First Impressions

by Jay Hogan

  I saw the moment the gears clanked into place and he knew. That soft mouth with its inviting lip-glossed shimmer curved up in a calculated smirk. Saliva pooled in my mouth, and down south sat a little bit taller. Goddamn.

  “See something you like?” he asked, eyes smiling.

  Heat flared in my cheeks, humiliation churned my gut, and I no doubt had the equivalent of a neon sign above my head that read “ridiculous gay instacrush.” Way to go, idiot.

  I stumbled over a reply, barely managing to pull off a single “Huh?” Yeah, riveting.

  He didn’t repeat himself. I’d heard, and he knew it. He just stood there waiting, as if I were some kind of puzzle to solve.

  Good luck with that. I needed to get my loser self out of there before I did or said something stupid—more stupid—but my feet were locked to the ground, and I was 90 percent sure I was still blushing.

  Finally, as if he’d come to some sort of conclusion about my relative sanity, his shoulders dropped, and he threw out his hand. “Cameron Wano—Cam. Mathew Wano’s big brother.”

  By some miracle my hand rose of its own accord and enveloped his smaller one in some semblance of normality. Warm, dry fingers closed around mine in a firm grip, and yeah, I totally did the whole firm-grip-on-something-else mind-trip.

  “Reuben Taylor,” I answered. “Chiefs’ fullback.”

  He grinned. “I know who you are, Reuben Taylor.”

  He did? Why did that make me so goddamn happy? The sound of my name on his lips did strange things to my stomach, and for a second, I couldn’t think of a reply. I swallowed hard. “Yeah.” I tipped my head at the hall. “With a brother in the game, you must get sick of hearing all the shit, right? But I, ah… I recognise you too, actually.”

  His brows shot up in genuine surprise and it was all I could do not to reach out and smooth them back into place.

  “Really?” he said, his steady gaze knotting my nerves.

  I shuffled on my feet. “Well, not your name. I mean… I didn’t know your name… obviously.”

  He bit back a smirk. I was rattled, and he knew it. “Obviously,” he said.

  Way to insult the guy, idiot. “I mean, I will now… remember your name, that is, after today, but… I’ve seen you before… I think.” Jesus. Could I sound any more like a complete dork? “You’re kind of hard to miss.” And, oh my God, I may have even snorted.

  Those gorgeous brows creased in a you-did-not-just-say-that kind of way.

  Just bury me now.

  “I meant in a good way,” I flustered. “You’re hard to miss… in a good way. Shit. That still sounds bad, right?” I trailed off and let the awkward silence swallow any remaining pride I possessed. “You should just hit me now and get it over with.”

  He might have chuckled, but I was too busy looking for the ground to swallow me up to care. The crunch of stones underfoot was, I assumed, a signal of his departure, but seconds later fingers caught my chin and gently turned my face to meet that tawny gaze. He was so close, I only needed to lean down a fraction and I could’ve run my tongue up all that glorious skin or nibbled on the sexy stubble that framed his jaw. Ugh. I was making a complete idiot of myself over a guy I knew nothing about.

  He tilted his head, still smiling. “Well, well, Reuben Taylor. Aren’t you just the surprise now?”

  He cast his eyes over my face, and I licked my lips before I was even aware of it. His gaze zeroed in immediately, eyes darkening. Holy hell. My breath hitched, and a shiver ran the length of my body. It didn’t pass unnoticed. He smirked, reached out, and ran his thumb over my lower lip. I nearly puddled at his feet and offered him my firstborn child.

  The man might have been shorter than me, a ton lighter in muscle, and wearing more eye makeup than my best friend Georgie on a night out, but there was no denying who was calling the shots. Those golden eyes had me netted tight as he fisted my shirt and pulled me close, resting his lips against my ear.

  “I believe the evening just took a significant turn for the better,” he whispered, then nibbled my lobe.

  Holy shit. My knees buckled and everything south went on red alert.

  “Whoa there, handsome.” He steadied me with one hand under my elbow, then stepped back to study me. “Am I reading things wrong here?”

  Yes. No. Fuck. A sigh broke my lips. “No… well, maybe…. It’s just… I’m not… I don’t… ugh.” Christ, what was I doing? I needed to get the hell away from him. A pair of fucking All Black selectors sat ten metres away on the other side of that door, not to mention two Super Rugby franchise teams, and my goddamn father, and here I was….

  I closed my eyes, desperate to ignore a body that seemed happy for any crumb this guy might throw its way. But it couldn’t happen, none of it. Nothing I wished for or dreamed about—or jerked off endlessly to in my freaking empty bed—could happen. There was too much at stake, and not just my rugby. I opened my eyes and found his gaze no longer amused but concerned. He stroked my cheek, and I couldn’t help but lean into it.

  “Hey, it’s okay,” he said.

  No, it really isn’t. I shook my head. “I’m sorry.” The wobble in my voice broke into a full-on stammer. “I j-just can’t… d-do this.” Fuck. I hadn’t done that since I was seventeen, the last time Dad had tried to take to me with his belt. I’d pushed him into the wall and ripped it out of his hands. The beatings had stopped, but there were a hundred other ways to hurt someone.

  Cam frowned and, damn, those eyebrows. Who knew that shit was sexy? I swallowed hard. “Look, don’t get me wrong. I want to—I really, really fucking want to—but….”

  “You’re not out, right.” Statement. “No surprise there, I would’ve heard something.” A frown creased his forehead.

  My cheeks bloomed, and I couldn’t hold his gaze. “Yeah. But you’re, um… just really beautiful… and, I wish….”

  “It’s okay. You sure you don’t want that cigarette?”

  His voice was warm and thick, and before I knew it, I’d leaned in and pressed my lips flush to his surprised ones. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Panic reared in my head, but it wasn’t enough to stop me.

  He startled, then responded with caution. It was brief, and sweet, and chaste, and it completely fucked up my entire world. I never wanted it to end, and when he pulled away, I chased his lips, but he held back, watching me closely. I couldn’t speak. Sweet Jesus, I couldn’t fucking move.

  He sighed, those long black lashes fluttering closed for a long minute, and I’d have given anything to know what was going on behind them. But when he opened them again, his gaze was infinitely more guarded.

  “I believe you were telling me what you really, really wanted, Reuben,” he said.

  I stared, terrified, every muscle in my touch-starved body aching to bridge the distance between us. He was so goddamn pretty, I could scarcely breathe. Christ, I wanted him. And with that single thought foremost in my idiot brain, I crashed my mouth over his and shoved him back against the shadowed wall he’d stepped out from. He hesitated just a second, stiff in my arms, but I cupped his face and held him in place, running my tongue along the crease of his lips, desperate to taste him, wanting inside, wanting more, so much more, wanting everything, but knowing I’d likely get nothing more than this moment.

  With a soft moan, Cam’s body relaxed against mine as he opened for me, and my tongue dived in, stroking, sucking, savouring every second. He tasted vaguely of red wine and sweet meringue. It was rich and heady, and I couldn’t get enough.

  He flipped our positions and ran his hands up my abdomen and across my chest, grazing my nipples through the cotton of my dress shirt. I whimpered, fucking whimpered, as the sensation ran straight to my dick, which was threatening to pop the zipper of my dress trousers any minute. I was close to coming in my pants from the kiss alone; if he actually fucking touched me, I’d be a goner.

  He seemed equally into it, thank God, reaching up to pull my hands from his face and lower them to his arse. Then he pushed his hips into mi
ne and circled in a deliciously slow grind. He was as hard as I was, and that bolstered my courage. I moved my lips to his neck and nipped the skin at the collar of that sexy-as-shit satin shirt, but he growled and pulled away, placing a hand on my chest.

  “Don’t. Fucking. Move,” he said, trailing a finger down my chest to my stomach, then lower, keeping his eyes steady on me all the while. And I didn’t move. I did exactly as he said. Anything to keep his hands on me. Hell, I’d have lain naked on the wet ground in the middle of the damn car park if he’d asked.

  “You’re so fucking sexy,” he crooned, pupils blown almost black in the half-lit shadow. “Look at you. Coiled tight, built like a fucking tank, and so damn eager. You blow my mind, Reuben Taylor. But I think one taste of you would never be enough, and that is a problem.”

  “We don’t have to….”

  “No, and we won’t. I don’t do closet cases, but fuck me if I don’t want in you like there’s no tomorrow.”

  Huh? The few times I’d done anal, only once had I not been the one doing the fucking. It hadn’t been the best experience, so I was kind of shocked by my body’s immediate and resounding yes. Well, shit.

  “Still.” He licked his lips. “Maybe just a taste….” He kicked my legs apart, dropping me to his level, stepped in and owned my mouth in a kiss that threatened to pull my balls through my tonsils. Jesus, who was this guy? For a dude who wore makeup, the man took no prisoners, and I wanted nothing more than to let him do whatever the hell he wanted. And yes, I was hoping that list was long.

  His hand snaked between us, cupping me, eliciting a groan the likes of which had never before fallen from my lips. I pushed myself into his hand, desperate for friction.

  He grinned against my lips. “Hold on, sweetheart. I’ve got you.” He pressed his lips to my neck and nipped lightly before soothing it with a lick.

  I groaned. “Shit, I’m… too close.”

  He found my zipper and drew it down nice and slow. “No. You’re gonna wait till I say, right?”

  My body fair thrummed in response. “Okay” was all I could manage. The firm heat of his grip had me biting the inside of my cheek, but he’d told me to wait, and I was gonna fucking wait if it killed me, which was looking increasingly likely. But he only got in a couple of slow strokes before light spilled across the car park and we both froze. Fuck.

  “Reuben, you out here?” Kevin Falcon, a teammate.

  Double fuck. I shoved Cam roughly, pushing him hard into the wall. He grunted. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I hauled up my zipper and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand before scrambling to put as much distance between the two of us as possible.

  Cam cursed, and I caught the word “bastard” before he stepped back into the light. I couldn’t meet his eyes, too afraid of the contempt I’d find there. Bastard? Yep, no doubt about it.

  My teammate rounded the corner. “Jesus, Reuben, what the hell are you doing out here? It’s fucking freezing. Jess said you’d ditched her. Are you nuts?”

  Then it came, that jolt of confused surprise when he saw I wasn’t alone, and again when he registered exactly who I was with. His gaze narrowed, flitting between the two of us. “What the fuck’s going on here?”

  My chest tightened in panic and my hands shook in my pockets, but I kept my gaze solid, my expression neutral. “I bummed a cigarette.”

  I looked to Cam, who held my gaze. From where Kevin stood, I hoped to hell he couldn’t see the graze on Cam’s cheek from the wall I’d just thrown him into. Jesus, I’m an arsehole. With his eyes locked on mine, we both knew he had the power to throw me under the bus right then and there with a single word, and hell if I didn’t deserve it. He looked pissed enough to be at least considering the option.

  Then he sighed, and I felt a glimmer of hope. He grabbed the pack of cigarettes from the wall, still holding my gaze and keeping his back to Kevin. “Yeah,” he said. “You should really give that shit up. Filthy habit.”

  The double entendre wasn’t lost on me.

  “Have a good one,” he added, keeping his back to the two of us as he walked out into the drizzle of the car park.

  I breathed a sigh of relief mingled with gutted disappointment.

  Kevin regarded me with suspicion. “What the fuck, Reuben? You know who that is?”

  I sighed. “Yeah, Kevin, I know.”

  “He’s a fucking fag, man.” He made no attempt to lower his voice, his lip curled in revulsion. “You want people thinking you like dick as well?”

  Cam’s head whipped around, and I winced inwardly, but there was nothing I could do.

  “I get it, okay?” I answered, louder than I’d meant to, and doing nothing to correct the jerk’s language. Cam flipped us both off with a disgusted look before continuing to a small red BMW. Fuck. My. Life.

  “Well?” Kevin pushed.

  “Well, what?” I raised my voice. “I bummed a cigarette from the guy. He didn’t suck me off, for Christ’s sake.” If only.

  Kevin stared at me for a moment, then relaxed. “Sorry, man. It’s just… you know. Guys like that piss me off. But say anything and the damn rugby bosses fuck with your contract or send you to sensitivity training.”

  Footsteps approached. “Reuben?”

  Son of a bitch. My father. Could this shitty evening get any worse?

  Kevin rolled his eyes. “He’s here, Mr Taylor. Just having a cigarette.”

  That Dad was a piece of work wasn’t lost on my teammates. Most felt sorry for me.

  My father’s expression was thunderous. “Thought you gave that shit up. You’ll never make an All Black, smoking that crap.”

  I rolled my eyes. “It was just one cigarette.”

  He slapped me up the back of the head. “Don’t be a smart-arse.”

  I stepped in closer, forcing him to look up at me. “Don’t. Fucking. Touch. Me.”

  He hesitated and took a step back. “Whatever. That girl said you followed Wano’s fag brother outside.” He scanned the car park.

  “He gave me a cigarette, end of story. You done? ’Cause I need to get back inside.”

  He stared at me hard, but I’d lied to my father for so long, about so much, I never even blinked.

  “Yeah, I’m done,” he said. “And damn right you need to get back inside. Those selectors want to see you. I had to put them off while I fucking tracked you down.” He stabbed his finger into my chest. “So get in there and sell your damn arse.”

  I grabbed his hand and shoved it away.

  “Hey,” Kevin said, glancing nervously between us, “when you’re done licking the selectors’ shoes, a few of us are heading to Max’s to continue the fun. I’ll snag that Jess bird for you on the way out. Could be a good evening.”

  “He’ll be there,” my father answered for me.

  Kevin glanced my way, and I shrugged. Fucking wonderful. But it was better than another minute with my father. I followed them both inside, doing my best not to let my gaze wander to the corner of the car park where a small BMW sat with the driver’s window open and a thin trail of smoke wove its way skyward.

  More from Jay Hogan

  A Digging Deep Story

  Drake Park has a complicated life. As a gay male midwife, he’s used to raising eyebrows. Add Crohn’s disease and things get interesting—or not, considering the sad state of his love life. Experience has taught Drake that most men are fair-weather sailors when it comes to handling his condition—gone for dust when things get rough. Staying healthy is a full-time job without adding in any heartbreak, so a little loneliness is a small price to pay. If he says it often enough he might even believe it. One thing for sure, the cop who arrested him isn’t about to change that.

  Caleb Ashton does not have a complicated life. A senior detective with the Whangarei Police Department, he likes his job and is good at it. He works hard and plays hard, happy to enjoy as many men as he can while he’s still young enough—or at least he was. These days he feels adrift for the first time in his life, and the onl
y thing sparking his interest—a certain prickly young midwife.

  But can Drake find enough faith to risk opening his heart again? And does Caleb have what it takes to cope with the challenges Drake’s condition presents?

  Readers love Crossing the Touchline by Jay Hogan

  “These guys are the kind of characters that stick with you long after the happily ever after. This book had me up way too late because I just could not put it down.”

  —Paranormal Romance Guild

  “Be sure to check out Crossing the Touchline if you’re looking for a book with depth, lots of emotions, some great sports scenes, and a wonderful romance.”

  —Diverse Reader

  “It had me glued to the pages and heaving a huge sigh of relief at the hard-earned happy ending.”

  —Rainbow Book Reviews

  JAY HOGAN is a New Zealand author writing in m/m romance, romantic suspense, and fantasy. She has travelled extensively and has lived in the US, Canada, France, Australia, and South Korea. She has a BA degree in nursing and in theology, and in another life, she was an intensive care nurse, counselor, and a lecturer.

  She is a cat aficionado, especially Maine Coons, and an avid dog lover (but don’t tell the cat). She loves to cook (pretty damn well), loves to sing (pretty damn average), and as for loving full-time writing—absolutely… depending of course on the day, the word count, the deadline, how obliging her characters are, the ambient temperature in the Western Sahara, whether Jupiter is rising, the size of the ozone hole over New Zealand, and how much coffee she’s had.

  Her characters and stories are rarely straightforward, and even surprise Jay. She does her best to plot things out ahead of time, but those guys often have a mind of their own. Go figure.

  You can find Jay at:

  Facebook: www.facebook.com/JayHoganAuthor