Page 2 of Xtasy

Atlas popped a bite of General Tso’s chicken into his mouth. “Don’t be ridiculous, Meggie. I just joined a new gym the other day. I’m all over the wild side of life right now, taking it by storm, some might even suggest.”

Megan rolled her eyes. “It’s not a new gym, fuck-face. It’s your old gym, they just changed the name when new owners took over.”

“Clearly, you are exaggerating the boringness of my life,” Atlas snapped playfully. Regardless of what Meggie said, he couldn’t stay mad at her long. Anyway, she might be telling the truth. He would spend the rest of the week charting his days for comparison. Perfect plan.

****

Seven days later, Atlas determined he was, hands-down, the biggest bore in the world. Predictable. There were dog owners on his running track that swore their dogs wouldn’t leave until he came by to pet them…and give them one of the dog biscuits he always carried in his pockets. Just to hurt him, they had to mention that they always knew exactly when he would be there because he was so punctual with his time. Fuckers—the owners, not the dogs. The girl at the coffee shop always had his latte ready when he walked in the door each and every morning. He could work from home but chose to go into the office most days. It helped him concentrate and stay focused on his designs. His scheduled work hours began at nine in the morning and ended at five in the afternoon. Because he didn’t like to rush, he made it a habit to arrive thirty minutes early. The past week taught him that his boss now expected him to be there at eight-thirty instead of nine…or working from home. Every morning his boss handed him other people’s projects that hadn’t been completed.

Yes, his life sucked and he was tired of it. Changes were going to be made. Big fucking changes. Scary changes. Challenging changes. Bad ass changes.

****

Atlas stared at the massive structure before him. It looked like some sort of old textile mill—huge, brick, bunches of windows…with bars on them. No windows were broken out, so he guessed that was a positive sign. Looked to be about four stories high. It wasn’t located in the safest neighborhood, so that was a negative sign.Was he really going to do this? A model, he was not. Determined to make a change…he was.

Before he could talk himself out of it, he strode to the big metal door and pounded on it. Was he terrified? Yes. Was he determined? Hell, yes. Goodbye comfort zone. Hello to the new Atlas Mosley. He pounded on the door again. It was the right address. He’d circled the block three times—checking, double-checking, and triple-checking. Shit, had Meggie gotten him mixed up with some serial killer? Just a random ad looking for men for nude pics? No, it wasn’t that. She’d mentioned he’d had two gallery releases.That made everything safe, right?

The heavy door swung open and an absolutely drop-dead gorgeous, muscle bound, tattoo covered, blue eyed man stood there…scowling at Atlas. The dude’s brown hair was pulled back in a messy bun, loose strands dangling around his chiseled face. Atlas wanted to speak, say anything to make the delicious man in front of him smile, but he remained utterly gobsmacked. Before he could stop himself, he leaned in for a smell. Holy shit—all man. A bit of sweat mixed with an enticing cologne. He was wearing some baggy sweats that left absolutely nothing to the imagination. The mystery man was packing.

“Well, cutie, you were banging down my door like there was an emergency out here. Now you are all frozen up. What can I help you with?” He glanced around outside and added, “I think you must be lost.”

“Oh. No. Not lost. I don’t think I’m lost.” Like a total dork, Atlas held up the audition paperwork that Megan had left lying on the coffee table. “I wanted to…you know…apply for the job.” Atlas wasn’t certain when he started stuttering, but stuttering he was. Stuttering impressed everybody, right? He also noticed his stupid hand was shaking as he held the paper in front of Mr. Tall Dark and Deadly.

“Sorry, kid. We sent out cancellations to all the local agencies.” He frowned. “Where did you get this and what agency are you with? I haven’t seen you around. They should have informed you of the cancellation.”

Agency? Oh, shit. Atlas snatched the paper back. “This was a mistake. I’m sorry I bothered you.” He felt his face glowing bright red. He’d sell his soul to Satan for the opportunity to simply melt into the concrete beneath his feet.

“Send him up, Hawk! I think he might work for my project!” Another male voice called from somewhere above them.

Atlas looked up to see yet another gorgeous, half-naked man leaning over some decorative iron railing that separated the ground floor from a loft on the second floor. He wasn’t as muscular as the man standing in front of Atlas but still perfect in his own way. Beside the dude next to him, Atlas felt like a dainty fairy…not a good feeling. He’d ran track and excelled on the swim team in high school and college. He wasn’t dainty…yet he was now.

“Well, it looks like it’s your lucky day, kid. You are definitely gorgeous—Ambrose’s type, for certain. You interested in hearing what he’s looking for?”

“Stop calling me kid,” Atlas growled. “And, no, I’m not interested.”

“Really? You look interested.” The man’s eyes traveled down to rest of Atlas’ crotch area. Atlas could feel his cock pressing against his pants. Yup, there was no hiding hisinterest.

This was it. That moment in a person’s life where they knew for certain that whatever decision they made, it would change everything forever. He could walk away and go back to the stable, but boring, life he knew and was comfortable with. Slow and steady, that was his normal way of operation. Or he could step out of his zone and try something new. Something exciting. Then again, like he’d thought earlier, these men could be serial killers.

“Listen, kid. I’m going to go around and open the garage door. No vehicle is safe on these streets, especially a yuppie Prius. Some of the people around here would destroy it just for shits and giggles. If you want to see what my client is offering, drive your car in, get out, and listen to his sales pitch. If not, get in your car and drive back to whatever white picket fence house you came from. It's your call.” The guy looked Atlas up and down. “It just seems to me that white picket fences are an awful waste for a body as delicious as yours.”

“There’s no need to be such an ass about it,” Atlas growled. “And I told you not to call me kid.”

Hawk laughed. “Then prove you’re a man.”

The door closed in Atlas’ face before he could respond…as if he could have come up with a snappy response. Fucker. He stomped toward his car, climbed in, screamed a few cuss words, and then started some breathing exercises to calm himself down. How in the world had he let Meg manipulate him into doing something so ridiculously out of his norm? He’d made a fool of himself—so damn bad that his face still burned with shame. He could just imagine the two hot men inside, laughing at him for even thinking he could pull off modeling—showing up like a fool without an agent.How was he supposed to know agents were required?

Atlas pushed the button to start his car…at the same time that a huge garage door on the far side of the manufacturing plant slid open. Well, maybe they weren’t laughing at him. Or maybe they were. Shit, he felt like a cat trying to decide whether to go outside or come inside, or outside, or inside.

His decision was made when Mr. Hottie Hawk stepped out and propped his hands on his hips, causing the sweats to dip even lower. Atlas wasn’t certain there was a word in the dictionary to describe how incredibly hot the guy was. He put his foot on the gas and edged his way into the garage. The door closed behind his car, locking him inside.

When Atlas stepped out of his car, he realized it wasn’t really a garage. The bottom floor of the old manufacturing building was wide open. There was some workout equipment at the far end of the room. In the middle was a huge television hanging on a wall, with a giant leather sectional around it. To the side of that was a bar that would put any local club to shame. What he could see was impressive, but nothing compared to the vehicles littered about on the side where he stood. He didn’t have to be a motorcycle expert to recognize that the three parked in the garage were top shelf. There was also a Hummer, a Mercedes convertible, and a Rolls Royce.

“The Rolls belongs to Ambrose. I wouldn’t be caught dead in such a pretentious car.” Hawk whispered in his ear. Atlas jumped two feet in the air.How the fuck did he get so close to him without him knowing it?

When he gained his composure, or what was left of it, Atlas answered, “I’m pretty certain all the vehicles in here are pretentious.”

Hawk peered over his shoulder at the Prius and said, “Not all of them. Little man, we’ve got to get you a better ride. Isn’t that a middle-aged person’s choice of vehicle you’re driving?”

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