by TA Moore
Clayton laughed. It caught between sardonic and wistful—not convinced but willing to admit it wished it was.
“You think this is real?” he asked as he went over and sprawled out on the leather couch. He took a sullen gulp of whiskey, and Kelly wondered if he knew how beautiful he looked, all pale hair and cream skin against the dark grain of the leather. “That if we got married after fucking twice, that’s real?”
It would have been easy to laugh and back out—to call it a joke and blame it on the drink he hadn’t had. Except his dad’s example had gotten him that far. It had literally never helped to just try and ignore something you knew was true.
Kelly crawled onto the couch and straddled Clayton’s lean thighs. His knees dug into the cushions, buried his fingers in Clayton’s loose, product-free curls, and tugged his head back until the line of his freshly shaven neck was taut and kissable. Fresh aftershave had a sharp burn against Kelly’s jaw as he kissed his way from collarbone to the corner of his mouth.
“I don’t know what this is,” he admitted against Clayton’s soft lips. “All I know is what I want it be, that I want it be okay to want that. Maybe the marriage thing is crazy, but… I don’t mean tomorrow. Or even next year. I just don’t see why it couldn’t happen one day.”
“What if I don’t want to.”
Kelly kissed him—deeply, sweetly, eagerly. It might well be the last time ever did, and if it was the end, he wanted something better to remember it by than their tepid, cautious public kiss under the eyes of the cops.
“Then this is even more awkward than if you had someone else in here,” Kelly said with a nervous laugh. “Then I’m the romantic idiot you always said I was. If I’m not, though, if we could do this, then you’re the idiot if you don’t try.”
Clayton snorted and ran his hands up Kelly’s thigh to cup his ass. “I don’t believe that love will last, Kelly,” he said. “Every relationship I’ve ever had ended. Every relationship I’ve ever seen ended.”
“Me too.” Kelly reached down between their bodies and cupped Clayton’s cock. It was heavy and thick through the silk. He rubbed his thumb along the length of it, from the tight base to the wet smear at the head. Lust wasn’t a commitment to anything, but it wasn’t indifference either. Clayton swore softly and tilted his head back against the couch as Kelly nuzzled his throat. “I still want to try. I mean, every happy couple out there had a string of failed relationships before they met the right person. And even if we’re one of the relationships that fail, I still want that. I want that much of you.”
“Why?” Clayton asked.
“Because….” Kelly hesitated. He could wrap it up. He could talk about it as some future aspiration. Except he intended to be honest. “I think I’m in love with you. No, I am. Maybe it won’t last forever—I’m not sure it will—but right now? I love you, and I want it to stick.”
Clayton snarled with a sharp, angry sound and twisted under Kelly. His narrow hips ground against Kelly’s erection and sent a sharp jolt of overstimulation that left him breathless and boneless. Clayton took advantage of Kelly’s distraction to tumble them off the low couch and onto the floor. He wrapped his fingers around Kelly’s wrists and pinned him down.
“You can’t do that,” he said, his voice rough and almost desperate. He stripped Kelly’s T-shirt off as he talked, his hands and his body and his cock convinced how real it was, even if his brain had balked. Clayton kissed a bruise under Kelly’s collarbone. It was a rough possessive kiss with tongue and teeth. “You can’t just… you can’t just say you love me, for fuck’s sake. It’s not fair, Kelly.”
The jeans took a minute more to get out of—a crumpled packet of lube dragged out of his pocket—and kick away as his sneakers tangled up in the legs.
“I do, though,” Kelly said cockily. “I love you. Maybe it’s stupid, but it’s mine, and you can’t stop me.”
Clayton kissed him. The force of it made Kelly’s jaw ache as Clayton tried to absorb him before he had to break for real.
“I don’t want to stop you,” Clayton groaned finally. He rested his forehead against Kelly’s and closed his eyes, his jaw tight as he struggled for control. “I just don’t think I can do this. I couldn’t let you go if you loved me.”
“My name’s Shelley.”
It was the first time that Kelly had willingly said that out loud since he was four. Clayton stared at him, nonplussed by either the shift in topic or the terrible name.
“Shelley Kelly?” He didn’t quite laugh, but something wicked danced in his eyes as he took the lube from Kelly and ripped it open. Pale gel slicked his fingers as he roughly squeezed it out. “You’re lying.”
Kelly whimpered and lifted his hips off the ground as Clayton pushed his long fingers inside him. The chill of the gel flushed expectant heat through his body and tightened his cock. It pressed hard and eager against his body.
“I wish I were,” he panted raggedly. He gripped Clayton’s shoulders and tried to make sense. “I’ve never told that to anyone I slept with. Some of them knew, some of them found out. You’re the only one I’ve ever actually told, because I wanted you to have that. I want you to know I love you. You don’t have to love me back. You don’t even have to try.”
Clayton snorted and hooked his arms under Kelly’s thighs to lift them up. His cock pressed against Kelly with a blunt pressure that made him squirm for more as Clayton dragged a hard kiss across his mouth.
“You’re an idiot,” he said as he rolled his hips forward. The hot thickness of him filled Kelly with a hard, impatient thrust. “I already love you. I loved you first.”
They made love on the floor—wet and messy and eager. Kelly’s ass stuck to the polished wood, and Clayton caught his elbow on the edge of the couch. It wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t a fairy tale. But it was definitely real.
Kelly groaned against Clayton’s shoulder as each thrust pulsed hunger and pleasure through him. It caught in the electric tangle of embarrassment and nerves that had driven him that far and knotted in and around him until he felt like he couldn’t breathe. He reached down and wrapped his hand around his cock. The pace of his strokes was quick and eager, a race to the finish line.
This time.
Next time, maybe they’d go slowly.
He came first, the wet pulse of pleasure squeezed into the heart of his hand. Clayton caught his wrist and pulled his arm so he could kiss sticky fingers and a wet palm. He licked come off his lips and came with a rough thrust that buried him so deeply in Kelly that it almost hurt.
They sprawled on top of each other. Kelly felt loose and spent, a warm, pleasant feeling that filled him from ears to midthigh. All the frenetic energy that had powered his desperate, over-the-top confession was gone.
Without it, he felt a bit self-conscious and a lot stupid.
Still in love, just embarrassed.
“I hate France,” Clayton murmured as he finally pulled out of Kelly and sprawled out on the floor next to him. “I’d rather go to Hawaii.”
“France has culture,” Kelly said. “I only picked it because I thought you’d like it.”
Clayton kissed him. It was sticky and metallic—there was come and whiskey on his breath. “I know. You’d love Hawaii, and if we wait until Maxie is old enough, so will he.” He shuddered and laughed as he buried his face in Kelly’s hair. “I was going to let you go. I didn’t want to come between you and your family. I know how much you love them. But if we do this… I don’t know if I can let go of you loving me.”
Kelly laughed and tucked himself along the length of Clayton’s body. He didn’t fit at all, but it still felt perfect.
“So don’t let go,” he said. “And I knew there was a romantic under there somewhere.”
Clayton snorted skeptically against his shoulder.
Epilogue
THE SOUND of his phone as it rattled to life… somewhere… jolted Clayton awake. He rolled over, cotton sheets tangled around his legs, and stretched out in the bed
until his fingers touched the headboard and his toes brushed wood. A glance at the clock showed the minute hand just shy of five o’clock.
“Hell,” he muttered. No one ever called about anything good at five in the morning.
He carefully untangled the sheets from his legs and crawled out of bed. His phone was in a tangle of silk, cotton, and denim they’d discarded on the floor the night before. He plucked it out and swiped to answer.
“Yeah?” he said.
He turned back to the bed to check that Kelly was asleep. He was flat on his stomach, the line of his back distracting, and the taut curve of his ass hard to resist.
“Is it too early?” Nadine asked.
“I’m up,” Clayton said. He switched the phone from one ear to the other and dragged himself away from the bed. It was too tempting to think he could roll Kelly over to kiss his throat, down his chest to the taut bud of his nipple, and Nadine wouldn’t realize. He picked his way carefully down the hall, along the memorized route of safe, unsqueaky boards. “Is this about the case?”
“Not the case,” Nadine said. She sighed down the phone and admitted, “It’s a favor. I know it’s a lot to ask. You guys are just married and barely home, but….”
She paused. Aw shit.
Clayton nudged open the door to the nursery and went in to check on Max. The toddler lay on his back and blew wet spit bubbles as he snored gently. Clayton reached into the cot and brushed dark curls out of Max’s face. He looked older than three, all long, gangly limbs and thick, sun-roughened hair.
“What is it?” he asked. He mentally juggled his schedule for the day to see if he could fit her in if he needed to. The meeting with Declan Tate hung by a thread—unless Declan came up with something convincing, Clayton was going to refuse to represent him. The man had been bad enough on the other side of the table, and he’d given his lawyer a gray streak. He waited for Nadine to answer.
“Can Harry come and stay the weekend?” she asked. “He wants to see Max, and his grandpa has promised to show him how to change a tire.”
So Declan got to get rejected in person, after all.
“That should be fine,” he said. “I’ll check with Kelly in the morning.”
“Thanks,” Nadine said. “Sorry for calling so late. I’ve been doing so many late nights I think I’ve lost track of time completely. Congratulations again, by the way.”
She hung up.
“Check with me about what?” Kelly asked. He wrapped his arms around Clayton’s waist from behind and kissed his shoulder. “Should I be worried?”
“Just Nadine,” Clayton said. “Go back to bed.”
“How about come back to bed?” Kelly suggested.
Clayton laughed and let Kelly pull him out of the room and down the hall. He should get some sleep. It would be a busy day at the firm tomorrow, even if he hadn’t had to slot in another consultation, and he needed to be sharp. He was the youngest partner now, and he had a lot to prove. First, though, he wanted to prove to himself that it was all still real.
As they fell onto the bed in a tangle of long limbs and fingers, reality tasted like his come in Kelly’s mouth and felt like a too-short, too-muscular man who was still the hottest thing Clayton had ever seen.
More from TA Moore
Cloister Witte is a man with a dark past and a cute dog. He’s happy to talk about the dog all day, but after growing up in the shadow of a missing brother, a deadbeat dad, and a criminal stepfather, he’d rather leave the past back in Montana. These days he’s a K-9 officer in the San Diego County Sheriff’s Department and pays a tithe to his ghosts by doing what no one was able to do for his brother—find the missing and bring them home.
He’s good at solving difficult mysteries. The dog is even better.
This time the missing person is a ten-year-old boy who walked into the woods in the middle of the night and didn’t come back. With the antagonistic help of distractingly handsome FBI agent Javi Merlo, it quickly becomes clear that Drew Hartley didn’t run away. He was taken, and the evidence implies he’s not the kidnapper’s first victim. As the search intensifies, old grudges and tragedies are pulled into the light of day. But with each clue they uncover, it looks less and less likely that Drew will be found alive.
Just another day at the office.
For some people that means spreadsheets, and for others it’s stitching endless hems. For Jacob Archer a day at the office is stealing proprietary information from a bioengineering firm for a paranoid software billionaire. He’s a liar and a thief, parlaying a glib tongue and a facile conscience into a lucrative career. He just has one rule—never get involved with a mark.
Well, had one rule. To be fair, though, Simon Ramsey is dark, dangerous, and has shoulders like a Greek statue. Besides, it’s not as though Jacob’s even really stealing from Simon… just his boss and his brother-in-law. Simon didn’t buy that excuse either after he caught Jacob breaking into the company’s computer network.
That would have been that—one messy breakup, one ticket to Bali booked—but it turns out that the stolen information is worth more than Jacob thought. With his life—and his ribs—threatened, Jacob needs Simon to help him out. Or maybe he just needs Simon.
His mother. His best friend. The barmaid at the local pub. Everyone is determined to find Nathan Moffatt a boyfriend. It’s the last thing Nathan wants. After spending every day making sure his clients experience nothing but romantic magic, the Granshire Hotel’s wedding organiser just wants to go home, binge watch crime dramas, and eat pizza in his underwear.
Unfortunately, no one believes him, and he’s stuck with lectures about dying alone. Then inspiration strikes. He needs the people in his life to want him to stay single as much as he does. He needs a bad boyfriend.
There’s only one man for the job.
Flynn Delaney is used to people on the island of Ceremony thinking the worst of him. But he isn’t sure he wants the dubious honor of worst boyfriend on the entire island. On the other hand, if he plays along, he gets to hang out with the gorgeous Nathan and piss off the owners of the Granshire Hotel. It’s a win-win.
There’s only one problem—Flynn’s actually quite a good boyfriend, and now Nathan’s wondering if getting off the sofa occasionally is really the worst thing in the world.
A Wolf Winter Novel
The world ends not with a bang, but with a downpour. Tornadoes spin through the heart of London, New York cooks in a heat wave that melts tarmac, and Russia freezes under an ever-thickening layer of permafrost. People rally at first—organizing aid drops and evacuating populations—but the weather is only getting worse.
In Durham, mild-mannered academic Danny Fennick has battened down to sit out the storm. He grew up in the Scottish Highlands, so he’s seen harsh winters before. Besides, he has an advantage. He’s a werewolf. Or, to be precise, a weredog. Less impressive, but still useful.
Except the other werewolves don’t believe this is any ordinary winter, and they’re coming down over the Wall to mark their new territory. Including Danny’s ex, Jack—the Crown Prince Pup of the Numitor’s pack—and the prince’s brother, who wants to kill him.
A wolf winter isn’t white. It’s red as blood.
Sequel to Dog Days
A Wolf Winter Novel
When the Winter arrives, the Wolves will come down over the walls and eat little boys in their beds.
Doctor Nicholas Blake might still be afraid of the dark, but the monsters his grandmother tormented him with as a child aren’t real.
Or so he thought…until the sea freezes, the country grinds to a halt under the snow, and he finds a half-dead man bleeding out while a dead woman watches. Now his nightmares impinge on his waking life, and the only one who knows what’s going on is his unexpected patient.
For Gregor it’s simple. The treacherous prophets mutilated him and stole his brother Jack, and he’s going to kill them for it. Without his wolf, it might be difficult, but he’ll be damned if anyone else gets to kill
Jack—even if he has to enlist the help of his distractingly attractive, but very human, doctor.
Except maybe the prophets want something worse than death, and maybe Nick is less human than Gregor believes. As the dead gather and the old stories come true, the two men will need each other if they’re going to rescue Jack and stop the prophets’ plan to loose something more terrible than the wolf winter.
Readers love TA Moore
Bone to Pick
“TA Moore brings readers a solid, well written, suspenseful mystery in Bone to Pick. The plot is multi-layered and peppered with suspicious characters who had me fooled almost to the very end.”
—The Novel Approach
“Bone to Pick is a great mystery that is sure to pull readers in from the beginning.”
—Top 2 Bottom Reviews
Liar, Liar
“Liar, Liar is a great suspense with some twisty moments and really fun characters. I can definitely recommend this one, particularly if you are a fan of romantic suspense and like your heroes a little bit outside the box.”
—Joyfully Jay
“I highly recommend this story to everyone in the mood for something tense, action packed, and oddly romantic.”
—Love Bytes
Dog Days
“Wow. Dog Days turned out to be even more than I expected… Trust me when I say you won’t regret reading this… not if you love twists, turns, and horror.”
—Rainbow Book Reviews
“I was completely sucked into this story right from the beginning. I couldn’t put the book down. I was completely fascinated with the lore and how the world is set up and the background for each character.”