottom.” “Right,” I say slowly, nodding my head. “Makes sense. No room up there with that stick firmly lodged in place.”
How are we possibly supposed to develop chemistry and sell these boyfriend videos if my costar can’t even stand to be around me? “This is going to be a disaster.”
“Mat, kitten, my little marshmallow, that is too much information,” I say.
But as Dixon’s hand travels lower to clasp my dick, he tucks his face into my neck and whispers, “Niki,” and I know—I know—Dixon is here with me.
“Niki, why the hell are we spinning clay? Is there something about me…something about my person…that screams pottery lover to you? Because if so, please tell me so I can remove it.”
You certainly knew how to act like a good boyfriend during our scenes, not that I need you to act with me. I want Dixon, not Dix.” There’s a pause, and then quietly, Dixon says, “I don’t think I was ever acting with you, Niki.” My heart just about stops.
“You are grumpy, but I like it. I like all the pieces of you, Dixon, and I call you ‘my grump’ because you are. It’s not an insult. It’s a compliment. And I want you to know I accept you. Just as you are.”
“I’m not going anywhere. Ever.” “Is that your way of telling me you’re my happy ending?” he asks, voice wistful and tender. I smile against his skin. “No, griniári mou. This is only our beginning.”
