“And eaten by werewolves?”
“Silver-coated thresholds and window frames. Got that covered.”
Samir stared at him, then grinned. “Really?”
“I thought it added a nice touch.”
“Would also keep a werewolf in, right?”
Holy crap, he so was into this, and Anthony loved it. Samir just took an idea like that and ran with it, and now he wished he had actually had them silver coated, because it was damn cool and would add to his eccentric persona. “Hmm, good point. But anyone who’s here wants to be. Or they found their way in through the secret back passage.”
Samir almost spat his wine. “Come again?”
“What?”
“The secret-passage thing.”
Well, if Anthony’d initially had a shot at pretending he hadn’t caught the less innocent interpretation of this exchange, it was blown by the heat in his face, showing up right on time as always. He coughed and lifted his wineglass to his lips. “I suppose now would be a bad time to ask if you wanted to check it out.”
“Oh, I do!”
Anthony blinked.
So did Samir.
“I meant ...” Anthony waved at the south end of the house, almost spilling his wine in the process. “The house. Corridor. Passage. Thing.”
“Of course. So did I.” Samir swirled his own wine. “Where does it lead, anyway?”
“There used to be an old barn on the property. About a hundred feet from the house.”
“Used to be?”
Anthony nodded. “Had this gorgeous rustic look about it too. I really wanted to keep it, but there was some damage to the foundation. From an earthquake or something, I guess. So I had to tear it down.”
“Bummer. You going to rebuild it?”
“Maybe eventually. I’ll build something there, at least. Or just leave the passageway as kind of a doorway to nowhere in case I ever need to escape an angry mob.”
Samir laughed. “Do I get to hide here if I piss off all your fans?”
You can hide here anytime you want.
“Absolutely. I wouldn’t just throw you to the wolves.”
Samir winced. “Really?”
“Oh, come on. It was there.”
“Ugh. And I thought some of your characters came up with bad puns.”
“What? Those aren’t bad.”
“They’re terrible!”
“Uh-huh.” Anthony picked up the bottle to top off his wine. “I didn’t notice any lack of them in your book.”
Samir shrugged and slid his glass across the island. “I was just going along with the established canon. Horrific as it might’ve been.”
“Mm-hmm.”
Anthony filled both their glasses again. In spite of his well-stocked liquor cabinet and enough wine to last through the zombie apocalypse, he wasn’t much of a drinker, and he’d gone through that first glass pretty quickly. His head was already getting a little light.
Awesome. He had an attractive, playful man in his house, and he was buzzed off a single glass of wine. That was going to end well.
“So what did you add to the house?” Samir looked around as if he could see where the old ended and the new began. “Did you just gut it and start over, or ...?”
“This is all new.” Anthony tilted his glass toward the wine cellar. “That’s about the only original piece of this part of the house. The south end is almost entirely original though.” He grinned. “Want to see the library?”
“Sure!”
The way Samir’s eyes lit up made Anthony’s pulse race. Someone who got that excited about a room full of books?
Never, ever leave, Samir.
He gestured for Samir to follow. “This way.”
And onward through the living room he’d set up already. Samir’s steps slowed, his gaze stopping on the crackling fire and the inviting faux bearskin rug stretched out on the floor. His eyebrow quirked, but he didn’t say anything, and Anthony didn’t ask what was on his mind. Besides, he was too busy pushing thoughts out of his own mind that involved that rug and—
He shook his head and kept walking. He led Samir into the old part of the house, which was largely original, but had still ended up getting heavily modified. The two-story, wall-to-wall, ceiling-to-floor custom carved wooden shelving had cost an absolute fortune with all the polished brass—and almost the same amount again to fill it up with books. Even though he’d been a collector for most of his life, this was just an insane amount of space and his collection had almost looked a little lost in here. He was thankful Chas had told him of a number of sci-fi and fantasy bookstores going out of business, and he’d acquired their whole stock, plus a friend of his had retired from running a rare and used bookstore, leaving him over a hundred boxes or so of first editions in crime, sci-fi, and fantasy.
Samir stared and turned around in place, taking it all in. With the few desks upstairs on the halfway level, the library lamps with their dark green screens, and a number of sofas, Anthony had always assumed ten or more writers could happily go about their business here without disturbing any of the others.
“You’d win first prize in any library porn Tumblr I’ve ever seen,” Samir said.
“Second, maybe. There are some good private libraries out there. It’s a nice place to write too, but I do prefer the office. Which doesn’t have nearly as many distractions. Especially since there’s no internet up there.”
“No internet?”
“I got an engineer to block access in that room. It’s a Wi-Fi dead zone. I have to be able to vanish completely into a book, or it’s not getting done.” Anthony winced. “Not that it has helped recently.”
Samir eyed the nearest couch, and Anthony’s hormones spiked. Yes, we could try that couch and fuck surrounded by books.
He cleared his throat. “I won’t live long enough to read everything in here, but I like having the greats in the house.”
“No, I get it. I have tons of them too. And if my place were any larger, I’d have more in paper rather than e-book format.”
They stood there, and the silence and the proximity of the couch and Samir played funny tricks on Anthony’s mind, because the look Samir gave him was hot and suggestive. Here was a guy who could write some scorching porn—the kind that pushed all of Anthony’s buttons—and knowing that didn’t make staying the responsible adult any easier. Samir was legal, damn it, but he was still a fan, and for all the casual hookups in a number of places (though never at conventions), Anthony had never slept with a fan.
He usually made sure that the other guy had no idea who he was. It would just be too strange, and God knew what the other fans would make of it. In the days of the internet, his performance in bed might end up getting discussed across all the Triple Moon boards. That thought alone had made him stay away even from the idea of bedding a fan. Until Samir. This was getting more difficult by the moment.
“So, about that secret passage?” Samir gave him another suggestive look.
“Right. It’s, um, this way.” Anthony led him out of the library, and didn’t dare make eye contact. Not with his head spinning so fast from the wine and his current company. Now would’ve been a really good time to get his act together, but, yeah, right.
They took the stairs down to the basement and into the game room.
“Holy fuck, I see what you mean about the carpet.” Samir eyed the bizarre, retina-scorching pattern. “Who the hell thought that would be a good idea?”
“My best guess is someone who was abducted by color-blind aliens during an acid trip.”
Samir snorted. “Please tell me you’re going to work that into a story.”
“Think I should?”
“I think you owe it to the universe as penance for harboring this.” He gestured sharply at the brightly colored whorls and loops beneath their feet.
“Don’t worry, it’s only in this room. Come on.” They crossed the hideous floor to two doors. One went to a closet where Anthony stored crap he hadn
’t even seen in three or four years. The other led into the passageway.
He turned the dead bolt and pulled open the door. Cool air came from the other side, which was a convenient enough excuse for the goose bumps that had suddenly materialized under his sleeves as Samir went in ahead of him.
Anthony flicked on the light. The passageway was constructed out of brick, and painted white, which made it easier for the bare lightbulbs to illuminate the whole thing. Samir wandered a few feet in, and Anthony followed.
The door banged shut behind them.
Samir jumped, spinning on his heel. “What was—”
“It’s okay. The door won’t stay open on its own, but I have the—” Anthony’s eyes widened as he felt his pockets. “Uh.”
“Please tell me you have the key.”
“I, um ...”
Samir’s eyes were huge.
Anthony laughed. “I’m just messing with you. The door doesn’t lock from this side.”
“Ass.” Samir shook his head and resumed checking out his surroundings. As he turned, his brow furrowed. “Why do I feel like I’ve been here before?”
“You do?”
“Yeah, it’s really familiar.” Samir glanced at him. “Have you ever posted pictures of it somewhere? Maybe an author photo?”
“No, but that’s a damned good idea.” Anthony looked around. “I should do my author photos down here.”
Samir chuckled. “You should. But no, seriously, I feel like—” He stopped, teeth snapping shut. “Oh.”
“What?”
“Uh, well. I’ve never seen it, but let’s just say ...” Samir laughed softly, and his startled expression turned to something a little different. Sly, maybe. Devilish. Shit, yes. Definitely devilish. He met Anthony’s eyes. “Let’s just say you’re really, really good at describing settings.”
“Huh?” Anthony glanced around. He’d never used this place in any of the Triple Moon books. In fact, he’d completely wasted the opportunity to use this as a setting for anything except—
Oh.
Oh.
“This is where you set ‘All In’, isn’t it?” The playful lilt in Samir’s voice had an undercurrent that made Anthony’s heart race.
He gulped. Then nodded. “Yeah. I’d forgotten about that.”
“Forgotten?” Samir took a step closer to Anthony. “I don’t see how you could forget about that scene.”
“Well, it’s been a long time since I wrote it. I wrote that one, um, years ago. I think. It’s been—”
“You think the light fixtures would really support handcuffs?” Samir looked thoughtfully at one of the sconces and its faded bare bulbs. “They do seem pretty solidly anchored.”
“I ... I’ve never tested them.”
Well that was just asking for it.
And Samir delivered—he flashed Anthony the filthiest, most loaded grin ever, sending Anthony’s pulse into the stratosphere. And the dim, atmospheric light didn’t help, deepening the shadows of Samir’s sharp features while still picking out that playful sparkle in his eyes.
Anthony’s heart beat like mad. He’d never even considered using this place for an actual encounter with someone. He’d needed something dark and creepy for that story, and it had come to mind that night and seemed like a perfect spot.
But now—hell, would those sconces hold up with someone pulling hard against a set of handcuffs?
And when the fuck had Samir gotten so close to him?
Anthony stepped back, but the cool bricks stopped him. “I take it you liked that story?”
Samir nodded. “I read it twice.”
“Only twice, and the setting stuck out that much? I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“To tell you the truth, I didn’t really notice the setting while I was reading it.” He narrowed the space between them to just a sliver of cool underground air. “Not really noticing it right now, either.”
Though he was shocked stupid, a million thoughts raced through Anthony’s brain, and few of them made sense. I’m way too old for you. I don’t fuck fans. Don’t turn into a crazy stalker, please. Of all the places, here? But I put the fire on in the living room.
He was planning to be reasonable and tell Samir that this wasn’t going to happen, when Samir put his hand flat on Anthony’s chest and came closer. Body to body. Samir leaned in a bit more, his eyes right in front of Anthony’s, searching something in his gaze—permission? Maybe. It might feel risky, yes, but Anthony couldn’t possibly tell himself he didn’t want this. He did see Samir a lot more like a fellow writer than a fan—they just happened to write in the same world. And that would make things right, right?
Samir’s eyes slid shut, and there—a sweet, tentative kiss that had Anthony pushed against the wall in the passage under his own house, and all he could think was finally, and oh God, he’s cute. And sweet. And sexy. And—uh, pushy. Samir pressed against him, and their bodies rubbed together in all the right places.
This was getting very intense very quickly, but Anthony didn’t mind at all. He kissed back and put his arms around Samir for that first, nearly fumbling type of kiss, when they were still working out how the other would respond.
“I ...” Anthony came up for air. “I really think ...”
“Don’t tell me no, please?”
“I just think we shouldn’t do this down here.”
“What, kissing?” Samir winked. He took off his glasses, and met Anthony’s eyes again. Jesus. Pupils blown, the whole man vibrating with energy. Need? Possibly. If Anthony’s own body was any indication.
“Kissing and whatever else you have in mind.”
“Don’t tell me you didn’t.”
“You’re a smart guy. You probably know all the reasons why we shouldn’t.”
“Secret boyfriend stashed away in the attic?”
“No, the others.”
Samir shook his head. “Don’t care.”
Well then. Kids these days. “Upstairs?”
“Like that room with the fire?” Samir’s grin told him he’d seen right through the setup. “Bearskin rug and all?”
“Fake bearskin, thank you. But it’s better than a cold drafty place where two guys would only do it if one were handcuffed.”
“Let me get my bag and I’ll see about that.”
Oh. God.
“Let’s ...” Anthony ran his fingers through Samir’s hair, and his own thoughts were gone. “I ...”
Samir slowly drew the tip of his tongue along the inside of his lip. To hell with it—this was as good a place as any right now. Curling his fingers against Samir’s scalp, Anthony drew him into another kiss. The wall kept him upright, but between the kiss and the wine, Anthony kept getting dizzier. He held Samir closer, and when Samir pulled in a sharp breath through his nose, Anthony realized he’d been tightening his grip. He did it deliberately this time, tugging enough to make sure it stung, and he thought Samir damn near melted.
Anthony broke the kiss again. “Upstairs.”
“Up ...” Samir met his eyes, staring blankly at him as if someone had done a Ctrl+Alt+Del on his brain. “Where upstairs?”
Anthony kissed him once more, briefly this time, and then nudged him back a step, though he kept a hand on his waist to support both of them, since Samir didn’t seem steady on his feet either. Anthony took him by the hand and led him out of the passageway.
The game room suddenly seemed ten times bigger than it really was, as if kissing in the tunnel had had the same effect as one of those cakes in Alice in Wonderland. Suddenly they were tiny and the world around them was huge and it took for-fucking-ever to get from one end of the room to the other. The stairs too. God, why hadn’t he just bought a condo or something? One of those places where no matter where someone stood, the bed was never more than twenty feet away.
Screw the bed, though. That was entirely too far. He led Samir into the living room where the fire was still flickering brightly in front of the thick fake bearskin rug.
&n
bsp; There, he turned Samir around to face him. “This seems a bit more enticing than downstairs, don’t you think?”
“I don’t fucking care.” Samir tossed his glasses onto the coffee table, and then kissed him hard, combing his fingers through Anthony’s hair and pressing their bodies together again. “I’d do this in a damned snowstorm.”
Anthony didn’t care either. The warmth of the fire and the house was nice, and the bearskin would be a hell of a lot more comfortable than bricks, but with the way Samir was kissing him now, pushing his lips apart and demanding access to his mouth, the underground tunnel would’ve been just fine. Even the cool air would’ve been moot with Samir’s body—hot in more ways than one—against his.
Cradling Samir’s face in both hands, Anthony broke away again to catch his breath. “This isn’t why I sent you the fic. Promise.”
“Doesn’t matter.” Samir’s hand drifted down and slid over the front of Anthony’s jeans. “After everything we talked about online, that was just”—his nails dragged along the zipper—“a good icebreaker.”
So it was. Anthony exhaled, closing his eyes as Samir’s fingers and palm teased him through the thick denim. “Didn’t realize you were so aggressive.”
The hand lightened slightly, and Samir tensed. “Is that—”
“I didn’t say it was a bad thing.” Anthony put his hand over Samir’s and pushed it against his groin. “Just an— Jesus. Just an observation.” He really liked the touch. Loved it, in fact. And maybe Samir being so pushy would help him get over the whole You’re taking advantage of a fan guilt-trip that was trying to kick off in his head. So maybe he was going to sleep with a fan. The fan in question was obviously on board and in control. And it wasn’t like Anthony would make a habit of it, right?
He ran his hands along Samir’s sides to his back, enjoying all that lean strength and heat under his palms and fingertips. Samir grinned and kissed him again, his hand squeezing a bit harder now.
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