Nathan’s other hand drifted from his back to his waist, then up again, as if it wasn’t certain where to linger. James straightened enough to see Nathan’s face. To see the concern and confusion in his coffee-colored eyes. Nathan licked his lips, probably without meaning to, and James’s pulse raced.
This isn’t real. He’ll do anything for you, because you’ll do anything for him, so don’t take advantage, you giant douche.
He told his conscience to take a flying fuck, and he did the exact wrong thing. He pressed his lips lightly against Nathan’s and stopped. Waited. Instead of pulling away, Nathan held steady, just like he had in college. Except no one had dared him this time, and they were alone. Nothing to prove to anyone.
Adrenaline and arousal zinged through James, wrapped up in the fog of alcohol, demanding he take this further. Turn it into a real kiss before his chance was gone.
Just one real kiss.
James closed his eyes and slanted his head for a better angle. Nathan moved, warm lips whispering against his. Reacting to the most natural act on earth. James parted his lips and gently flicked his tongue against Nathan’s mouth. He caught the faint flavor of bourbon and chips, and something behind that. Something all Nathan. His gut tightened with want. He clutched the back of Nathan’s thin shirt, part of him wishing they were naked in a bed somewhere so he could taste every inch of Nathan. Lick him until he was moaning with desire. Swallow his cock down. Suck him. Make him come so hard he’d never want another lover.
Nathan gasped into his mouth as if he’d heard all of James’s plans. He clutched James’s hip, then let go, uncertain. James fumbled for Nathan’s hand and gave it a firm squeeze before putting it back on his hip, liking it there. James slid his right hand down over soft flannel to grab Nathan’s ass. Nathan groaned and jerked, his free hand threading into James’s hair—to pull him off or keep him there, it didn’t matter, because Nathan tasted so good and James didn’t want it to end.
Except Nathan ripped away from him, his cheeks flushed and his lips wet. He pressed a palm to James’s chest.
“You’re drunk, Jay,” Nathan said. “You’re drunk and you’re hurting, and this isn’t what you want.”
“I don’t?” He was pretty sure he did, but only if Nathan wanted it, too, and he didn’t look like he did anymore.
“No, you don’t. You can’t.”
“But you feel so good, Nate. Taste good, too, and not just like bourbon.”
Nathan lifted a hand toward his face, and James leaned into the touch that never came because Nathan dropped his hand. “I think you need to go to bed and sleep this off.”
“Bed sounds good.” He reached for Nathan again, all spaghetti arms and determination, and he got a solid face-plant on the sofa. Being horizontal started shutting down some of his higher brain function, because he suddenly couldn’t quite recall why he was on the couch and not in a bed.
“Roll over.”
“Woof.”
“Jesus, you’re wasted.”
“I know you are, but what am I?”
“For fuck’s sake.”
Arms rolled James onto his back. He reached for the shape looming over him, only to get the corner of a blanket in his mouth. Flat on his back felt nice. Swimmy. Everything all swirly and floaty.
“Nothing happened with us tonight, Jay,” Nathan said. “It was all a really nice dream.”
James tried to protest, but the light went off and Nathan was gone. He was alone again, on the one night when he didn’t want to sleep alone.
Moonlight glinted off the bottle of amber liquid left behind on the coffee table. His sister’s cries filled the too-quiet room.
Just one more shot...
Don’t miss Getting It Right by A.M. Arthur,
available wherever books are sold.
Copyright © 2015 by A.M. Arthur
Also available from A.M. Arthur
Unearthing Cole,
a Discovering Me novella
He only came back to get her ashes; he never
thought he’d find a reason to stay.
Cole Alston swore he’d never return to his childhood home in rural North Carolina—until he inherits his mother’s hoarded property. He hopes to sell everything and use the money to start over in Canada, far away from his abusive ex-boyfriend. It’s a daunting task, and Cole has no idea where to start.
Luckily for him, the local antique store owner, Jeremy Collins, offers his services in sorting and selling the hoard in exchange for a fee. Their chemistry soon turns their professional relationship into a personal one, but Cole must overcome his past and his anxiety before he can accept a new man in his life.
Or the possibility of a happy future.
Keep reading for an excerpt from Lucky Break by A.M. Arthur.
Lucky Break
by A.M. Arthur
Chapter One
Shawn Matthews glanced at the kitchen clock every few minutes while he worked, watching the long hand tick down the final two hours of his first season as sous chef of the Tango Saloon, a grim reaper inching closer and closer to Shawn’s doom. Okay, so maybe doom was melodramatic, but today was the saloon’s last day open for over two months, and Shawn had nowhere to go for the upcoming holidays.
“Eighty-sixing the buffalo burger,” his boss, Miles Arlington, said from his position at the sizzling flattop. Their server, Annabelle, had just come back to fetch two slices of Vinegar pie, and she repeated what he’d said.
“I’ll hard-sell the chili and Hangtown Fry,” Annabelle said as she left the kitchen through the swinging double doors with her pie order.
Normally, eighty-sixing a dish from the menu this early, especially a dish as popular as Miles’s buffalo burger, would have annoyed them all on a Sunday afternoon. But they’d underordered supplies this weekend so they wouldn’t have too many leftovers when the saloon shut down for winter break. As it was, Shawn was down to one whole Vinegar pie, only a dozen biscuits, and three final slices of Mock Apple pie.
“Are you sure you’re okay coming in tomorrow for a few hours to clean?” Miles asked after checking the temperature of his final burger. “I don’t want to interrupt your plans, but I figured it would be easier than scrubbing the place down tonight after we’ve both cooked all day.”
“Don’t mind at all,” Shawn replied, and he really didn’t. It gave him somewhere to be for part of his day. The rest of the ten-ish weeks that the saloon would be closed? No idea, and he wasn’t looking forward to living in his car all that time. “It’ll be weird being up here without guests, though.”