Straight-Laced, Bent Over
MM Contemporary Romance
by Jace Wilder
Free with Kindle Unlimited
Pairing: MM
Heat: 🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️ Inferno
Tropes: Best Friends to Lovers, Bi Awakening, Roommates to Lovers, One Bed, Friends with Benefits, Forced Proximity, Praise Kink, Possessive Hero, Slow Burn, Touch Starved, He Falls First
His best friend is straight. His self-control is not.
Adam Keane keeps his life in perfect order: color-coded closet, labeled pantry, alarm at 5:45, gym by 6:15. He is controlled, competent, and quietly convinced that no one will ever find the real him desirable. His ex made sure of that.
Then his best friend’s apartment floods, and Trent Lawson moves in.
Trent is six-two of pure chaos: loud, charming, perpetually dusty from construction sites, and utterly oblivious to the fact that Adam has been in love with him for six years. He dates women. He cracks jokes. He sleeps on the couch like a starfish and leaves his boots wherever he stands. He is, by every available metric, straight.
Except the couch breaks. And they share a bed. And Trent starts noticing things about Adam he can’t explain away. The hands. The throat. The sound Adam makes when Trent rubs his shoulders. The way his own fantasies keep rewriting themselves around one specific man.
What starts as curiosity becomes a friends-with-benefits arrangement that neither of them can keep casual. The sex is frequent, filthy, and devastating. The feelings are worse. And when Adam demands the one thing Trent can’t give him — honesty, out loud, standing up — the arrangement detonates, and both men have to decide whether the most terrifying word in the English language is bisexual or I love you.
You’ll love this book if you enjoy:
✅ Best friends to lovers with a decade of pining
✅ “Straight” best friend bi awakening that earns every page
✅ Roommates + one bed + FWB-to-more trope stack
✅ Jealousy and possessiveness that does emotional work
✅ Explicit, frequent, escalating sex scenes (🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️ — graphic, detailed, emotional)
✅ A praise kink that heals a wound
✅ Dual POV with two completely distinct voices
✅ An HEA with a hardware-store ring and zero qualifiers
⚠️ Content Warning: This novel contains explicit sexual content (graphic MM scenes including oral, manual, penetrative sex, fingering, and praise/possessiveness dynamics), strong language, depictions of internalized biphobia, an emotionally manipulative ex referenced in backstory, and anxiety. Intended for readers 18+.
📖 Read Chapter One Free
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Chapter One
My alarm went off at 5:45 like it did every morning, and like every morning, I didn’t need it. I’d been awake since 5:38, staring at the ceiling, mentally running through the day’s schedule in the order it would happen because that’s what normal, well-adjusted people did at dawn on a Tuesday.
Gym by 6:15. Treadmill, then upper body, then core. Shower by 7:30 — six minutes, not seven, because seven meant I’d be four minutes late to the office and four minutes late meant the barista at Cornerstone would’ve already cycled to the next batch of cold brew and I’d get the dregs. Breakfast at my desk: overnight oats with exactly one tablespoon of almond butter, because I’d meal-prepped five containers on Sunday like someone who had his life together, or at the very least someone who had nothing better to do on a Sunday night.
I sat up, silenced the alarm I hadn’t needed, and surveyed my apartment in the gray pre-dawn light.
Everything was where it belonged. Shoes on the rack by the door, toes facing out. Kitchen spotless, single clean mug waiting by the coffee maker. Couch pillows arranged in the specific configuration that made the asymmetrical cushions look intentional instead of like a manufacturing defect I’d been too cheap to return. My closet was color-coded. My pantry was labeled. The towels in the bathroom were folded in thirds because folding in halves created an uneven stack and I refused to live with an uneven stack on a daily basis.
This was not, I was aware, universally considered charming.
The gym was three blocks away and half-empty at 6:15, which was the point. I didn’t go to the gym to socialize. I went to the gym to perform a series of controlled physical movements that gave me the illusion of authority over a body that otherwise just carried my brain to meetings.
I ran my usual three miles at a 7:40 pace, did the upper body circuit I’d been rotating for two years, crunched through a core sequence I’d found on a fitness app and optimized by removing anything that looked like it might draw attention. A man doing bicycle crunches alone in the corner of a gym at six in the morning is a man with a plan. A man doing burpees is a man performing for an audience that doesn’t exist.
Showered. Dressed. Navy slacks, white button-down, the gray cardigan that Megan once described as “aggressively celibate.” I looked at myself in the mirror — square glasses slightly crooked, hair still damp but neat, face that could generously be called “pleasant” — and made the same unconscious assessment I made every morning, which was that I looked like someone who would be very helpful during a tax audit and absolutely nowhere else.
The office was a twelve-minute walk. I timed it once and then couldn’t stop timing it, so now I knew that I averaged 12:07 with crosswalk delays and 11:43 without. The cold brew at Cornerstone was perfect — first batch, no dregs. Small victories.
My desk was the cleanest in the department because my desk was always the cleanest in the department. This was not a flex. This was a coping mechanism with organizational benefits.
“Morning, robot.” Megan dropped into the chair across from me, iced latte in hand, blazer over a dress that would’ve gotten her a second look at a gallery opening. She managed to be effortlessly stylish in a way that made my cardigan feel like an apology. “How was your weekend?”
“Productive.”
“Meaning?”
“I reorganized my spice rack.”
“The one that was already alphabetized?”
“It’s by cuisine type now. More efficient for actual cooking.”
She stared at me for a long beat. “Adam, and I ask this with love, when’s the last time you had sex?”
I pulled up a spreadsheet I didn’t need. “That’s a workplace-inappropriate question.”
“We’re friends. I’m asking as a friend. In the workplace. When?”
“Define sex.”
“Oh my god.”
“That’s not a definition.”
Want to keep reading? The full novel is available now.
🔥 Want an EXCLUSIVE Bonus Chapter?
The Hardware Store — Trent buys the ring. The real one. And the night he gives it to Adam is the hottest, most explicit scene in the entire series — a proposal, a celebration, and a christening of every surface in their new apartment.
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He poured the perfect latte. He didn't expect the man across the street to pour gasoline on everything he thought he knew about himself.
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