Page 35 of Strut

The train pulled into Washington Square Station, and I wrapped my scarf around my neck and took the stairs two at a time to the street and then quickly crossed into Greenwich Village and its abundance of sidewalk restaurants and cute tree-lined lanes. A rainbow of fall leaves crunched underfoot and chattered in the gutter with the brisk breeze. Charming architecture cast crisp shadows on the sidewalk and the enticing aroma of bakeries and cafés ribboned through the narrow streets.

It was a world away from the dodgy grey neighbourhood of my dreary Murray Hill apartment and its seemingly endless mountain of trash bags piled on the sidewalk right outside. Not that Greenwich was free of the problem, but somehow its trash just looked... better.

TheHarper’s Bazaarshoot was a two-day affair. The first was in a Greenwich pre-renovation industrial loft, complete with cobwebs and dust, according to Hunter who seemed endearingly excited by the possibilities. The second was up on the roof space of the same building. Hopefully the weather cooperated but the forecast looked good. Cold and clear. The unusual run of hot weather had finally broken, and it was as if New York had skipped October and gone straight to early winter—chilly mornings, chilly evenings, and something not quite warm in between.

It took only ten minutes to find the address I needed, butterflies churning in my belly as I bypassed the dodgy-looking elevator and headed up the stairs toward the hum of activity on the top floor. Hunter was easy to spot, looking downright edible in a pair of relaxed black slacks, brown leather loafers, and a crisp rust button-down shirt with an open collar and sleeves rolled up to his elbows. It showed off his dark olive forearms and tempting curls of black hair.Holy moly. The man was mouth-watering.

I slipped inside and leaned against the wall to watch him work. No one even gave me a second look, likely because I looked like I belonged there. One of the makeup stylists even shot me a wave, recognising me from fashion week, but I put my finger to my lips and nodded toward Hunter so he didn’t give me away. The stylist glanced between us and smiled, zipping his lips.

Hunter took all my attention as I drank in the sight and the familiar feel of him at work. It was a few minutes before I even noticed the models he was shooting, so engrossed was I in watching him direct lighting changes and camera angles, working with the models’ poses to nail his vision while maintaining a constant chatter with the creative director about what they were getting. He moved between using various camera setups, to free shooting with a handheld, sometimes even lying on the floor itself. I knew he was good, but I’d never had the time to just watch him work without thinking about being on the other side of the lens.

When I finally broke off to focus on the models, I knew Hunter had his hands full. I’d worked with one of the women before, Helena. And although very successful, stunning, and extremely popular, she was a handful of attitude and entitlement, at least from what I’d witnessed in her interactions with others.

But Hunter managed her beautifully with flattery and loads of encouragement to get what he needed. Helena was putty in his hands, laughing and batting her lashes like some coquettish schoolgirl, while the other four models, two women and two men, rolled their eyes at each other and shook their heads.

I bit back a smile. Helena could flirt all she damn well wanted, but at the end of the day, Hunter would drop her like yesterday’s trash and come home with me.

End of story.

One of the male models, who I also knew from fashion week, caught my eye, raised a curious brow, and nodded hello. It was then that Hunter finally turned and noticed me standing there, and my heart stuttered at the bright and welcoming smile that lit up his face.

I was in so much trouble with this man.

“Take five, everyone,” he called to the small crowd of people who looked at him like he’d lost his mind. “AB, can you brush that shine off Helena please?” he added like that explained everything, and I almost laughed. Then he headed straight for me, and if I’d thought he might be a bit more circumspect in his workplace, I was in for a shock.

“Alec.” He pulled me in for a hard kiss that drew everyone’s attention and I’m pretty sure my blush was deep enough to be clocked by the space station. “Man, are you a sight for sore eyes.” He grabbed my hand and tugged me out the door and down the hall where we could be alone. Then he cradled my face and stared at me like a cold drink on a hot day.

“I take it you’re having a challenging morning?” I slid my arms around his shoulders and pressed a soft kiss to his warm lips. I was aiming for light and respectable, but he immediately opened and deepened the kiss until our tongues were battling and I was swallowing his needy groans. His fingers tunnelled through my hair, and I hit the wall with an oomph as he owned my mouth.

Well, all righty then.Someone was hungry. I smiled against his open mouth and let him take what he needed. I didn’t give a fuck who saw. The hallway was empty except for a couple of grips chatting by the fire escape, a man on his phone, and three racks of clothes. And Hunter didn’t hold back, immersing himself completely in the kiss, his mouth hard and ravenous, his body pressed against mine, and just like that, we were back in that stairwell.

When he finally came up for air, he kissed up my jaw to nibble my ear. “I’ve missed you.”

I snorted. “It’s beenoneday, you sap.” I pulled him back to my lips for another kiss. “I’ve barely grown stubble since then.”

“I knoooow,” he groaned. “I’m so pathetic, I make myself sick. Look what you’ve done to me.”

“Have you been a good boy?” I whispered against his lips. “Have you left that gorgeous cock alone? Because I’ve been thinking about Friday and what you might taste like.” I brushed my lips across his. “I’m gonna slide my lips over that slick head and swallow you down until you come so hard you see fucking stars.”

Hunter groaned loud enough to draw attention from the two grips who just shook their heads. “Jesus Christ, Alec.” He angled his body, putting his back to the others, and then shoved my hand over the hard ridge in his trousers. “How am I supposed to work like this?”

“Mmmm.” I gave it a hard squeeze and then let go, not wanting to escalate things. “How about you stop talking and kiss me again?”

And so he did, sweeping through my mouth like he fucking owned the joint, like he didn’t give a shit, right up until a throat cleared behind him.

“Hunter, sweetheart.” The woman sounded amused. “I don’t believe I’ve met yourfriend.”

Hunter groaned and stepped away with apology in his eyes. But he didn’t go far, taking my hand instead, a simple act that meant so much more.

The woman’s gaze dipped to our hands, flicked to Hunter’s groin, and then back up to his face, a smirk tugging at her lips. “I do hope I’m not interrupting?”

Hunter huffed. “You know damn well you are. Just as well I like you.”

She chuckled. “You love me, Hunter.Love.”

He grinned. “I do. Alec, this is Mel Levinson, friend and bane of my New York life. There isn’t a gay man in this city she hasn’t tried to set me up with. Mel is another Kiwi, although she’s lived here for about fifteen years. She and her partner own Melt, a boutique modelling agency.”

“Small but select,” she added. “Nice to meet you, Alec. I’ve seen your face around, by the way. Not to mention a commendable job at fashion week. You walked for Berlini.” Mel offered her hand and I shook it. She was about as big as a sparrow, with fine blond hair, huge green eyes, a killer grip, and a wicked smile.

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