You were just dropping off a folder.

Aaron had left it on the kitchen counter that morning, too caught up in his black coffee and bad attitude to remember something as mundane as paperwork. You, helpful and maybe a little hopelessly gone, offered to swing by the studio and deliver it.

You thought it was a photoshoot for something boring—like a magazine feature or a watch ad. Nothing dangerous.

The doors slide open.

And you see him.

Aaron Warner, lit from above, the warm glow cascading over bare skin and sharp lines. He’s standing there in nothing but a pair of fitted, black Calvin Klein briefs, the waistband hugging low across his hips—unreasonably low. He’s turned slightly, talking to someone on set, completely unaware you’ve arrived.

Your eyes drop without your permission.

You see the tattoo inked along one side: hell is empty and all the devils are here.

It draws the eye. But so does everything else.

The subtle ridge of his abs, the way the muscles shift beneath his skin, and the unmistakable way those boxers fit him—snug. Formed. Deliberate. You blink, drag your gaze upward like it’ll save you—but it doesn’t help.

You feel like combusting.

He turns and spots you.

There’s a flicker of surprise, then something worse: a slow, knowing smile.

“I thought you’d come later,” Aaron says smoothly, stepping toward you without a hint of shame.

“I—” You hold out the folder like a shield. “You forgot this.”

He takes it, barely looking down. His eyes never leave yours. “Thank you.”

Your gaze betrays you again—flickering back down to the waistband, the way his fingers briefly brush the edge as he shifts the folder. You look away too late.

He saw.

He definitely saw.

“This isn’t what I thought the shoot was,” you murmur, half-mortified.

“No?” he says, voice rich with amusement. “What did you think it was?”

“A... fragrance. Or a feature on combat training. Something with jackets. Or... pants.”

That earns a real laugh. Warm. Deep. Unfair.

You take another step back, trying to recover. “I should go.”

“You can stay,” he offers lightly, a glint in his eye. “Might be... educational.”