Handle With Care (20 page)

“It’s not my birthday. I can’t believe you don’t remember after all that fuss you’ve been making about your diet sheets.”

“Oh my God, it’s Food Day!” I’d forgotten to even look at the damn sheets that morning. Today I had full permission to indulge in all those things that had been forbidden for so long. Today I got to put my new pancreas and kidney through their paces and dose them with sugar, caffeine and even alcohol. Well, maybe not all at once. I didn’t want them to give up on me in disgust.

“Yep, Happy Food Day to you. So, what’s it going to be? An espresso? I have caramel and almond syrup, if you fancy it. Or I could do a latte or a hot chocolate or a—”

“Mocha,” we said together and laughed.

“Mocha it is, then.”

I sat on the bar stool and watched Ollie operate the coffee machine, admiring the economical way he moved while packing the filter holder and frothing the milk. He looked good in the black apron too, and I noted the way it parted at the back, revealing a tasty glimpse of a denim-clad arse and a flash of bright red polka-dot boxers sticking out the top. I still wasn’t quite used to his new shade of Bahama-blue hair dye, but it would probably grow on me by the time he decided to change the colour again. At least the dark roots were growing through now, which made it a little less startling than the red had been when I first saw it.

I panned my gaze around the café, taking in the pictures we’d hung on the walls together. Ollie had refused at first, saying he didn’t have the budget to buy decent frames for his drawings, but I’d made them my congratulatory present to him. They looked amazing professionally mounted and framed, and I’d even persuaded him to put prices on them in case anyone wanted to buy them. I 176

thought he was underselling himself with the amounts he’d put on the stickers, but he’d insisted, claiming he’d have far more chance of making a sale if he didn’t price himself out of the market. That was Ollie for you. No point trying to change his mind about something once he’d made a decision.

Ollie placed the cup in front of me with a flourish. “It’d be nice to put some rum in there too, but you’ll have to wait until we get home as I don’t want to get closed down by the police.”

“This is perfect how it is, cheers.” I bathed my face in the mouth-watering steam and admired the swirling design he’d somehow created in the top by pouring the milk cleverly. “Shit, you’re really good at this, aren’t you? I hope you’re not expecting my coffees to come out this good.”

“If you think I’m letting you anywhere near Bertha, you’ve got another thing coming.”

“Bertha?”

“Big Bertha, my coffee machine. I’m her jealous boyfriend, and she ain’t gonna be touched by no one but me.” Ollie gave a threatening scowl before his grin twitched back into place. “Sorry, Ben, but you’ll have to work your way up to making coffees. No exceptions just because you’re screwing the boss.”

I nearly spluttered on my first mouthful when he said that, but managed to swallow it down, looking around hastily to see if anyone had been listening in.

The mums were all still chatting away, the teenagers outside flicking bits of paper at each other.

“I’m out, Ben. It’s no big deal. I thought you were too.”

“Yes, I am. It’s just, er, been a while. Fuck. Sorry, I’m totally out of practice.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that.” Ollie waggled his eyebrows salaciously. “You’ve been getting a fair bit of practice this last week.”

Then he took my hand, right in front of everyone, and held it there on the counter. I took another sip of mocha to steady my nerves. Caffeine jolted through my system as the flavour melted across my tongue. I closed my eyes and moaned with pleasure, opening them again to find Ollie smirking at me. “This is amazing. Not just the coffee. Everything. The café.” I looked down at our interlinked fingers. “You…”

“I know, I know. The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. You’ll say anything now.” Something sparked in Ollie’s eyes. “So, d’you still think I taste like mocha, now you’ve tried the real thing again?”

I took another sip of the velvety thick liquid, moaning deliberately and licking my lips once I’d swallowed. Ollie looked like he was enjoying the show, watching my lips with dark eyes.

“Mmm, there’s no comparison really.”

“No?” He raised his eyebrows.

“No.” I leaned across the counter and kissed him briefly. “This is delicious, but you taste divine.”

Ollie beamed. “Charmer. You’re still on washing-up duty, though.”

I scooped up a gobbet of milk foam and dotted it on the end of his nose.

“Suits me just fine.”

I kissed him again.

178

About the Author

English through and through, Josephine Myles is addicted to tea and busy cultivating a reputation for eccentricity. She writes gay erotica and romance but finds the erotica keeps cuddling up to the romance, and the romance keeps corrupting the erotica. She blames her rebellious muse, but he never listens to her anyway, no matter how much she threatens him with a big stick. She’s beginning to suspect he enjoys it.

Visit
www.josephinemyles.com
for more about her published stories, saucy free reads and regular blog posts.

Look for these titles by Josephine Myles
Now Available:

Barging In

When the boat’s a’rockin’, don’t come knockin’!

Barging In

© 2011 Josephine Myles

Out-and-proud travel writer Dan Taylor can’t steer a boat to save his life, but that doesn’t stop him from accepting an assignment to write up a narrowboat holiday. Instead of a change of pace from city life, though, the canal seems dull as ditchwater. Until he crashes into the boat of a half-naked, tattooed, pierced man whose rugged, penniless appearance is at odds with a posh accent.

Still smarting from past betrayal, Robin Hamilton’s “closet” is his narrowboat, his refuge from outrageous, provocative men like Dan. Yet he can’t seem to stop himself from rescuing the hopelessly out-of-place city boy from one scrape after another. Until he finds himself giving in to reluctant attraction, even considering a brief, harmless fling.

After all, in less than a week, Dan’s going back to his London diet of casual hookups and friends with benefits.

Determined not to fall in love, both men dive into one week of indulgence…only to find themselves drawn deep into an undertow of escalating intimacy and emotional intensity. Troubled waters neither of them expected…or wanted.

Warning: Contains one lovable tart, one posh boy gone feral, rough sex, alfresco sex,
vile strawberry-flavoured condoms, intimate body piercings, red thermal long-johns,
erotic woodchopping, an errant cat, a few colourful characters you wouldn't touch with a
bargepole, and plenty of messing about on the river.

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Barging In:

Robin caught Dan’s eye, and it was like he’d been captured by the current, pulled in against his will. It wasn’t fair. Someone like Dan shouldn’t have eyes that beautiful. He was mesmerised by the flecks of green and amber and that band of ginger freckles sprinkled across the bridge of his nose.

And then, before Robin could say anything else, Dan pulled him into a kiss.

His lips pressed hot and soft against Robin’s. Perhaps it was the effect of the pint he’d just had on an empty stomach; perhaps it was the sweet, musky scent rising from Dan’s body; or perhaps it was simply the relief of being saved from Charles’s advances. Whatever it was, against his better judgment Robin sank into the kiss, parting his lips and clutching Dan to him with greedy arms.

Dan slid his tongue into Robin’s mouth and made a delightful discovery. Not only did Robin have rings through his nipples, but there was a barbell through his tongue as well. Dan moaned as the metal ball made contact with his palate, his tongue. There was a tiny click every time it clashed against his teeth. God, he wanted that hot mouth around his dick so fucking badly. It had been a while since he’d had head from a bloke with a pierced tongue. Wonder if he had piercings anywhere more intimate?

He stretched on his toes to deepen the kiss, wound his arms around Robin’s neck and pressed against him, body to body. Robin must be able to feel how much he wanted him, what with the way his prick was starting to harden and rub against Robin’s thigh. He rocked his hips to emphasise the point.

Robin froze and started to pull back from the kiss.

Dan thought fast. He couldn’t lose his advantage now. Not when he had Robin exactly where he wanted him. He sank back onto his heels, gave his sultriest smile and took one of Robin’s unresisting hands, lacing their fingers together.

“Come on, gorgeous, we’re running late.” He tugged Robin after him and headed for the door, turning to call back to the old geezer with the Robin fixation. “Thanks for looking after him for me. He gets into all sorts of trouble when I’m not there to keep an eye on him.”

The pub door swung shut behind them. Dan led Robin around the corner and found a large pillar in the shadows outside a closed shop to push him up against. Robin was still dazed, his eyes hooded and his jaw slack. Yeah, that had been a great kiss. Guys were always telling him he had a talented tongue, and seeing what it had done to Robin made him swell with pride. He dropped his hands to Robin’s hips and purred seductively.

“Now, where were we?”

Robin made an alarmed sound in his throat and pulled back slightly, his body trembling. Dan gave a delighted smile. Surely the big guy wasn’t out of his depth, was he? But yes, fear lurked in his eyes.

“No need to worry, you’re in safe hands. I’ve done this plenty of times before.”

It was as if the words broke the spell his kiss had cast. Robin’s eyes widened, and his body stiffened, but not in the place Dan wanted it to.

“How many times?”

“What?”

“How many times have you done
this
before?” Robin snarled, pushing Dan away with a shove to his chest. “You make a habit of picking up strange men, do you?”

Oh God, it was back to Mr. Shouty again, was it? “You’re not that strange. I even know your surname, which is more than I do with some guys.” He’d been aiming for light banter, but the disgust on Robin’s face made him realise he’d misjudged. Dan backpedalled. “I dunno, you just seemed like you needed a

hand, and I knew I owed you one, and then I couldn’t help myself, you looked so delicious.”

“Yeah, well… I was doing fine by myself, thank you very much.”

“Didn’t look like it from where I was standing. You looked like you were struggling with how to let the guy down without being rude. That’s always a recipe for disaster. Best to be honest and get it all out in the open.” Dan grinned, but it didn’t seem to make an impression on his quarry.

“What makes you think I wasn’t interested in him? I suppose someone like you wouldn’t shag an old queen like him if he were the last man on earth, although you’d quite happily work your way through every sleazy little whore at a place like the Hussars.” Robin’s lip curled up in a sneer.

“Look, I’m not a one-man kind of bloke, and I don’t see why I should be ashamed of that.” Dan stuck out his chin. He was buggered if he was going to let Robin take the moral high ground here. “I’m a player.”

“You’re a slut, you mean.”

“Fuck you.”

“Not a chance. I’ve got a girlfriend anyway. Mel. You remember?” There was no mistaking the challenge in Robin’s eyes. It was that defensiveness that fundamentally honest people always betrayed when they were lying through their teeth. “I’d better get going. I’m supposed to be meeting her at the Hat and Feather.”

Dan wasn’t going to let him get away that easily. “Funny that, I figured you were gay, the way you kissed me back in the pub. The
gay
pub, where you were having a drink with a
gay
man.” Bloody hell, if that wasn’t a blush spreading across Robin’s cheeks and making him look even more edible.

“I’m bi, but that’s nobody’s fucking business but my own, okay? Not that it matters, anyway, because I’m off to see my girlfriend. Goodbye, Dan.” His voice

was sharp enough to make Dan wince, and it deterred him from following after Robin as he stalked away.

“See you soon, Robin,” he called.

Robin didn’t turn back.

Sighing heavily, Dan wrapped his jacket closer around his body and headed off towards the Hussars. Robin was right; that probably was more his kind of place, and there was no point wasting the evening. There’d be plenty of opportunity to get to work on Robin before he had to go back to London. He’d have him by the time his trip was over.

A smirk tugged at his lips.

Robin wouldn’t know what had hit him. Dan was going to rock his world.

A stranger could light up his world…or drive him deeper into darkness.

Wight Mischief

© 2011 JL Merrow

Will Golding needs a break from his usual routine, and he’s been looking forward to a holiday helping Baz, his friend-with-benefits, research a book about Isle of Wight ghosts. When an evening beach walk turns into a startling encounter with Marcus Devereux, Will can’t get his mind off the notoriously reclusive writer’s pale, perfect, naked body. And any interest in ghostly legends takes a back seat to the haunting secrets lying in Marcus’s past.

Marcus, painfully aware of his appearance, is accustomed to keeping to himself. But the memory of tall, athletic Will standing on the beach draws him out from behind defenses he’s maintained since age fourteen, when his parents were murdered. While his heart is hungry for human contact, though, his longtime guardian warns him that talking to anyone—particularly a journalist like Baz—is as dangerous as a day in the sun.

As Baz gets closer to the truth, the only thing adding up is the sizzling attraction between Will and Marcus. And it’s becoming increasingly clear that someone wants to let sleeping secrets lie…or Will and Baz could end up added to the island’s ghostly population.