From the Ashes (28 page)

“Um…” Tomas cleared his throat. “You want to sit down?” He moved the bowl out from between himself and his father and scooted to the middle of the couch so Jesse could fit in the corner.

“Okay.” For the first time in a half hour, Jesse looked around the room. Maria texted while her mother watched the game. Mr. Perez leaned with his elbows on his knees, whispering like he could affect the course of the Super Bowl with the force of his concentration.

Diego shouted at the screen in Spanish and waved his hands around enough that his kids retreated into one of the bedrooms.

With a quick prayer, Jesse shifted around the armrest. He lowered himself onto the couch so carefully there might have been a pressure bomb under the cushions.

Tomas was right up against him. Hard body, familiar heat. Their elbows brushed together. If anyone noticed, they didn’t care enough to balk.

“It’s okay,” Tomas murmured. With a shaking breath, he drew Jesse’s hand into his lap and massaged Jesse’s palm.

Nerves bubbled in the pit of Jesse’s gut, threatening to spill out into giggles. “So…” He struggled for composure. “Who are we rooting for?”

From the armchair, Diego snarled, “The Ravens.” The challenge on his face was almost comical, like he’d managed to cope with his brother being gay, but if Jesse preferred the wrong football team, that would cross the line.

But Jesse didn’t need to antagonize the guy. He might be shaking like a leaf, but he’d already won. “Go Ravens.” He winked at Diego, enjoying the way it made his face go purple. Jesse nudged Tomas’s hand with his pinky. “Hey, I didn’t tell you to stop.”

Tomas only met his eyes for a second, but he was smirking. “You’re getting completely spoiled, you know that?” Speaking quietly, he kept his focus on the TV as he took up his massage again. “You’re worse than that dog of yours.” He ruined the effect of his scolding by working his thumb up each of Jesse’s fingers.

“You love us anyway,” Jesse said, giddy enough to tease.

“Yeah.” Tomas’s glaze flickered, nervous for a second, before he leaned in. So quickly Jesse might have missed it, he kissed Jesse’s cheek. “I do.”

The way Diego and Mr. Perez argued with the television, Jesse would have thought they hadn’t seen. But that didn’t matter. Tomas’s kiss changed everything.

“I know.” Jesse focused on the game so he wouldn’t get misty-eyed in front of Tomas’s family. His chest ached, so full of emotion it must have been pouring off him. But Jesse wasn’t like Tomas’s family, with their loud proclamations and their big hand gestures, so he just smiled shyly. Under his breath, he told Tomas, “Yeah. I love you too.”

Author’s Note

Since 1996, I’ve called Seattle home. I’ve lived, worked and studied here. I’ve raised kids here. I love this city, and for that reason, I’ve dotted
From the Ashes
with neighborhoods, locations and organizations that exist in real life. Though I used creative license in spots, I hope
From the Ashes
conveys the kindness, quirkiness and general northwestiness of the area.

That said, the characters in
From the Ashes
are one hundred percent products of my imagination. Any resemblance to actual human beings, alive or dead, is completely coincidental.

Oh, and Speedy Coffee is not a real place. If you’re on The Ave, you won’t find it. But I’m sure you’ll stumble on a great place for coffee soon enough.

About the Author

Retired party girl and ’80s film enthusiast, Daisy Harris spends most of her time writing sexy romance and plotting the fall of Western civilization. Ms. Harris lives in Seattle, where she tortures her husband by making it rain. She enjoys watching bridges cause traffic, watching football games cause traffic and blithely wearing wool socks with sandals.

She has two little girls who’ve challenged Ms. Harris’s feminist tendencies by insisting that makeup and high heels are appropriate for every occasion, including rock climbing and camping trips.

Daisy writes M/M romance about gods, zombies, firefighters and college boys. She’s never missed an episode of
The Walking Dead
.

Find Daisy on Twitter as
@thedaisyharris
, on the web at
www.thedaisyharris.com
and on Tumblr at
http://holsumcollege.tumblr.com/

When did save a life become change a life?

Bad Attitude

© 2013 K.A. Mitchell

Bad in Baltimore, Book 3

As the openly gay middle son of the most powerful family between Manhattan and Miami, Gavin Montgomery knows his role—look good in a tuxedo and don’t make waves.

Waves are the least of his worries when he tries and fails to keep a friend from jumping off a high bridge. His last thought as he falls in too is that someone else will have to take over as family disappointment…until he’s pulled from the water by a man with an iron grip, a sexy mouth and a chip on his shoulder the size of the national deficit.

Police rescue diver Jamie Donnigan finally has life the way he wants it. Okay, he could have done without losing his father, quitting smoking and watching his friends drift into couplehood. At least he’s managed to escape that particular trap.

When Gavin’s father turns Jamie’s routine rescue into a media circus, he figures if he’s going to suffer for his good deed, he might as well enjoy a roll in the sack. But Jamie’s not immune to Gavin’s cultivated charm…and all the risks that come along with giving in to it.

Warning:
Includes above the recommended daily allowance for snark, attitude, stubbornness and a variety of scorching hot sex (even for this author).

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Bad Attitude:

Beach’s coma forgotten, the heroes were toasted and congratulated until the dessert stations rolled out.

Gavin stepped away from the dais. As a polite “Oo” responded to the colored flames at the bananas Foster station, Gavin heard Jamie mutter, “How much longer does this crap go on?”

The glib manner was gone, the scowl Gavin remembered in its place.

“Not too much longer.”

“Thank fu— God.” The genuine disgust in Jamie’s face made him more appealing than his perfectly fitted Hugo Boss.

There was a chef and a waiter at each of the stations, three people working each of the two bars, and three waiters at the dessert buffet.

“C’mon. Follow me.”

When you were mostly invisible, people didn’t notice if you disappeared. Gavin had slipped down back halls with waiters, bartenders and an occasional guest at more than one black-tie affair. The top floor of The Regency where they were holding this had a conveniently located storage closet on the far side of the commercial elevator.

But when Gavin opened the door, Jamie’s hand shot out to slam it shut again.

“Must’ve fucked a lot of the waitstaff to find your way back here. What’s the plan now?”

Gavin had thought that was painfully obvious, painful in the way he’d made his dick a promise as soon as Jamie had come with him. “I thought you said you’d give me a ride.”

“In my truck, yeah.” Jamie leaned back against the painted cinder blocks covering the elevator shaft. He’d picked up another skewer somewhere along the way, splintering it into a toothpick. He tucked the fragment back into the corner of his mouth. “Why? What did you have in mind?”

Gavin leaned in and pulled the bamboo stick free. But before he answered with the hard kiss he’d intended, the challenge in Jamie’s eyes stopped Gavin mid-lunge. The bored arch of brows over half-rolled eyes suggested Jamie was expecting that response. That he already knew how the whole thing would play out.

Gavin was nothing special. Even wanting to lose himself in feeling something as honest as pure sex for a few minutes was only another layer of faking it through tonight—every fucking night of his life.

He leaned in and tasted Jamie’s mouth with slow, soft pressure, the way Gavin had wanted to when that wide full mouth came into focus the night on the boat. After a quick inhalation, Jamie kissed him back.

A slick, warm slide then the pressure of Jamie’s tongue sent a shock down Gavin’s spine. Rooting him here, making this something real. Jamie licked inside, and Gavin cradled Jamie’s head, thumbs across his cheeks before locking around his neck to drag him deeper into the kiss that filled Gavin’s head, squeezing out everything but this new smell and taste, the electric tingles where their skin touched, the sticky and sweet pulse in his cock and balls.

Jamie’s tongue thrust solid and sure and knowing along Gavin’s, nothing like the frantic or hesitant ventures from a random waiter or discreet guest. It was the same cocky assurance Gavin had seen in Jamie as he held his own in the room full of power brokers, popping expensive hors d’oeuvres into his throat like he owned the place.

Jamie’s hand latched around Gavin’s wrists and pulled him off. “So, we going to hold hands next or should we move this along before someone turns into a pumpkin.”

Gavin forced a matching mocking smile to his face. “Just making sure your engine was ignited.”

“I’ve got a full tank.”

Gavin peered around the cinderblocks to check for traffic before palming Jamie’s crotch. He’d expected thick and solid, but… He ran his hand up the length before whispering in Jamie’s ear, “Kind of nice to find you not fully proportional.”

Jamie grabbed Gavin’s hips and slammed them together. “You’re about to have some other expectations exceeded.”

Gavin turned and reached for the storage closet door again.

Jamie leaned a hand on it, crowding against Gavin’s ass. “Isn’t risking an audience part of the fun, part of what gets you off?” Jamie’s free hand slid around Gavin’s cummerbund and down onto his fly. “Does it make the whole boring pile of crap easier to put up with?”

Jamie unzipped Gavin’s fly, pulled his aching dick free. A shudder ran through him as Jamie’s fingers wrapped tight and gave the barest touch of friction under the head. “Your cock’s out for anyone to see.”

Those hands weren’t small at all as they stroked, milking precome to the tip until it tingled and burned at the slit. A rough thumb spread it, dipped for more. With a quick jerk on Gavin’s arm, Jamie spun Gavin to pin his back flat against the door.

Jamie brought his thumb up between them. “Yeah, that gets you pumping, all right.” He smeared Gavin’s lips, shoving the thick, calloused digit into Gavin’s mouth.

Gavin wanted to force the bitter salt intrusion out with his tongue, give one of his laughs and get Jamie smiling with a
Thanks to some interesting accidents and curiosity I already know how I taste, I wanted to know about you,
but the look in Jamie’s eyes made Gavin hollow his cheeks and suck instead. He swirled his tongue over Jamie’s skin as he thrust his thumb back over Gavin’s lips and in again.

“This risky enough that you don’t need the high too? Knowing that any of your daddy’s rich friends could come by, see you getting your dick sucked. Does it make you feel important? Or is it a bad-boy thing?”

Jamie released him, brought the thumb to his own mouth and licked.

“I can see it makes you feel pretty damned good.” Gavin nodded at the tent in Jamie’s trousers.

“I always do.” Jamie stepped in and kissed him, held Gavin’s head for a long possessive lick inside his mouth, as if he wanted to chase that bit of come, draw it back.

Gavin had a lot more of it waiting. God, he’d had enough of waiting. He slammed his hips forward, because any friction on the spike of need between his legs was worth it, even what he could get from the brushed virgin wool covering Jamie’s cock.

Jamie held on to Gavin’s face and swiveled out of reach of his mouth and hips. “I could have you here, fancy pants around your ankles and my cock up your ass, the mayor and my boss right on the other side of that wall.” Jamie tipped his head back. “But I don’t need that to feel like somebody.”

Gavin stopped straining to get closer. The throb of denied want in his balls suggested this wasn’t going to end in smiles and departing nods of appreciation for a little relief from a dull evening. “I never said you did.”

Jamie had this wrong. It wasn’t about risk or acting out some bad-boy role. Gavin simply wanted to get off.

Sometimes family chooses you.

Family Man

© 2013 Heidi Cullinan and Marie Sexton

How does a man get to be forty without knowing whether he’s gay? That’s a question Vince Fierro is almost afraid to answer. If he is gay, it’ll be a problem for his big, fat Italian family. Still, after three failed marriages, he can’t help but wonder if he’s been playing for the wrong team.

There’s only one way to settle it, once and for all—head for Chicago’s Boystown bars, far from anyone who knows him. Naturally, he runs smack into someone from the neighborhood.

Between working two jobs, going to school, taking care of his grandmother, and dealing with his mother’s ongoing substance abuse, Trey Giles has little time for fun, let alone dating someone who swears he’s straight. Yet after one night of dancing cheek-to-cheek to the sultry strains of Coltrane, Trey finds himself wanting to help Vinnie figure things out—no promises, and no sex.

It seems like a simple plan, until their “no-sex” night turns into the best date of their lives and forges a connection that complicates everything.