So where I live, it's way long past the time when the weather is actually hot this time of year. Guess that's why we Canadians spend so much time in winter cuddling to keep warm :) That's part of the reason I signed up for this blog hop! There's going to be plenty along the way to keep anyone warm, I hope, and if you comment here, I'll even help you heat up with a free copy of Face to Face, which comes out next week. Here's an excerpt:
“I am.” Skate closed his eyes, gathering the threads of his fraying self as best he could, then opened them again to stare at the ceiling. “I am nervous,” he admitted.
Incredible how three little words felt like gutting himself, right there on the bed, and letting Denny smell the blood, and they weren’t even the important words. Not the ones Denny deserved to hear.
He was safe here. Nothing could hurt him now. Nothing except this. Nothing except daring to reach out and touch what Denny was offering him. Or not touching. Because the uncertainty growing in his lover’s eyes was death itself to Skate, and instinctively, he lifted both hands and rested them on Denny’s thighs, connecting them in a deliberate, purposeful gesture.
Tension rippled through muscles just under Denny’s warm skin. His breath hitched and he shifted, moving one leg, and Skate felt the roughness of damaged skin under his fingertips. He glanced at the ragged mark and frowned.
“Nevermi…” Denny swallowed.
“No pretending,” Skate reminded him. “You disappeared that night. Just before we came back.” He let his fingers skim the sensitive, barely healed scar. “Somebody hurt you.”
Denny’s cheeks went white and his eyes bleak. He scrambled up, rooted in his jeans pocket and came back with a grubby five dollar bill, which he spread onto the nightstand. “Last time,” he said, staring at the money and speaking in a tone that sounded like an echo of an old, worn out promise.
He blinked and suddenly his lashes were wet, spiked together, and spots of pink infused the too-light pallor of his face. “I wasn’t even worth—”
Skate pulled Denny back onto the bed, back into his lap. They were never going to get through this if they stopped to catalogue every mistake, every regret, every scar. He forced himself up to a sitting position where he could lean on the headboard and once more spread his hands over Denny’s warm, smooth, perfect skin. The edges of the scar tissue, rough under his fingers, only serving to remind him exactly what his man had been willing to do for him, and exactly what he had, right here in his hands, that he was never going to let go of.
“Last time,” he said firmly. “The last time, Denny, because from now on, only one who touches you is me.” He leaned, peering until Denny lifted his head enough to look into Skate’s eyes. “You’re mine now.”
“Always was,” Denny whispered.
Please, please follow this link to Reme's post and find the other authors. Apparently, wordpress doesn't like the code. And rest assured, when i am released from the evil day job, I will definitely post your comments. Thanks so much for stopping by!!!!