Not a single mark on his upper body, though. Just pale, soft-looking skin.

I swallowed hard.

Camden Adair wasn’t my usual type, but there was something intoxicating about that boy. It was the mixture of sweet innocence and attitude. I saw it in his eyes every damn week.

And I was staring.

I cleared my throat and closed the fridge again.

But before I could say something, King was back. He opened the door and strode in with two large bags that he set on the kitchen island.

“There you are, darlin’. Did you get to introduce yourself to your latest favorite New Yorker?”

Camden laughed and walked toward me. “I was just about to. Hi, Mr. Fender. I’m Camden.” He stuck out his hand.

I managed to snap out of my state, and I grasped his hand. “It’s Anthony. Nice to meet you in person.”

“You too!”

Just as I was about to break the handshake, I dropped my gaze to his hand and instinctively tightened my grip. You gotta be fucking kidding me. I clenched my jaw. There was a tattoo of a small snake slithering up his thumb.

I released his hand quickly and took a couple steps back. He was peering up at me with curiosity and…something else.

Was it him?

“Did you find anythin’ to drink, Anthony?” King asked.

I ignored how my heart was suddenly pounding furiously, and I forced myself to turn away from Camden. King was safer. He was busy unloading groceries onto the counter.

“Ah—no. I was thinking. With introductions out of the way, perhaps it’s best if I head over to my motel and return tonight. I don’t wanna interrupt whatever you’re—”

“But you just got here,” Camden protested. “I wanna know everything about the Fender Initiative.”

I side-eyed him. At least those words brought me some relief. Music was a topic I didn’t have to worry about, and it made perfect sense if he had an interest in playing an instrument and wanted to discuss that. What didn’t make sense, however, was the possibility of Camden calling me hot behind an anonymous BDSM account on Instagram.

Because if he was the guy who’d followed me and liked several of my photos, I’d just walked into some kinky dynamic that was none of my business.

“It’s your choice, of course. I understand you must be exhausted,” King said patiently. “But you’re not interruptin’ anythin’. My only plan is to throw the meat for tonight in marinade and park my ass on the patio with a beer.”

“It’s settled, then!” Camden said triumphantly. Then he legit grabbed my arm and tried to drag me toward the patio. Emphasis on tried. He didn’t pack a whole lot of strength in his perfect little body.

His behavior wasn’t very reassuring either, because he reminded me of the unfiltered glimpses I’d seen of my buddy Moshe.