PASSION'S VICTORY
Micah Souther is
young, talented, and gay. As the junior owner of the family business, he knows
better than to look for love “on the clock.”
Jonas Chadwick is
the new guy at the firm. Older, wiser, and a survivor of the school of hard knocks,
he’s not in the market for an office romance, even if he learns for certain his
young boss is gay.
One kiss is all it
takes to send Micah and Jonas on a collision course, and when bodies collide,
the friction gets hot...
EXCERPT
... My pulse pounded
loudly in my ears and my cock rose, anticipating something I knew wasn’t a
certainty. He’d come back, but for what? His warm lips found mine, seeking
permission. I opened to him, inviting him to plunder at will. He did, thrusting
his tongue into my mouth. I met him eagerly, hungrily. I wanted this, and more.
Jonas’ strong fingers encircled
my wrist as he lifted my arm above my head to body pin me, full length, against
my front door. He pressed the hard ridge of his erection firmly to mine. I
reached for him with my free hand, wanting to feel his length and girth, but he
grabbed that wrist, too, and lifted it beside the other. I bucked against him,
totally turned on by the aggression I sensed in him.
“Be still,” he growled in my ear.
He trailed kisses down my neck, even as his grip tightened. I struggled to
break free of the vise grip he had on my wrists.
His pelvis ground against mine. I
tilted my head and delved into the heat of his mouth. I moaned. He moaned. I
wanted my hands free in the worst way. I needed to touch him, caress the
sensitive, silky skin I knew sheathed his penis. I ached to feel his lips on my
cock.
I threw my weight forward,
desperate to force him to take a step back. It worked and I quickly spun him
around and pinned him with my body. He grunted as he came in contact with the
door and his lips bowed beneath mine. His strong fingers released my hands, and
I reached for him, gathering him to me. His muscled thigh slipped between mine
and applied upward pressure on my balls. Instead of worrying about injury I
pressed down, reveling in the tingling sensation.
“Jonas,” I murmured against his
smiling lips. “Talk to…” His tongue flicked to mine, cutting off my request for
a moment of conversation.
Any of my neighbors watching were
getting quite a sideshow. I shoved my hand in my pocket, fumbling for my keys.
They fell from my shaking fingers to the porch decking. Jonas pushed me back,
breaking physical contact. I longed to see his eyes, to get some idea of what
he thought, what he felt.
“Bend over and pick them up,” he
said cheerfully as he rubbed my nipple.
I stared at him and tried to
catch my breath. “Not in front of you, Chadwick. I know all about men like
you.”
“Do you?” Something rough and
dark in his voice gave me pause. What demon did he battle?
“I know enough.” I pushed him
back against the side of the house, not with some little force. “Why did you
come back?”
“I don’t know. Maybe to satisfy
my curiosity.”
“Bullshit.” I fisted my hands in
his shirt and gave him a shake. “We take this inside, make it private, or we’re
done here.”
Jonas stared at me for the
longest twenty seconds of my life, then he nodded. I released him and he bent
over, snagged my keys, and dropped them into my outstretched palm. I unlocked
the door and invited the devil into my home for the second time in one day.
“I need a drink. Do you want one,
Jonas?” I needed to haul him into my bedroom and have my way with him, that’s
what I needed. My insides quivered. I shivered despite the warm evening.
But I knew, to my sorrow, that
quickie sex now would be a mistake, and I bet he knew it, too.
“I’ll take a brandy, if you have
it.”
“I hope you’ll settle for
bourbon.”
I poured us each a generous shot
and handed him one. He nodded and tossed it back like a pro. I followed suit,
and we set our empties down on the counter in unison. Jonas reached for me
again. I lifted my chin and stared him down. His hand dropped to his side.
I wanted him. God, how I wanted
him. I ached with it. His gaze met mine before flicking down to the bulge in my
pants and back up.
“Looks nice.”
“It’s a sock,” I told him
cheerily, in the same tone that he’d used to tell me to bend over.
“Hmm. Well, that’s the risk we
run, isn’t it?”
I snorted. “Ya think?” I went to
check his package, and he moved away.
“Shy?” I hardly thought shyness
to be a problem for him given his examination of my tonsils with his tongue.
“Let’s just say I’m cautious.”
