Page 13 of Bitter When He Begs

“This is what we’re working with?” I ask, stepping inside, already scanning what needs adjusting.

“Yeah.” Roman grabs a coil of cables, tossing them to the floor. “I’ve got an assignment due and don’t have time to fuck around with this shit.”

I nod, rolling up my sleeves. “No problem. Shouldn’t take long.”

And that’s supposed to be it. Just me and Roman, getting shit done, fixing the lighting, making sure the camera setup is solid… until the door swings open again.

I look up and immediately wish I hadn’t.

I freeze and the cables slip through my fingers when Luca fucking Devereaux strolls in like he owns the place—because he does, in a way, doesn’t he? He owns every fucking room he walks into.

But right now, he’s shirtless.

And sweaty.

And drinking from a water bottle like he isn’t a goddamn menace to my sanity.

How the actual FUCK did I forget he stays here, too?

He tilts his head back, throat working as he swallows, water dripping down his chest, sliding over sharp collar bones and solid muscle. His sweatpants hang low on his hips, abs flexing as he wipes the back of his hand over his mouth, completely oblivious to the way I have apparently fucking forgotten how to function as a human being.

For a second, I forget how to move and how to breathe because, of course, he looks likethat.

Of course his abs are cut.

Of course his shoulders are broad and unfairly defined.

Andof coursehis V-line disappears under his waistband like some cruel joke at my expense.

I’m gonna fucking die.

Roman doesn’t react, too focused on the camera, but Luca sees me. He doesn’t say anything, just tips his head slightly, his lips curving into that slow, lazy smirk I hate. That knowing smirk, the one that says, “I know exactly what you’re thinking, Sunshine.”

And that snaps me the fuck out of it.

I rip my eyes away, turning to the tripod like it’s the most interesting thing I’ve ever seen in my life, adjusting knobs that don’t even need adjusting just to have something to do with my hands.

Roman, completely unfazed, tosses a glance at him. “You done in there?”

Out of the corner of my eyes, I see Luca rolling his shoulders and stretching his arms behind his head. I swear to God, I almost fucking whimper.

“Yeah. Liam’s got the weights now, but Ryan says to hurry the fuck up because he’s next,” he says easily, cracking his neck before leaning against the doorframe like he’s got nowhere else to be. His eyes flick to me, his smirk immediate. “Didn’t know we had company.”

Roman grunts, barely glancing up as he gestures between us. “Sage is helping me fix my dumbass audio setup, so try not to distract him.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Luca murmurs, except he’s already dropping onto the couch across from us, stretching out like he knows he’s a fucking problem.

I focus harder on the camera, adjusting the settings, pretending like I don’t feel his eyes on me.

“You good, Sunshine?”

I freeze and slowly lift my head, glaring at the menace to my mental health. “What did I say about that nickname?”

Luca grins. “You said not to call you that.”

“Exactly.”

He shrugs, stretching his arms over the back of the couch, his abs flexing in the process, and I want to throw something at him. “Don’t see the problem.”

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