I'm now scouring his IMDB page for old Aussie movies to watch. I do enjoy a new movie crush! Here, you can enjoy him too:
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeZf-qcFFRpadGeqcXUelYrIy0noHZtG5-4qJp0bK9xCaM9OksuMNUfUo92o5WAn5HOGItrxRZmtVgECJ-Syb2UanDfFhGVIinuosEY_0WhFQ7s3KHSPeYNHwUqLgcf4vkf5IROcnBG0M/s400/sam_worthington.jpg)
© 2007 James Buchanan
Much thanks to Reb, Syd, CB, Nicole and SamC who gave me inspiration even if I couldn’t quite work in the snowmobile, stalker and nutcracker scenes.
“What are you doing?” An irritated, but cultured voice sounded behind Les. Backing it, the boisterous cheer of a holiday party cut the night. Part Christmas, part end of exams, and part wrap party for the local university’s production of A Christmas Carol throbbed full swing. Over indulgence hounded Les. Too much drinking with people he really didn’t care for. He needed the money, the college needed a sound tech… it was decent enough for a student job. And at least he didn’t have to pretend to be straight around theater geeks.
“Writing my name in the snow.” Les growled, glancing over his shoulder while tying not to get anything on his combat boots. Oh, Dear God, the questioner was wearing a Santa hat pushed back on his head. Blond curls poked out underneath. That was almost more Christmas cheer then Les could stomach.
Chad Mitchell stood staring at Les while he had his dick in his hand taking a piss. Dockers, button-down green, plaid shirt over a white t-shirt set off indignant blue eyes. “You could have used the bathroom inside.” Freckles dotted the bridge of his nose. His old style hunter’s coat couldn’t keep the frost from tinting sharp cheeks. Shit, Les cursed under his breath, accosted by an LL Bean catalog while taking a leak.
“Right.” Les tucked himself away and yanked up the fly of his black jeans. That done, he shoved his hands in the pockets for warmth and shouldered deeper into his army surplus Patton style jacket. “And stand in line with all those giggling girly things that can’t hold their beer? Much easier this way.”
For all of the bad taste, Les’ brain did a little stop-start routine when he turned full on. The first full-dress rehearsal, Les memorized each line and angle to Chad’s body. All and nothing was left to the imagination in the grey velvet and linen the costumers pulled together. Every time he saw Chad drift out to stage center in those tight Dickenson Era pants and cutaway coat, he had the same reaction. Chad was tall and not too bulky under layers of winter clothes. The line costume indicated a nice butt and sculpted body lurked underneath. In the darkness of the sound booth, Les wanked himself off while just watching Chad move. Thank God there weren’t many cues during Chad’s scenes.
Tight and proud, full lips crawled into a near sneer. “You just have to be that way, huh. All angsty and self righteous?” The blond actor tucked his own hands under his armpits.
It was Goddamn freezing out behind the house. Snow flurries fluttered down. One landed on the ring in Les’ nose and turned it to ice. He sneezed. Back, over a wool cloaked shoulder, fairy lights danced through an over wrought Christmas tree framed Currier and Ives style in the window. Fuck, Chad looked like a post card. Put a stamp on Chad and mail it to Les’ bedroom. Muted strains of the little drummer boy drifted around them.
“Always.” Les agreed. Cold seeped through waffle soles and Les hopped from one foot to the other trying to keep feeling in his toes. Blondie glared. “You theater jerks, so pompous. Man you guys suck.” He laughed. “Scrooge… repent, turn back before it’s too late.” Throwing as much over emphasis as he could into the line, Les teased. He draped his right arm before his eyes and threw his head back, “Don’t end up like me.”
Indignant, Chad’s lips went thin. “That’s not my line.”
Les waived it off. “Shit, you all take this college theater shit way to serious. Les,” he drew out his own name with a starlet’s falsetto, “my mic’s not right. How am ever going to emote correctly with this crappy sound system.”
Chad snorted. “I never said anything like that.”
“No.” It was Les’ turn to glare. “You didn’t even talk to me when I fitted you out for you wireless.”
Glancing off towards the house, Chad seemed embarrassed. “You didn’t seem like you wanted to talk with me during production.”
Les’ eyebrows crawled up. Running his tongue along the edge of his teeth, the little bar through the muscle clicked against enamel. “Why would you want to talk to someone like me when you’re surrounded by all those so cool people? What would all your artsy buddies think? Oh, look at Chad, he’s talking with the techie nerd.”
“Maybe ‘cause under all that black and attitude you’re kinda cute.” The look went from embarrassed to sly. “Even if you’re a gothed out computer geek with a good knowledge of sound systems.”
“Me?” Cute and Les rarely occurred in the same sentence.
“Yeah.” Chad looked back toward the house. A mix of desire and distasted flew across his face. Then he turned back to Les. “Wanna blow and grab some hot chocolate?”
“I don’t think they have any hot chocolate there.” Les shook a dusting of snow off his head. Crystals caught the light in Chad’s blue eyes.
“Neither do I.” Chad smiled. “But I know I have some at my place.”
Les laughed. Then he stepped in to Chad’s personal space. Suddenly all hard and tight and tense the other man almost drew away. Spicy cologne rose from his collar, wrapping Les’ senses in thoughts of mulled cider and fireplaces.
In his mind, he could see firelight tracing the edges of those sharp cheeks. Full lips responded to every kiss as Chad sighed and shuddered. So silken-hard and so demanding, Chad’s prick swelled in his hand. Both of them locked together as Les rammed into the tight, hot confines of Chad’s body. Frenzied, Chad rode him. Sweat sparkled across their skin… little jewels caught in the flames. They moaned. They called each other’s names. They drove each other until everything faded to two bodies trembling and shaking against each other.
Another laugh slipped past Les’ lips as he nipped Chad’s ear. “No you don’t, I drank it this morning.”
Added 12/22: Thank you to all who responded. All the talk about yummy food has really made me hungry-even this early in the morning. :P I hope everyone has a safe and wonderful Christmas season. See you in 2010!
WINNER: Congratulations Tam!
Also, orelukjp0 email me at marty (at) martyrayne (dot) com as I've chosen a second winner for my e-book A Gift Worth Sharing.
Merry Christmas!!!
How would you like to win two free downloads from my backlist? Just leave a comment here and a random winner will be drawn!
Amanda Kelsey of Razzle Dazzle Design just sent me my cover for GPS, the M/M short I wrote for All Romance eBooks' 28 Days of Heart. Looking at it alone is sure to send hearts pumping.
Blurbage: When Cale Durbin receives a GPS system for his birthday, he tests it out on the drive to meet a blind date. The blasted device gets him lost, but Cale doesn't mind so much when he ends up at the door of a hunk named Mike who shares many of his interests.
After the setup date fails, Cale discovers the GPS possesses a unique feature - it leads him right to Mike again! Can true happiness be found through a global positioning device, or is Cale headed in the wrong direction?
Proceeds from sales of GPS go to the American Heart Association, and it will be my third charity piece. You can still get All You Need... at ARe to benefit WHY, and in January I have a piece in the next Coming Together volume with Phaze Books!
When one thinks of the Seven Heavenly Virtues, hope, charity, faith, temperance, prudence, justice, and fortitude, and the Seven Deadly Sins, greed, sloth, anger, lust, gluttony, envy and pride, lessons in life come to mind. In 7, each Virtue and Sin is presented as a theme for a story, each one is explored, whether positive or negative, literal or figurative.
With a variety settings and styles, from courtesans on another planet to vampires of the Romanorum, from demons lusting after ghosts and a cat and dog chase of epic proportions, there's bound to be something for everyone. This fourteen-story collection comes from Mychael Black and Shayne Carmichael, the authors of The Prince's Angel and The Two Shall Become One.
***
The winner will receive a free copy of my new release from Cobblestone, Just a Game. Remember to leave your email! The end date is the 19th, 4 PM EST.
Bon chance, Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah *deep breath* and Happy New Year's!
EDIT: So I know I originally said winner (singular) but I've decided to do winner(s) instead because two of the stories just made me smile so wide.
The winners are.....*drumroll* N.C. Jenks and booklover0226! Winners, I'll be emailing you with your copies in just a second. Thanks for playing everyone. Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!
© 2008 James Buchanan
Rated: Explicit
Caesar stretched and yawned. One of those lazy Saturday mornings he and Nate got so few of. 'Course with both their habits it was more like noon, but still, wake up, screw around, doze, repeat. Pretty good way to blow a day.
Nate nuzzled into his armpit, tickling Caesar's skin with his tongue. "What time is it?"
Another yawn stretched his jaw wide as Caesar turned to look at the clock. "Once media, más o menos."
"We should get up and head out." The words had nothing to do with Nate's actions. Instead of rolling out of bed, Nate's hand wandered down to dance along Caesar's prick.
That was a much better idea than shucking the sheets. Caesar's dick began to swell in response to the delicious touch. "We should stay here," Caesar scooted down a bit so that he could reach Nate's fat prick, "and let me stroke you."
Nate kissed up his neck drawing a little trail of shivers along Caesar's skin. "Dinner's at two." He whispered it, blowing across the damp flesh. Another shudder hit Caesar's body.
"We got plenty of time then." He wrapped his fist around Nate's cock, pumping him up.
Nate hissed. "To make it to Porter Ranch?"
"To make you get off." Caesar kissed him. Nate tasted like mornings and sleep. Tasted damn good. He broke off for a second and added, "Make me get off." Then he was finished with talking.
He grabbed Nate's wrists as he drove his lips onto the other man's. Nate opened up, teased Caesar's tongue into his mouth. With a groan, Caesar rolled on top and pinned Nate's arms about his head. Took a bit of wrangling, but he got both Nate's wrists into one hand. Then he reached down and pushed both their shorts off their hips. A lot of struggling and wiggling, but Nate didn't fight him…or help him. Cabron.
With a grunt, stifled by Nate's kiss, Caesar thrust against Nate's groin. Nate stiffened and hissed. He tried to free his wrists, but Caesar used his now free hand to grab him before he could snake his own grip between them. If Nate didn't want to help before, he could just go along for the ride.
A really short ride.
Heat built quickly in Caesars groin. He humped Nate's hips, grinding them together. Nate moaned into their kiss, the sound vibrating down Caesar's spine. Nate bucked up adding his own frantic rhythm to the mix. That wonderful dick sliding against his; Caesar shuddered with every move. Slick pre-cum and sweat soon coated both of them adding wet heat to the friction.
Caesar broke from the kiss and buried his face into Nate's throat. Musk still clung to his skin from earlier that morning and a damp sheen soaked the hair on Nate's chest. Their exertions added another, more urgent and heady aroma. Caesar drowned in the scent of him.
Nate flexed his head back and mumbled, "Fuck, like that…just fuck." God he loved it when Nate babbled. It ratcheted his desire up to insane levels. A few more thrusts and Caesar lost it. Heat took him over, rolling through his frame in waves. Cum shot between them and coated both their bellies. Panting, shaking a little, Caesar collapsed onto Nate's chest. He released his grip on Nate's wrists and then smiled as Nate looped his arms over Caesar's back. So warm and wonderful being held in those big, muscled arms, Caesar could just die happy that way.
It took him a second to realize Nate hadn't cum. Caesar hauled himself up onto his hands, Nate's hands sliding down his arms, and stared down at Nate. Those blue eyes were just desperate. Caesar knew how to take care of that. Slowly, deliberately, he licked down Nate's chest and across his abs. His own spunk tasted almost sweet and mixed deliciously with the salty sweat coating Nate's body.
When he got to Nate's crotch, he inhaled deep. Everything was so much more heady and intense. Wrapping one fist around Nate's prick, Caesar moved to suck on his balls and stroked. That thick, almost silky, hard cock tickled his palm. Skin sliding over an iron hard core felt so sensual.
Nate grabbed behind his own knees, pulling them up and back, giving Caesar access to everything. Still stroking, Caesar twisted his head and sought out Nate's ass with his tongue. On top of all of it, Nate had a tang like warm copper. "Goddamn, please, fuck, yeah," echoed above him, signaling Nate's own impending blow. The flavor between Nate's cheeks tasted sexy, concentrated and so much of a guy that Caesar thought he might get it up again. He jacked Nate's prick with a strong, fast grasp and fucked his hole with his tongue. Nate shuddered. He moaned. And then Caesar smelled the spunk pumping from Nate's cock.
Satisfied, he laughed and clambered back up to snuggle against Nate's warm, solid body. Forget doing anything else, this satisfied him. Then Caesar's stomach growled. Well neither of them had eaten anything yet… and where and when they were eating was already planned. He muttered, "Please tell me your mom can cook," into the space behind Nate's ear.
"Of course she can cook." Nate shifted. "We should get going if we're going to make it on time."
The jangle of a dog tag against a Saint Frances medal caught Caesar's attention. Poncho must have wandered back inside. He whistled to call the little mutt, then asked, "So why are we doing Thanksgiving today?"
Nate sat up. "Because, every cop in the world wants time and a half plus bonus." He rolled his buffed shoulders and stretched.
First Ponchito's ears and eyes appeared at the foot of the bed. Then he stuck his nose over. Poncho'd learned that if he just jumped into the middle of the bed, he was liable to get tossed right back off…and possibly locked out of the room.
"What?"
"You get extra pay if you work holidays." Nate slapped Caesar's thigh, calling the dog up. "My dad always worked Thanksgiving and Christmas. I always work 'em too. Since I was little, we always had Thanksgiving dinner on the Saturday after." Poncho jumped up and minced across to flop between his two men. Nate scratched his ears and added, "Christmas presents got opened whenever my dad got off shift on Christmas Eve. My mom would wake us up at like three a.m. And New Years was spent watching the ball drop on TV with the police scanner playing in the background. Dad's retired now, but since I work the holidays, my family just keeps the tradition." Then he asked. "What does your family do?"
Caesar grabbed Poncho's ears. As he scratched them, Caesar bent over and rubbed his nose against the mutt's forehead. "Thanksgiving or the rest of it?"
"All of it."
"Thanksgiving wasn't much of anything." Poncho woofed and darted off the bed at that point. Probably was going to go find his lunch. "I mean, you sorta learn that this is what everyone in America is doing on their day off. But, you know, it’s a day off to party and eat…although my cousins were usually washing dishes at some restaurant or something. Mexicans, we party late though. Come in, go out, come back, keep it going all day."
"Yeah?" Nate's smile was big and open. Caesar loved it when Nate smiled.
"Yeah." Caesar stifled a yawn. "And Christmas. You go to church like at midnight and when you come back everyone opens up presents. And Santa comes while you're at church. Then everybody who's not working Christmas day goes to bed. New Years, party all night long. Course I was usually working all around the holidays."
"Construction?"
"No, dip shit," he smacked Nate's chest and rolled to the edge of the bed, "people are on vacation. Left and gone to grandma's in Main or Arizona or something."
Nate swung his feet off the mattress and stood. "Oh, that." He yawned as he stretched again.
Caesar deadpanned. "Oh, yeah, that."
With another stretch…Caesar suspected Nate was flexing just to show off for him… Nate padded towards the bathroom. "So your mom's coming, right?"
"Yeah, my mom and my Bro's family." Caesar sat up and ran his hands through his hair. "Nate, your dad doesn't like me, what's he going to do with my family?"
"It'll be fine." Nate paused and smiled over his shoulder. "Mom's told him he has to play nice." He waved off the thought like it really didn't matter. "When did you come out to your mom, by the way? Cause last I heard, you hadn't." He paused and turned, "Isn't that going to be a little awkward?" before heading into the bathroom.
"Mom, her English sucks." Caesar shrugged. "Angel and his wife, they already don't say anything. We don't talk about it with mom. So, should be okay, she won't understand half of it."
Nate's voice drifted out of the can. "My dad speaks Spanish, you know."
"If it's as bad as yours…if he says something about us, she'll just assume it's the whole language thing."
The room got real quiet, enough for Caesar to wonder if Nate hadn't heard him. Then, "Dad's is way better than mine."
Fuck. Caesar flopped back onto the bed and moaned, "It's going to be a disaster." Northridge earthquake quality disaster. Malibu Canyon fire quality disaster.
Nate leaned out of the bathroom and grinned, "Isn't that what holidays are supposed to be?"
eBook ($1.79) available at the following merchants:
ARe * Scribd * Kindle
Smashwords * 1Romance
Missed opportunities with unrequited love force drummer Keith Zander to hit the road on his motorcycle. With each mile ridden he hopes to dull the ache of the truth that his bandmate Nat may never be his. But when Nat and Kurt, the third in their trio and Nat's lover, track him down with a surprising revelation, will Keith return home or keep running?
(This story features explicit male on male encounters, and multiple partners.)
Read an Excerpt.
Nothing better than waking up to a story acceptance. A while back I submitted a short for inclusion in the All Romance 28 Days of Heart Campaign. This morning I learned my M/M short, GPS, was selected!
From the ARe page:
Beau Bradbury has it all. He’s good looking, owns a lucrative business, and has an endless supply of hunks vying for his attention. His skinny, uptight personal assistant shouldn’t rate a bleep on his radar. Nevertheless, there’s just something about Adam that Beau can’t resist.
One night of drunken passion leads to nearly a year of secret trysts during office hours. Adam keeps his private life confidential, while Beau pretends to want nothing more than a good time. It’s a good arrangement, until a simple phone call ruins the status quo and makes Beau green with envy.
Frustrated that Adam might be seeing someone else, Beau tries to put his attraction to the younger man behind him. However, all that changes with the introduction of Adam’s son. Instantly smitten with the sweet little boy, Beau is all the more driven to claim Adam for his own. All he has to do is convince his wary lover to open his heart and trust that there’s more to Beau than his playboy persona suggests.Beau Bradbury stared at his laptop, the last quarter’s earnings for Club Casbah slowly burning into his retinas. Glaring at them didn’t change the fact that memberships were on a downward swing. With the economy doing a nosedive, people just weren’t willing to splurge on expensive gentlemen’s clubs in order to get their rocks off. Something would have to be done if he wanted to stay in the black, but he wasn’t sure what. He certainly couldn’t raise the already exorbitant fees he was charging current members. That would only result in losing loyal customers who couldn’t afford the rate increase.
He refilled a highball glass with bourbon and swallowed the bitter brew, enjoying the heat that spread down his throat and crashed into his stomach. If there was ever a good time to get drunk, this certainly looked like the occasion.
Leaning back in his chair, Beau tried to think of some way to drum up business without losing his edge.
Casbah was known as an exclusive club, meaning he couldn’t promote a two-for-one deal without fucking up the club’s reputation. People didn’t pay good money for a club any Tom, Dick, or Harry could be admitted into at a moment’s notice.
After draining the glass, he topped it off yet again. A pleasant buzz built as he drank his fill. Thoughts of work circled around and around in an endless loop. With no easy solution in sight, his business woes slowly dissolved and were replaced by Beau’s favorite mental candy these days.
Adam Winger.
Having hired the young man as his personal assistant the month before, Beau was still on his best behavior around the guy. At twenty-one, Adam was a prime specimen of male virility. Twelve years older than Adam, Beau normally felt like a perverted chicken hawk for lusting after the younger man. At the moment, he just felt horny and in need of some TLC.
However, he had no intention of acting on his desire to fuck Adam’s pert little ass into next week. That didn’t mean he couldn’t think about it all he wanted, though. No one ever needed to know who he was fantasizing about on the rare occasions when he rubbed one out.
It wasn’t that he lacked for company so much as he was sick of the club scene. Taking care of his own needs was simpler than bringing someone home for the night, then having to kick them out the following morning. His taste in men invariably meant he chose the clingiest guy available, someone he’d have to pry out of his life with a crowbar, regardless of how quickly the other man had agreed to casual sex the night before.
Being a wealthy business owner had drawbacks as well as perks.
Those who weren’t swayed by his bank account would usually drop and spread ’em for his blond good looks or the body he religiously exercised. Single and in his thirties, Beau had no intention of letting an ounce of fat touch his short and stocky frame. If he weren’t careful, it would be too damn easy to go from solid to flabby.
Perish the thought. A fat ass wouldn’t catch the attention of anyone, regardless of how much I’m worth.
Beau closed his eyes. His mind flashed from one improper image to another. Adam taking advantage of Beau’s home gym, his pale skin glistening as he made use of the treadmill. Sweaty black curls clung to the sides of his heart-shaped face. Beau was half convinced the man’s tiny running shorts and nearly transparent tank tops were designed as punishment for horny, leering men of his ilk. Learning Adam dressed to the left, and had surprisingly large balls for a man his size, had been worth the torment.
Another image came of Adam decked out to the nines in a formfitting rented tux, his cheeks tinged with pink from all the compliments he’d received during the last party at the club. The coquettish looks and bashful blushing had only made Beau want to bend Adam over the nearest booth and fuck him all the more.
Beau palmed his cock through the slick fabric of his slacks. Christ, he ached. It’d been too long since he’d gotten laid. That was going to have to change. Soon.
A quiet knock sounded on the door, followed by Adam’s deep voice. “Boss?”
“It’s open.” Beau yanked his hand away from his dick and brushed his bangs out of his eyes. He hoped his face wasn’t as red as it felt.
Adam opened the door and then strode into the room carrying his laptop. His curls stuck up in spiky little ringlets, as if he’d been running his fingers through them. Dressed casually, Adam wore a pair of snug chinos and a faded black T-shirt. “Hey, I was just going through your calendar for this month, and it looks like you’re double booked for the thirtieth.”
Speak of the devil, and he appears. Beau blinked away his inner thoughts and stared at the man he’d been obsessing over for the last thirty-plus days. Already half-hard, his cock gave a tiny, happy jerk inside his pants. Why does Adam have to be so fucking adorable?
Beau coughed, trying to concentrate on what Adam was saying. Not an easy feat when his mind was busy translating everything into a subtle come-on. “Why don’t you switch the Adalgo appointment to the morning of the first and cancel my racquetball game with Mitch.”
There. I can do professional, even while half-baked.
A hint of wet pink tongue flashed over Adam’s lower lip as he stared down at his laptop. “That’ll work.”
Beau swallowed a groan.
Adam looked up, his deep brown eyes concerned. “Are you okay?”
Fuck. He hadn’t meant to make a noise. “Fine.”
“All right.” Adam closed his laptop. “Is there anything else you need from me tonight? It’s closing in on seven o’clock, and I’d like to call it a night.”
“No. I –” Beau’s gaze lowered to Adam’s mouth while the younger man licked his lips and made the plump, rosy flesh glisten.
Beau’s control snapped like a dry leaf. Fuck it. “There is something I need from you.”
“Oh?”
Beau got up, his legs a little unsteady beneath him, and advanced toward Adam. “I need you to stop batting your lashes and undressing me with your eyes. If I see you lick your lips in my direction one more time, you’d better make damn sure you’re willing to back up the move with some action.”
Adam took a step backward. “I…I don’t know what you mean, sir.”
“Don’t you?” Beau snatched the laptop out of Adam’s hands and set it on his desk. “I’ve seen the way you look at me when you don’t think I’m paying attention. You want me. I know you do. Even if you’re too chickenshit to admit it.”
Adam’s eyes widened, his chest rising and falling faster. “If that were true, and I’m not saying it is, I still wouldn’t act on it.”
“Why?” Logically, Beau knew all the reasons. They no longer mattered. Lust overruled common sense and fueled his need to claim Adam in the most basic, intimate way possible.
“I work for you. Isn’t that explanation enough?”
“No.” Beau caught Adam’s chin and tilted it up. Without giving Adam a chance to pull away, Beau swooped in and caught the younger man’s mouth with his own. Adam’s lips were firm yet soft, the lower one providing just enough cushion for the brute force behind Beau’s kiss.
Adam gasped and parted his lips, providing just enough space for Beau to take advantage. He slid his tongue into Adam’s mouth and explored, caressing and teasing as he got his first taste. Adam’s mouth was flavored with the French vanilla coffee he favored. A hint of a darker, infinitely richer tang lingered beneath, prompting Beau to keep kissing, to keep savoring, until he could figure out precisely what that unidentifiable zest was.
Meanwhile he palmed Adam’s cheek, the skin hot and prickly under his hand, and buried his fingers in the soft black curls he’d been dying to touch since the first time he’d laid eyes on the younger man.
Adam’s reluctance slowly vanished. His mouth became more pliant, his tongue more daring. His hands fisted in Beau’s shirt and tugged him closer, returning Beau’s aggression tenfold.
Beau lost himself in the taste of Adam’s lips and the feel of the younger man pressing against him. Although Adam was an inch or so taller than Beau, his slighter build felt good in Beau’s arms. Right.
Beau’s pulse thundered in his ears, blood racing from one head to the other. He would’ve liked to go on kissing Adam forever, but his body had other, more pressing desires. All he needed was to hear Adam say he wanted this just as much Beau did, and then he’d give in to his desire to get the younger man naked. He yearned to press against Adam, skin to skin, and explore every inch of the sweet body he’d been fantasizing about for so long.
Panting, Beau tore his mouth away from the soft cushion of Adam’s lips. “Say it.”
Adam lifted his eyes and stared at Beau. “Huh?”
“Tell me you want me. I need to hear you say it before this goes any further.”
“I –” Adam swallowed…