by Mia Downing
And that was all Ryan needed to sign on the new dotted line, the one that gave his heart to Jordan. Ryan leaned over, kissed his lips with lingering gentleness, and lay back, smug.
They lay for a long while, and Jordan asked, “When can I ride my horse?”
“Tomorrow.” They’d go tear down the beach, like Blake used to, and he’d say a silent thanks to the man who had brought them happiness through a stupid will.
“When will you fuck me under the waterfall?”
Ryan laughed, unable to help himself, because he was just so damned happy. “Are you always this horny?”
Jordan shrugged. “I’ve never had enough free time to be horny, so I guess so.”
“Then we definitely won’t be bored.”
A flash streaked across the sky, starting at one edge of the world and racing to the other. Ryan pointed, “Shooting star.”
“That’s Blake. Welcoming me home.”
“Bula, Blake.” Ryan held Jordan closer as the light faded, so grateful to be on the receiving end of everything good and wonderful for a change. “Thanks, buddy, for bringing Jordan home.”
“Bula, and thanks. To both of you.” Jordan kissed him softly, his motions careful in the sway of the hammock. Then he gulped, the noise loud in Ryan’s ear. “I love you. God help me, but I know I do.”
“I love you, too.” Ryan grinned, so grateful for everything, and kissed the man he loved back. “Welcome home.”
About the Author
Mia Downing started creating heroes at age four, but her heroes then rode ponies to rescue the princess, and only kissed her on the cheek.
Today, Mia’s heroes still rescue princesses, but the price of their toys and the expertise of their seduction leads to a lot more than a peck on the cheek. When Mia isn’t busy creating new stories for her readers she fills in as an underwear model for a prestigious lingerie company. She also enjoys horses and knitting.
Visit Mia Downing at
www.miadowning.blogspot.com
To chat with Mia Downing and other Wild Rose Press authors of erotic romance, join us at www.groups.yahoo.com/group/thewilderroses.
Also Available
Ripped
by
Mia Downing
Lifeguard/artist Gavin White has been holding the ripped shreds of his life together by the seams. Facing the anniversary of his sister’s death, he fights the dark call of dependency and is at the edge of succumbing when his best friend since preschool returns to his life. Handsome geek-turned-hunk, Erik Clarke, wasn’t afraid to come out and had been bold enough to kiss Gavin the last time they were together. Damn that kiss. Gavin wants more. So much more, but he was never brave enough to tell Erik his dreams. With his future hanging by a tattered thread, Gavin must trade one temptation for another or risk ripping his life apart.
Chapter One
Erik Clarke waited patiently on the picnic table under the pavilion as lifeguard Gavin White lorded over his loyal, beach-going subjects, a bronzed king on his throne. Aviator sunglasses hid those expressive brown eyes, and a red baseball cap covered his short, dark hair. Gavin glanced at his watch, removed his cap, and pulled a red sleeveless tee over his head, hiding a bronzed chest.
Erik often came to the beach when Gavin worked to spy from afar. He liked it when Gavin started to sweat in the mid-day sun, the beads rolling over sculpted lines in his flesh, his skin glowing and shiny. Gavin would go down to the water and jump in quick, that jet black hair slicked back, his red board shorts molded to his form, dipping into the creases of his groin, clinging to his thighs. It was a fantasy of Erik’s, one he’d jacked off to so many times since they turned eighteen and Gavin had started lifeguarding at their tiny, Connecticut town beach every summer.
Gavin at twenty-four was way different than Gavin at eighteen. This Gavin made Erik’s heart ache in ways the eighteen-year old never had. He was taller, broader, more handsome. Slower to smile, the shadows in his eyes harder to chase away. That darkness lingered now, his expression brooding, his shoulders tense. It had nothing to do with the recent shark sighting, either.
Why the hell was Gavin here, today of all days? Erik wanted to drag him off that stand and back to Gavin’s studio where he could paint, cast his soul on canvas so he could release the tension cording his shoulders.
Gavin was an amazing artist. Until last month, Erik had been his favorite model, and he’d been captured on canvas in a variety of poses, making him look way more attractive than he was in person. Gavin’s love for the male form was evident in each work, and he had remarked how he loved the hard, sculpted flow of male muscle, so different from softer, female bodies. That had surprised Erik at first, because shouldn’t straight guys want to paint women? Maybe.
The last painting had been a nude of Erik. All that nudity and closeness to Gavin had done bad things to Erik’s libido and in a bold, really impulsive, move he had kissed Gavin. Hard. On the mouth. Gavin had kissed him back. Hot and heavy, frantic with tongue in the best fucking kiss ever. But Gavin had freaked. Things had been strained since then, and it killed Erik that he couldn’t have controlled himself better. He loved Gavin on so many levels. And he missed him.
Today wasn’t about the kiss, though. He was here for Gavin. As a friend, to help keep him sane.
There weren’t tons of subjects for Gavin to lord over, seeing as the sun was dropping down and the beach goers were retreating with armloads of towels, bags, chairs, and umbrellas. Erik waited by the soda machine in the pavilion because Gavin always got a can of cola before he left for the evening, his one indulgence for putting up with screaming kids and nagging mothers all day long.
Gavin glanced at his watch then back at the water, free of swimmers. He climbed down, his biceps flexing and rippling, those thighs strong. Erik tensed. Gavin had to be close to the breaking point, his emotions like soda shaken in a can, ready to explode when the top was popped. Erik would gladly suffer whatever Gavin felt, so he didn’t have to do it alone.
“Erik.” Gavin halted in the doorway of the pavilion, frozen like a statue of a Greek god in living color. He removed his sunglasses. Deep brown eyes flared with excitement, in direct opposition to the frown curving his firm lips downward. A muscle in his jaw twitched, his teeth clenching down as his lordly gaze swept Erik’s form.
“Hey.” Erik sat on top of one of the picnic tables, elbows on his knees, hands clasped between his thighs.
“You’re not here to scope out the tanned bods, are you?” he joked, but his gaze darted away, worried. Almost fearful.
“Not here for that.” No sense in lying. “I’m here to see you.”
Gavin grunted and took a dollar from his pocket, turning to the soda machine. The money disappeared, and lights glowed in the growing darkness. “I’m not taking new models right now, if you’re wondering. I’ve been doing some work from photos I took last summer.” He smacked the button of his choice.
“You know that’s not what I want,” Erik said, keeping his voice soft and patient. This wasn’t about the kiss, damn it. He refused to let the kiss keep him from Gavin on the day when he needed a friend most.
Gavin grabbed the soda from the machine and turned slowly. His Adam’s apple bobbed, his eyes widening. “You weren’t supposed to remember.”
As if Erik could ever forget. “But I did. I’m here.”
Gavin closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath, exhaling in a loud whoosh. “Thank you.”
It wasn’t at all what Erik expected to hear, not from the smartass, not from the guy with all the macho answers. But deep down, beneath the layers of bravado and strength was a guy who ached to hold his sister again.
“How could you work?” Erik asked. “I thought you’d be with your parents.”
Gavin’s laugh was bitter, his brown eyes cynical. “How could I not work? I couldn’t go back home and watch my parents become basket cases all over again, feeling like a huge piece of shit on someone’s heel.”
“It wasn’t your fault.�
�� Gavin and his sister had been hit by a drunk driver three years ago, his sister killed instantly. Gavin had been driving. Today was the anniversary of Angela’s death.
“I didn’t help.”
“You didn’t do a damned thing. You did as your parents asked. You drove carefully. You were sober.”
“The one day I was sober, I get punished for it.” Gavin’s voice was so low and raw Erik almost missed his admission.
“Is that what you think? Jesus, that’s fucked up.”
“Is it?” Gavin raked a hand through his spiky hair, giving the ends a ruthless tug. “The one day I’m sober—yeah, I was hung over—but I was clean. No drugs, no booze. Clear-headed, driving like my grandfather across town. I even had my seatbelt on. Every single fucking T crossed, every I dotted, and I still manage to get her killed.”
“Not your fault,” Erik whispered, feeling it was his fault, too. He had tried to save Gavin from the drugs, the alcohol. He sat up and patted the table top next to him. “Come. Sit.”
Gavin responded to the direct command, dragging his feet to sit next to Erik. He smelled of ocean salt and coconut suntan oil, the stuff that was bad for you in a skin cancer way and made you think of tropical vacations.
Gavin was close, so close, the length of his thigh brushing Erik’s as he assumed a pose he’d painted Erik in, only there was nothing sexy or contemplative about his position. His hands gripped each other so hard the knuckles were white. Strong, wide shoulders rolled forward, the bare skin of his arms deeply tanned. He dropped his head and touched his forehead to those white knuckles, his eyes closed.
“I’m here, you know,” Erik soothed and tentatively put a hand on Gavin’s shoulder, his skin hot, the muscle rippling under his fingers as Gavin leaned into his touch. “You’re not alone, and I’m not judging.”
“I know.” Gavin lifted his head and met Erik’s gaze, his eyes tortured. “I just need to keep busy. Stay away from my parents, find something to occupy myself so I’m not drinking and lighting up again. I’ve been clean ever since, but today is the day when I just want to sink, you know? That feeling is worse this year. She would have been twenty-one.”
“I get it.” Erik stood and shoved his hands in the pockets of his shorts because he wanted nothing more than to wrap them around Gavin’s shoulders. “So let me hang with you.”
“Seriously?” He didn’t expect the look of hope to cross Gavin’s features. “What about…what’s-his-face?”
“Rob. He’s not in the picture.” Rob had never been in the picture, but after Gavin had freaked Erik lied and made Rob out to be more than a friend. If he hadn’t, Gavin would have thrust Erik out of his life completely. “I just want to be your friend. Help you through this day.”
Gavin hesitated, then nodded. “We’ll get pizza, watch a movie. It will keep me busy.”
“Okay.” Erik breathed a sigh of relief. “You want to get the pizza or the movie?”
“Pizza. Your choice of movie.” Gavin got his keys from his beach bag and gave Erik the briefest glimmer of a smile. “See you in a bit?”
Erik nodded, glad for a chance to be back in Gavin’s life. “Sounds good.”
****
Gavin pulled up in front of the house, his apartment on the second floor of the graceful Victorian-style home just around the block from the beach. He had two bedrooms, one he used for painting, the light there perfect to cast his feelings on the canvas. He hadn’t painted since he’d chased Erik away, unable to deal with the direction that day had taken.
Big mistake. He should have said something, tried harder, allowed himself what he wanted most. He could have told Erik the truth. But he didn’t deserve Erik. Not one bit.
Erik was his rock. Had been since pre-school. Erik had kept him sane in high school, listening to him bitch about football, tutoring him so his dyslexia didn’t hold him back any more than it already had. Erik had tried to save him from the drugs, the booze, but the need to escape his dad’s drinking and his mom’s denial had been too strong at that point. And despite everything, Erik still stood by him. Gavin didn’t even want to know why. He was a weak fuck. Maybe Erik hadn’t realized that yet.
Erik sat on the porch swing, as expected. He was still in shorts and had pulled on a deep green T-shirt, one that matched the green in his eyes, which were flecked with gold and patience. Gone was the geeky look of his youth, replaced with slim, hard lines on his tall frame, a sculpted jaw, beautiful lips, and thick, brown hair that Gavin wanted to run his hands through.
Erik was still a geek inside, making a killing at some computer company, doing stuff with computer games Gavin couldn’t begin to comprehend. But Erik’s eyes lit up when he talked about it, radiating warmth and excitement that echoed in Gavin’s soul. Man, he loved that part of Erik, the quirky guy with all the answers and the quick smile.
Gavin killed the engine and hesitated, his palms sweaty on the steering wheel. It was just a meal with a friend. But all he could think about was that frenzied, hot kiss. He wanted more. Needed more. But Erik deserved better.
Gavin got out of the car and held out the pizza box. “Got pie.”
Erik rose and shoved his hands in his pockets like he always did. “Meatball?”
“You know it.” He carried it over to the house, and they trudged up the stairs along the side to the top floor. They entered the tiny kitchen, and Gavin put down the box on the small kitchen table. “Soda’s in the fridge.”
Erik grabbed two cans while Gavin found napkins. They sat and feasted, and though Gavin hadn’t been all that hungry, he now found he was starving. A day on the beach in late August would do that to him.
“You’ve been painting, then?” Erik asked between bites. “I wondered if you’d found a gallery to display your work. You had talked about it.”
“Not yet.”
“Why not? Your paintings rock. I bet you could sell quite a few of them and show your parents a thing or two. Not the nude ones—I get it. But you’re damned good.”
“I’ve been busy.” That wasn’t true at all. He hadn’t been busy, and his parents would shit a brick. They loved art. An artist son was an entirely different matter though. It was bad enough that he was an art teacher at the grammar school when summer ended. They wanted him to be an accountant, a doctor, a lawyer. All unrealistic, hefty paying jobs that would make them look like stellar parents and help support them.
“They still micro-manage you?”
“Yeah.” His mom had micro-managed full-throttle since Angela died. Gavin didn’t want to think about the truth that was his shitty life. Not today of all days.
Erik finished his slice and wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Okay. So enough about your mind-suck parents. Movie? I got two action things.”
“I want to paint you.”
Where those words came from, Gavin had no clue, but they surfaced and the need to paint became a driving force, stronger than any lust or desire he’d ever felt. It was as if the only way he could purge this desolate feeling from his body was to get his hands dirty. Or maybe a part of him wanted Erik naked. He didn’t know. The desire for both blended, and he shoved his chair from the table with more force than necessary. “Now.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah. I need this. Need that sort of release, you know?”
“I get it.” Erik glanced at the fading light outside. “You like mid-afternoon light, though.”
“Candles,” he said, even more excited. The light would be beautiful on Erik’s golden skin, complementing the color of his eyes, and bring out the green from the bronze. He sucked in a breath, hoping to calm the skip in his heart. He’d always loved painting Erik, but this would be incredible.
And if it worked…Erik would have to return each night until it was finished. He wouldn’t push for more, though. “I want to paint you surrounded by candles. Nude, so the light flickers on your skin.”
“Okay.” Erik swallowed, and then his lips parted, sensual in their firmness. Gavin noted that,
wanting that look on his canvas, too. “You have that many?”
“Yeah, my mom had that candle fetish thing, remember? When she sold them to everyone? Your mom had a party.”
Erik laughed, and the sound went straight to Gavin’s gut, making it clench in a good way. “I think I have a box from that fetish, too.”
“So? You game?”
Erik brushed off his hands and closed the pizza box lid. He gave Gavin a long guarded look, not at all like Erik, usually open and carefree. Gavin knew he’d hurt Erik. But Gavin was trapped in that dark place, and Erik was gentle and kind. Erik deserved better. So much more.
Erik finally sighed. “You really want to paint me.”
“No. I need to paint you.”
Erik rose and gestured down the hall, looking like he was certain this was a bad idea. “Then let’s go.”
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