Fever Pitch (33 page)

About the Author

Heidi Cullinan has always loved a good love story, provided it has a happy ending. She enjoys writing across many genres but loves above all to write happy, romantic endings for LGBT characters because there just aren't enough of those stories out there. When Heidi isn't writing, she enjoys cooking, reading, knitting, listening to music and watching television with her husband and ten-year-old daughter. Heidi is a vocal advocate for LGBT rights and is proud to be from the first Midwestern state with full marriage equality. Find out more about Heidi, including her social networks, at
www.heidicullinan.com
.

Look for these titles by Heidi Cullinan

Now Available:

A Private Gentleman

Family Man (with Marie Sexton)

Minnesota Christmas

Let it Snow

Love Lessons

Love Lessons

Special Delivery

Special Delivery

Double Blind

Tough Love

Coming Soon:

Minnesota Christmas

Sleigh Ride

Carry the Ocean

Love doesn't come with a syllabus.

Love Lessons

© 2013 Heidi Cullinan

Kelly Davidson has waited what seems like forever to graduate high school and get out of his small-minded, small town. But when he arrives at Hope University, he quickly realizes finding his Prince Charming isn't so easy. Everyone here is already out. In fact, Kelly could be the only virgin on campus.

Worst of all, he's landed the charming, handsome, gay campus Casanova as a roommate, whose bed might as well be equipped with a revolving door.

Walter Lucas doesn't believe in storybook love. Everyone is better off having as much fun as possible with as many people as possible…except his shy, sad little sack of a roommate is seriously screwing up his world view.

As Walter sets out to lure Kelly out of his shell, staying just friends is harder than he anticipated. He discovers love is a crash course in determination. To make the grade, he'll have to finally show up for class…and overcome his own private fear that love was never meant to last.

Warning: This story contains lingering glances, milder than usual sexual content for this author, and a steamy dance-floor kiss. Story has no dairy or egg content, but may contain almonds.

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Love Lessons:

Walter filled a glass and handed it to Kelly. “Drink this and stop looking so nervous.”

“It's just weird. We're the only guys here.”

“Oh, more will show up. Trust me. Not our kind, though.” He linked Kelly's arm through his. “Let's go find the music. I like dancing with lesbians.”

Kelly thought at first that was either a joke or a euphemism for something, but it turned out Walter meant that comment literally. No sooner did he have Kelly set up with a trio of not-that-drunk (and not making out, thank God) girls on a sofa, he disappeared into the middle of the room, where he began dancing with an abandon Kelly hadn't ever seen him exhibit, not at Moe's, not anywhere. Kelly watched Walter move, transfixed.

“He's so cute.” The girl next to Kelly—Tricia, Kelly thought her name was—leaned her head on Kelly's shoulder and smiled as Walter shimmied behind a laughing girl who moved in sync with him. “Except he's gay, dammit.”

“And you're a lesbian,” the girl on her other side said, and they all laughed.

Kelly felt dazed. God, Walter just…
moved
. For a long time Walter danced and Kelly watched him, sometimes talking to the girls who sat next to him—they kept getting up and new ones sat in their places—and then after about a half hour, as a song ended, Walter came over, sweat-soaked, and collapsed next to Kelly.

“Shit.” He laughed, relaxed and happy, and he glanced at Kelly's glass. “You need another?”

Kelly peered into his cup. It was empty. Huh. That would explain why he felt buzzy.

Walter popped back to his feet with a wink. “Be right back,” he said, and he was, with a new glass for Kelly and another bottle of water for himself. He was about to sit down when a girl grabbed him and hauled him back onto the floor.

Kelly had half a minute to observe them, that odd feeling of longing stirring in him again, and then someone grabbed
his
arm too.

He danced stiffly at first, but soon the wine and the gentle teasing of his partner relaxed him, and he began to loosen up. It
was
fun to dance with a bunch of lesbians or nearly lesbians, because yeah, nobody gave a shit about what he looked like or how badly he danced. Even when a girl with shock-red hair plastered herself tight against him, her tits mashed to his chest and his—limp—cock squashed along her thigh, it was so clear neither of them were turned on
at all
, and as such they could both let go and act like total sluts. Laughing, he tossed up his hands and danced. Someone handed him another drink, this one smelling tart and intense, but he drank it anyway.

He was having
fun
. So much fucking
fun
.

When he heard the familiar thumping beats of “Wild Ones” begin to play—they'd finally picked his iPod, apparently—he gave a hearty
woot
and threw himself into his boogie with an abandon he didn't know he had in him. Somehow he'd become the center of a circle—he could see the straight boys now, mingled in amidst the girls, all of them looking slightly lost and out of place, and it was funny so he laughed. Hands slid down his arms, making him shiver, and as someone pressed against his back, he caught the familiar scent of cologne.

Walter's thumb brushed Kelly's wrist. “You're having a good time.”

“Yeah.” Kelly tried to smile over his shoulder, but Walter's hand skimmed his hip, and he jerked, glad Walter couldn't feel the sudden erection that sprang up at the contact.

Walter gripped Kelly's hip more firmly, holding him in place. “Hey—it's just me, goofball. What, you can't dance with me the way you were dancing with Sally?”

No, Kelly couldn't. Except as Sia's voice boomed out over the room and Walter led him into a sway, Kelly started to wonder if maybe he could.
It's just dancing,
he told himself. Because the truth was, he did want to dance with his roommate. He wanted Walter to dance with him the way he'd been dancing with the girls, and Kelly wanted to let go enough to be the way he'd been with his own partners. He wanted to be able to feel that relaxed with Walter.

He couldn't do that, though, because then Walter would know. Hell, he'd feel, because even
this
subtle contact had Kelly hard as a rock.

“Hush.” Walter's lips grazed his ear, making Kelly shiver. That made Walter laugh, though not unkindly. “Is that it? You're being self-conscious because I'm turning you on?” When Kelly said nothing, Walter snorted and pulled Kelly against his body.

Kelly shuddered.
Hard
—Walter was as hard as Kelly was. “Walter,” he croaked, his entire body turning to jelly. Except his screaming dick.

Walter kept them moving, his touches gentling, soothing, even as they kept in time to the beat. “Babe, it's fine. We're both guys. We both like guys. We're both hot, so we get turned on by each other. Big deal. You don't have to be embarrassed about it.”

He turned Walter on? He was a hot guy? Kelly angled his head around, needing to see Walter's face.

Walter looped his arms around Kelly's neck and shook his head. “Oh, Red. You're precious, you know that?”

No, Kelly didn't. “You confuse me,” he confessed, because he'd had too much to drink.

Walter laughed, but it wasn't a mean laugh, not at all. “
You
confuse you, Red. Turn your head off for ten minutes and dance with me. I don't care if you come in your pants. Just let go for ten fucking minutes.”

Kelly's whole body felt hot. “I can't do that. Not with you.”

“You can't flirt with me?” Walter gave him a
come on
look. “Red. You can
totally
flirt with me.”

Wait,
what
? Kelly shook his head, trying to clear it.

Walter sighed and began to speak in the tone of someone teaching a child something simple that they'd made complicated. “Walk it through, babe. You're tipsy. You're turned on. You're having a good time, and it feels good to be turned on. You're at a party full of lesbians, and me. Is there anyone here you're going to let take you to bed tonight?”

“What?
No
.” It came out so automatically he couldn't stop it, but rather than be upset, Walter seemed to be waiting patiently for Kelly to figure something out. Kelly frowned, still not getting it.

Walter rolled his eyes, but he laughed too. “Jesus. Red—you can flirt with me, you can do whatever you want, because we're not sleeping together. So stop worrying about it. Just have a good time.”

The music slipped into the chorus, and Walter dragged Kelly bodily back into the dance. He forgot to be upset or confused or anything else, and within a few bars he was moving in time to the beat with his roommate, brazenly sliding his arms around Walter's body. He tried to stay loose, to not think about how hot Walter made him, how bad that was.
We're not going to sleep together
kept ringing in his head, though, annoying him.

The music shifted to Pink's “Raise Your Glass”, and the room erupted in drunk, enthusiastic people singing and dancing along.

Most of the girls jumped up and down and did some drunken version of headbanging while they belted out the chorus, but Walter kept tight hold of Kelly and pulled him close, alternating between sensual thrusts with his thigh into Kelly's groin and shimmying them in deep dips that nearly ran them into their neighbors. Kelly could feel Walter's hard cock against his hip, and he knew Walter could feel his erection too. He could smell Walter's sweat, could sometimes taste it on his tongue. The wine and whatever else he'd been drinking filled his head, heightening his senses, making him think he could
feel
Walter on his tongue.

Suddenly he wanted to. He really, really wanted to.

Raise your glass,
the room shouted as one, Walter too, his shout reverberating in his chest beneath Kelly's hands.

Kelly shut his eyes, drew in a sharp breath through his nostrils and buried his face in Walter's neck.

He thrilled when Walter stilled, and he laughed, the sound rolling in his belly before he opened his lips over the throbbing pulse and sucked. Walter gasped, his knees wobbling, and his hands tightened against Kelly's hair and waist.

Running his tongue along Walter's skin, Kelly felt his cock pulse inside his jeans at the sharp, salty taste of his roommate's skin.

Walter jerked and tried to pull away.
Fuck no,
Kelly thought, and turned his grip into a vise. He stopped kissing Walter's neck, but he nipped at his jaw, heady at the thrill of making
Walter
the awkward one for once.

“Stop thinking,” he murmured, and ran his tongue along Walter's stubble.

“Jesus.” Walter sounded shattered. He turned his head, and for a second their mouths almost brushed together. Walter kept that from happening, pulling Kelly's head away from his own mouth. “Kelly, don't.”

The refusal shafted Kelly, and all the self-consciousness alcohol had kept at bay returned in a tidal wave. “You drive me crazy,” he said to Walter's chest, because he couldn't look him in the eye.

“Sweetheart, you're drunk. Like, really drunk. If I let you do what you're doing, you'll hate me tomorrow, and I'm not going there.”

Some distant, wine-slogged part of Kelly acknowledged Walter was right, but that didn't mean Kelly liked hearing it. “You think I'm a stupid dumb kid.” He just wanted Walter to kiss him, to push him onto the couch and…do stuff.

Walter drew Kelly in close and kissed his hair. “I don't think you're stupid. Or dumb. Or a kid.”

Could he stop being so reasonable and nice for a second? Kelly sank against his shoulder defeated. “I'm so confused.”

“I know, baby.”

Walter was stroking Kelly's back, and his butt, and it felt so fucking good. “I want you to fuck me,” he whispered.

Though Walter stilled, he didn't let Kelly go. “I want to fuck you too, baby,” he said at last. “But we can't.”

To remake their future, they'll have to use pieces of their broken past.

Bad Influence

© 2014 K.A. Mitchell

Bad in Baltimore, Book 4

The young man the world knew as Jordan Barnett is dead, killed as much by the rejection of his first love at his moment of greatest need, as by his ultra-conservative parents' effort to deprogram the gay away.

In his place is Silver, a streetwise survivor who's spent the last three years learning to become untouchable…unless you're willing to pay for the privilege. He shies away from anything that might hold him down long enough for betrayal to find him again.

Zebediah Harris spent time overseas, trying to outrun the guilt of turning his back on the young man he loved. Now, almost the moment he sets foot back in Baltimore, he discovers Silver on a street corner in a bad part of town. His effort to make amends lands them both in jail.

Trapped together in a cell, Silver sits on his mountain of secrets and plans a seductive form of revenge, but finds that using a heart as a stepping stone is no way to move past the one man he can't forgive, let alone forget.

Warning:
Contains a surly hero. May cause angst. A prolonged delay in sexual situations may cause frustration. Author recommends a steady dose of familiar friends and characters to alleviate those symptoms. No actual teenagers were used during the construction of the backstory.

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Bad Influence:

Silver crossed the reception room and pushed open the door that took him out onto a wraparound balcony overlooking the harbor. He wasn't alone there—other people had snuck out to enjoy a cigarette in the heavy air. As he moved along the railing and rounded a corner, he half-expected to trip over Jamie and Gavin interlocking some body parts, but eventually he found a spot to be alone. Mostly because the view was blocked by some other building. It was almost a perfect hideaway, except for the glass wall behind him. Thunder rumbled, first only a vibration, then loud enough to get people's attention.

Good. The rain should drive everyone else inside, though Silver hoped people stuck around long enough to drink and buy more of Eli's pictures.

The storm blew up fast. From partly cloudy to early sunset in minutes. The wind lifted his hair, sweeping cocktail napkins off the balcony to spin away into the street four stories down. It was a great place to watch people from, see them hurry into buildings or cars, though the trash was more interesting. The wind kept picking up plastic bags and sending them up like kites.

He didn't have to worry about where he'd sleep or if the roof on Tyson Street had a new leak. And for a few minutes, he didn't have to worry about whether he was living up or down to people's expectations. When lightning backlit a cloud to the south, he glanced down at the metal railing and decided not to worry about that either.

He leaned forward against it as the first hard drops of rain fell, letting them sting against his sore right cheek.

“Hey.” Zeb's voice.

With almost anyone else, Silver would have turned and put his back against the railing, feeling safer facing a person head-on. But if Zeb was going to hurt him some more, Silver would just as soon not let Zeb see his face.

“Hey,” Silver offered in answer.

Zeb put his hands on the railing to Silver's right. Lightning flashed, and Zeb's fingers tapped off the seconds till the thunder. He raised his hands for a second then settled them again. Maybe his righteousness exempted him from lightning strikes.

The hands flexed and gripped the railing. That scar hadn't been there before, the ragged one extending from the webbing next to his pinky, over the next knuckle and then over the back of his hand. And his left index finger was missing a little piece. On his right hand, two of the fingers had swollen knuckles, and the tips leaned, like they'd been broken and taped together.

Silver remembered the skin smooth and straight, the tips and nails teasing the inside of his thighs, palm sliding across his belly, a grip on his hips to hold him flat as he tried to buck up into a hot, wet mouth. The way those hands had trembled, half pushing him away on the first thrust inside Zeb's body.

Maybe it wasn't his eyes but Zeb's hands that showed what he was feeling. Right now they were hesitant, stalling, opening and closing on the top rail, tapping lightly.

“I shouldn't have jumped to conclusions,” Zeb said at last. “It's been a long day. A lot of emotions raked over.” He gave a rueful laugh. “I'm not perfect.”

Silver leaned sideways to face him. “Surprised you can admit it.”

“You know that better than anyone.” Zeb's hand made it halfway to Silver's face and fell away, but his eyes stayed focused on Silver's. “I thank God I got this chance to see you again. To apologize. And I thank you for hearing me out. I guess anything else is a little too much to expect.”

Zeb glanced away.

The rain sliced sideways, and Silver wiped it away from his cheek and ear and eye. “What does that mean?”

“If you want, I'm gone. I'll find a job somewhere else. Let you get on with your life in peace. You won't ever have to see me again.”

“Did I say I wanted that?”

“Not in words. Specifically.”

“You expected a nice-to-see-you-again blow job?”

“Of course not.” Zeb's eyes were dark, but there was very little light coming from behind the glass at this end of the balcony. Only the flicker of a fake candle on a table barely as wide as one of the mini quiches the waiters had handed out. Maybe the dim light was what made the lines around his mouth so stern. “Though was there some other message I was supposed to be receiving based on the way you acted when being tutored?”

The heat in Silver's cheeks should have turned the rain to steam. He shifted back to face the street. “Must be losing my touch.”

“I wouldn't say that.”

Silver didn't need to look to see Zeb's wry smile.

“Jordan.”

No smile in Zeb's voice now. It was the voice that had sent him away. Silver watched the tiny river in the gutter and waited him out.

“Do you want me out of your life?” Zeb said flatly.

Silver spun to face him. “No. I don't want that.”

“What do you want?”

He had to decide now? What if it was the same thing he'd wanted at sixteen? Zeb. Zeb and a house and a dog. To be able to touch Zeb in public and not have to worry. To know when he had a nightmare, he could roll over into Zeb's warm body. What if Silver spilled his guts with everything he wanted and Zeb laughed? Or worse, shook his head patiently and explained that he might have loved Jordan then, but he could never love who Jordan was now?

He couldn't say any of it out loud.

“I don't know.”

Zeb nodded, then leaned in for a kiss, but Silver could tell it was headed for his cheek. He tipped his head so their mouths connected instead.

At first Zeb froze, and then kissed him, steady pressure, gentle movement. The electricity tingling under Silver's skin should have been enough to call a lightning bolt right to them.

Zeb's hand cupped Silver's cheek carefully, and their heads tilted in unison. Like the memory of how they did this couldn't be erased in years and distance and scars. Silver pulled Zeb's lip between his own, tasted rain, and then Zeb. Felt the hint of his tongue as the kiss got hotter, wetter. Zeb's thumb moved, pressing and then jolting away from his bruise.

His lip. It could start bleeding again. Silver stayed in that kiss for another second, a few more moments to imprint that memory, and then backed away.

Zeb let out a long breath. When he spoke, his voice was rough. “When you figure it out, you know where I am.”

Then he was gone.