MIDNIGHT HEAT by Sarah Grimm

MIDNIGHT HEAT by Sarah Grimm

Black Phoenix Book 2

The unconscious man wheeled into Dr. Rebecca Dahlman’s ER is sexy—devilishly sexy—and injured. This isn’t just any patient in need of medical help. He is the only man she’s ever loved—the one who still haunts her dreams.

Black Phoenix bassist Dominic Price made a mistake three years ago when he walked out on Rebecca. A mistake he plans to rectify. But first he has to convince her to open her heart to him again.

One touch of his calloused hands reignites their passion. Can they rekindle their trust as easily, or will her fears cause her to lose him again…this time to a man bent on revenge?

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Chapter One

“Forty-year-old male MVC victim,” the medic shouted as he and his partner pushed the stretcher through the doors and into the emergency department. “SUV versus semi. SUV rolled multiple times before stopping to land on its passenger side.”

Adrenaline surged through Dr. Rebecca Dahlman’s system, revving her pulse, pushing away the fatigue of an overly long shift. It worked better than the half pot of coffee she’d already consumed.

“Upon arrival at the scene, patient was unresponsive. We were able to get the c-collar on him right away, but had to wait for the Jaws of Life to extricate.”

Gown and gloves in place, Rebecca ran her gaze over the unconscious man strapped to the backboard with orange belts as they swung into room one and transferred him to the ER’s gurney. Her team, already assembled in the trauma room, moved efficiently around the patient, cutting off his clothes with trauma shears, starting large bore IVs and getting vital signs.

The medic continued feeding her pertinent information as she began her assessment. “Blood pressure is one-twenty over seventy-five, pulse ninety-five. Pulse ox is one hundred percent on room air. Pupils—dilated, equal, and reactive.”

The guy was a mess. Blood covered his face, soaked the left side of his head and shoulder of his shirt. He had a laceration on his left upper arm; deep enough to require sutures, and some bruises were already beginning to form at his left shoulder and right hip from the seatbelt doing its job of holding him in place. Even more troubling was the bruise forming on his right side, a sign of rib trauma. Ribs weren’t the only common injuries from impact with the center console. The ones she couldn’t see were what caused her the most concern.

“I want an ultrasound of the abdomen,” Rebecca stated automatically as she shifted closer and listened to her patient’s chest. Lungs clear, respirations even and non-labored, heart tones audible not muffled and no abnormal rhythm. Good, no internal chest trauma. She looped her stethoscope around her neck and leaned in, searching the man’s scalp for head trauma. “Get me a cross-table C-spine, chest and pelvis x-ray. Draw a full trauma panel, type and cross, and a urine tox screen.”

Karmen Williams, Rebecca’s best friend and charge nurse for the night, pulled the man’s wallet from the pile of clothes on the floor. “Rebecca.”

Directly above his left ear Rebecca uncovered the source of all the blood. Pushing her fingers into his hair, she palpated the injury site. The wound immediately began to bleed again. “No skull fracture that I can detect.”

“Rebecca.”

“I’ll want a CT scan of the head and neck.”

“Rebecca.” Karmen’s voice was tight and pulled her attention. “It’s Dominic.”

For a moment, a heartbeat really, the words didn’t make sense. Then, she looked closer at the lifeless man on the gurney. As if in slow motion, Rebecca dragged her gaze up the torso, locked it onto the face partially hidden behind long, blood-soaked black hair. Her breath snagged in her throat and she froze, the echo of her pulse beating in her ears. It was a struggle to keep her hand steady as she pushed his wavy hair away from his face and focused on his mouth, those lips, the bottom one slightly fuller than the top, the thin, straight nose.

“Stud,” she whispered, her voice torn.

His eyes were closed, ringed in thick black lashes. Were they open they would be the color of the sky just after a cleansing rain.

Her world tilted.

No. It couldn’t be. This wasn’t him. Dominic didn’t have a goatee or a scar across his right clavicle. Dominic wasn’t in California, he was in London. Safe in London.

Not unconscious and bleeding in the middle of her ER.

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AFTERSHOCK by Desiree Holt

AFTERSHOCK by Desiree Holt

Determined to shake off her past, Sydney Alexander plans to seize the day when it comes to handling PR for Lightin’ the blazing star rising on the rock scene. Rick Trajean, Lightnin’s lead, torches her all business all the time mantra when the sizzling chemistry between them ignites brighter more than the band’s popularity.

As Lightnin’ scorches the charts, Rick and Sydney burn up the sheets. But can their passion handle the pressure of the music business? Not everyone is happy with Lightnin’s success and when the vindictiveness so common in the business threatens to destroy the band, their tour and the love Rick and Sydney found in each other, their powerhouse may come crashing down. What’s left when it does?

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Excerpt:

She was still buzzed from the evening when she checked into the hotel. Lightnin’ happened to be at registration at the same time and their excitement was palpable. Even Danny and Garrett came over and gave her a hug. They all rode up in the elevator together, the guys still high on excitement, laughing and bumping fists. Except for Rick, who was strangely silent.

They got off at the same floor she did and she discovered they were in the same section of the hallway. She was shocked to discover Rick’s was right next to hers. She slid a glance at him, stunned to see him watching her, a ravenous look in his eyes. She couldn’t mistake the desire in his gaze. Did he want her to join him? Should she ask him if he wanted to come into her room? What was the protocol here?

Unsettled, she fumbled with the key card and dropped it in her nervous haste to get inside. She wasn’t aware he had moved until he was beside her, taking the card from her fingers. He slid it into the slot and, when the lock light turned green he pushed the door open.

“Here you go.” He held the door back with his body and waited for her to enter.

“Th-Thank you.”

She moved past him, rolling her suitcase in and turned to him. Before she had time to say a word he grabbed her arms, turned her to face him and pressed her against the door.

“I’ve been wanting to do this all day.” His voice was heavy with a combination of emotion and desire. “I think tonight calls for a celebration, don’t you?”

Speech deserted her and all she could do was nod. She wanted him, this man who had exploded into her life. More than she wanted her next breath. She was hungry for him with a passion that never seemed to leave her. Sydney cupped the roughness of his late night beard with her hands, loving the scratchy feel of it.

She tilted her face up just the least little bit to accommodate him as his mouth came down on hers. The minute their lips met, heat surged through her, as if someone had lit a match to her blood. She clutched at his shoulders to steady herself, knowing she should break away even as her body cried for more. She was drowning in him, his heat and scent invading her. And all she could think was more, more, more.

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KISS ME LIKE YOU MEAN IT by Mahalia Levey

KISS ME LIKE YOU MEAN IT by Mahalia Levey

Kiss Me Series Book Three

One gigantic mistake threatens to bring Carlie Steven’s world crumbling down. Everywhere she turns she’s faced with reminders of the drunken moment leaving her friendless, expelled from her Ivy League College. With Jackson out of the country singing for the troops, his empty home will give her the breathing room she needs while coming up with a game plan to fix her situation.

Playing guitar used to be enough for Jackson Laurant. For years he’s played the part of not giving a fuck. Too many one night stands in the bag leave him wanting what his two friends have found. With only a handful of shows left on the tour, his mind wanders to the off limits Carlie Stevens. For years, he’s denied the brewing attraction. When he finds she’s taken up residence in his home. He may have the in he’s wanted for too many years to count.BUY THE eBOOK *** READ THE EXCERPT

Excerpt 1

“Here comes the skank.”

Carlie cringed from the crushing words her frenemies hurled at her as she passed them on her way to the main office. She slung her backpack over her shoulder and squeezed past the football jocks taking up all the space on the steps. The males leered at her making her feel even dirtier than she already did.

Two weeks ago she led a normal life. Two weeks ago no one avoided her like she had a contagious disease. Jenny and Lisa brushed into her, nearly knocking her down. After she righted herself, the scathing looks sent her way caused her stomach to roll. The same Kappa sorority sisters who were with her the entire spring break trip in Mexico left her to fend for herself.

“Could my life suck any worse?” In low spirits, she trudged up the stairs, ignoring the whispers and stares along the way. Her footsteps echoed in the near empty hall as she began the walk of shame into the dean’s office. She opened the door and was immediately greeted by the secretary, Mrs. Robard.

“Ms. Stevens, Dean Wallace will be with you shortly. Please take a seat.”

While Mrs. Robard didn’t openly state her displeasure, the curt tone of her dismissive voice spoke volumes. Right then she wished she could call Carrie and ask for advice. Shame prevented her from reaching out for what she desperately needed, her sister. So she sat in utter misery waiting to find out what the outcome of her actions would cost her. Tears of frustration welled up. To forestall the panic rising within her, she swallowed past the lump in her throat, closed her eyes to center herself and regulated her breathing.

“Ms. Stevens…Ms. Stevens.”

“Huh? I mean yes, Dean Wallace.”

“Please follow me into my office and have a seat.” The dean held the door open for her to slip through. Carlie settled into the chair in front of his massive desk as he shuffled behind to sit down. Closer to her age group than the last dean, she hoped he’d look past her error in judgment. She was one of his star pupils and had never strayed from her educational goals. As V.P. of her sorority, she held fast to their code of conduct rules. As such, she enforced them herself with the new pledges and her current sisters.

“Sir, I know I made a huge mistake on spring break. I have never acted in that manner before and I promise you it’ll never happen again. I’m really sorry for the disturbance and negative publicity the school has received from the media.”

“Carlie.” The dean sighed and steepled his fingers.

Frustration radiated from him as he struggled to pick the right words. His unease made her shift uncomfortably under his curt appraisal.

“I know all about peer pressure and being young. I am sorely disappointed in your choice of behavior, not only because now when people see you they will not see the bright girl who has a promising future, but the girl who broke rules and protocol, who posed nude in a cheap rag magazine.”

“I know this—”

“I’m not finished. You posed in a wet sorority shirt bought here in our campus store.”

“In my defense I was really drunk. We all were. Jenny and Lisa were with me. I don’t understand why I’m taking all the heat.”

“Did Jenny or Lisa pose?”

“No, but…” She wanted to tell him about the mud wrestling tournament the three of them won during that trip. They were videotaped receiving their prizes and got pictures taken as well.

“Did Jenny or Lisa sign a contract giving legal permission to use them?”

“No, but there has to be a way to protect me, make that magazine accountable for shady tactics. I’d never have made the choices I made that day sober. They took advantage of me.”

“Ms. Stevens. No one forced alcohol down your throat or made you continue to drink. You are still responsible for your actions. We take our code of conduct serious here. You’ve not only opened yourself up for expulsion, but also ridicule from your peers. I’ve heard the slurs on campus already, the pictures posted in the common areas. You cannot run from this, I’m afraid and we cannot afford or tolerate the media explosion your actions have brought about.”

“What exactly are you saying? Am I expelled?” Her voice cracked and she forced a straight face needing to have some sort of control, although it was a false sense of security.

“At this time the only recourse is for you to leave this school. We are willing to allow you to set up online courses to finish out this semester so you don’t draw incompletes. I will also write you a letter of recommendation to another school of your choice.”

Dean Wallace dropped a bomb. Her mind struggled to comprehend his words. She’d dreamed of graduating from this school, like her mother had. As a Darthmore legacy, she had a place in the upper hierarchy in the alumni once she graduated. She worked hard to maintain her perfect grade point average. “I will do anything you ask of me but please do not kick me out. I don’t know how I’m going to explain this to my mom and dad. I don’t know where to go.”

Excerpt 2

The smell of ocean welcomed him. He stepped out of his service car, hoisted his backpack and clicked the handle on his suitcase. Why carry something that had rollers. The house was dark in the early afternoon, making him wonder if he still had a houseguest.

He entered and placed his things in the foyer. Emotions long forgotten tugged at him. Every time he stepped foot in his childhood house, he expected to see his mother come down the stairs to greet him with a warm smile on her face, smelling like an afternoon spent baking. And, as always, reality cruelly crashed down, reminding him of fate’s viciousness. With a sigh, he looked toward the staircase. Carlie. Carlie. Carlie.

Jackson walked up the stairs, toward his bedroom, noting how everything looked to be in in place, as if Carlie didn’t dare disturb anything. He passed by his mom’s bedroom, now a guest room. He ruminated on things, what to say, what would her reaction be to seeing him?

What he loved most about flying was sleeping, but thanks to one overprotective brother he barely rested at all, with his mind obsessing over the sweet woman in his bed.

A foul odor hit his nose upon opening the door to his bedroom. He ignored the stink and approached his bed covered in chocolate wrappers, empty bags of fast food and the girl sleeping on top of the covers in the same clothes he saw her in online while he was in Afghanistan.

Garrick always boasted of his ‘sleep like the dead’ sisters. He decided to test out the theory. He tapped her and got nothing. He picked her up. Her head lolled over, a halo of hair fanning out. A loud snore popped out of her mouth. He tried to smooth her tangled hair out of the way and carried her into his bathroom. With one hand, he turned on the shower and stepped into the cold water fully dressed, holding her.

Carlie screamed. Her beautiful eyes popped opened as she came to and began thrashing in his arms.

“Sorry, princess. You need a shower, you stink.” Jackson whipped her soaking wet shirt over her head and unsnapped her bra with one hand while she shivered and glared daggers at him. He bent down and whisked off her leggings and thong, and then threw all the pieces out of the shower.

“What are you doing?” Carlie hissed the words thorough chattering teeth. She gave up attempting to cover her nudity with her hands and wiped her plastered hair away from her eyes.

“Right now I’m standing in my shower under freezing water with a smelly girl.” He reached up and adjusted the blasts to give them warm water. Jackson stepped out to get a clean cloth and returned to her. Her skin flushed with the steam pouring through the glass enclosed shower.

“I mean what are you doing home?”

He chuckled. “I didn’t know I needed permission to come to my house.” He grabbed his body wash and lathered up the cloth.

“I swear I’m going to kill you for tossing me in a cold shower.” Anger blazed in her flushed face as she stared him down.

“That’s good then, means you’re no longer cowering in your stupid self-pity party.”

“What, are you going to do with that?” She eyed him nervously, ignoring his words.

“Well, I figured your hands must be broken or something so I’d wash you, since you can’t do so yourself.”

“Uh-uh, no way. Give me that.” She tugged at the sudsy cloth in his hand, his gaze dropping to her lush breasts.

“Nice.” He winked at the way they bounced with her efforts to take the wash rag. He let her have the wet cloth and watched the recoil, suds covering her chin, dripping down her neck, between the valley of her tits, and the path downward. Damn she was in great shape.

“Get. Out.” She pointed to the door, her face flushing a deep red.

“I don’t mind helping, not at all.” The sheer stubbornness in her glare told to him to surrender. With a sigh, he stepped out of the stall. “Get clean. We’ll talk after you’re done.”

“Fine. Privacy would be nice. Please close the door behind you.”

“See you soon.” He stripped off his clothes on the other side, knowing she had a direct view of him. His dick jerked in the cool air. At her gasp, he noticed her riveted gaze stayed on his Prince Albert and beads. He quirked a brow at her, ready to answer any questions she might have. “Done staring at my dick?” The crass words caused her head to jerk and her gaze to land on his.

“Could you be more of an asshole?”

He smirked in response, snagged a towel and walked into his bedroom. Carlie’s continued rant echoed in his bathroom, the sound carrying into his master bedroom.

“Perfect princess, you know this is who I am and you still wanted to jump my bones.”

“I hate that nickname. Whatever. I don’t want to jump anything on you.”

While she screamed expletives at him from the other side of the door in a righteous fit of temper, he dried off and put on a fresh pair of jeans and a T-shirt, impressed that she knew such a dirty range of swear words, and used them. Ten minutes later, Carlie emerged with a huge fluffy towel around her lithe body.

“Let’s get one thing straight. I’m not a new notch for your bedpost, don’t ever strip me naked again. I made a stupid drunken comment months ago that will not happen in this lifetime. Got it? Better yet maybe you should move to the other room while you’re here.”

“Don’t hole yourself in my bedroom like a hoarder,” he snapped back, grabbed his trashcan from the bedside and began tossing wrappers and leftover crap inside. He stopped to gift her with a glare. “This is my room. You don’t dictate where I will or won’t sleep in my fucking house, princess. Got it?” He resumed his task and counted backward from twenty to cool his temper. The heady scent of innocence dripped from her delectable body, driving him mad. He needed his hands occupied to prevent him from lashing out at her in sexual frustration.

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A WILD DREAM OF LOVE by Tina Murray

A WILD DREAM OF LOVE by Tina Murray

 

When movie-queen Lennox Cordova threatens to expose the past, superstar Heston Demming's life spirals into a whirlwind of danger, deceit—and murder? Will old secrets be unearthed and lives destroyed? Will unseen forces guide the destiny of the Demming family's entertainment dynasty?

 

Come join Heston, Poppy, and their children as they seek passion, artistic fulfillment, and spiritual awakening along the sunny shores of wealthy, glitzy, tropical Florida—Naples, South Beach, and the Florida Keys.

 

In this sequel to A CHANCE TO SAY YES, you'll discover romance, revenge—and redemption? And a rock-music legend to die for...

 

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Excerpt from A Wild Dream of Love by Tina Murray, PH. D., copyright, 2012;
page 22

Wild in an otherworldly trance, shaman Kipp danced in the zone. Dressed in tight black jeans and sleeveless leather vest, the tall, sinewy singer’s overt sensuality and craggy face held his worshippers spellbound. Rippling across the bicep of his right arm was his famous tattoo—planets revolving in a solar system surrounded by stars. Singing, he was a wormhole to the throbbing universe.

The anthem came to an abrupt halt, fizzling out in a sparkling light-show flurry. In the train-crash crescendo, Kipp thrust his pelvis repeatedly at the cheering crowd, until their annihilation was accomplished and the cacophony ceased. Drained and spent, he dropped limply to his knees and bowed humbly to the crowd. He hated that song now. He was glad to be done with it.  Breathing slowly in and out, he felt an ominous current moving through the crowd. Lulled by lust, the rapt onlookers threatened to erupt in thunderous, random excess.

He knew what they wanted. Dripping sweat, he was too exhausted to resist. He stared out at the yearning throng. Why should they be satisfied just to ogle his wiggling ass? If they tore him limb from limb tonight, he would let them. He wanted them to.

Let’s get this over with. 

Springing to his feet, he bowed again, this time deeply, from the waist, and rising in a flourish, bounded cavalierly across the stage, microphone in hand. A ripple of anticipation buoyed the crowd. They knew. As the final encore, he was about to sing his signature song. Don’t Die Wondering. What they didn’t know was that tonight would be the last time he would ever sing this or any other song.

Readying his instrument, he drew deep breaths, his hand pressed to his sleek, gently rounded abdomen. Sober, but fatigued and titillated, he ran his gaze across the volatile crowd swarming before him in the packed concert hall. Aroused, he willed his lean, muscular body to relax, but failed.  Fans screamed as he pretended to unzip his black leather pants and massage his member.

“You need to calm down,” he teased into the microphone. He leered seductively at the restless audience. Lecherous shouts rang out. One last time, he felt his power surge...

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ROCK IDOL by Veronica Tower

Today on our Cyber Launch Party Blog, we're celebrating Veronica Tower's sexy new IR romance!

ROCK IDOL by Veronica Tower

Reality With A Twist Series

Ember Blaze had it all and lost it—teenaged pop star turned middle-aged loser—but all of that changed when she became a judge on America’s new hit talent show, Rock Idol.

Now she has wealth, fame and respect again—everything she’s been missing for the past two decades—but a hot young contestant is turning her world topsy turvy. He’s got blond hair, blue eyes and a smile that has half the women in America swooning—and he wants Ember even more desperately than she wants him.

But after working so hard to get back on top, can she really risk everything for a few moments of stolen passion and the chance to learn to love again?

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~Excerpt~

        Someone knocked on Ember’s dressing room door. It was twenty minutes before the start of the show and a bad time for interruptions. Hans had finally finished applying her makeup but couldn’t decide what to do about her hair.

At the sound of the knock, Hans threw up his hands in despair. “What is it now? Do they not know that there is an artist at work in here?”

He stormed across the room to the door and flung it open. “What do you want?”

Rick Rogers stood in the hallway with a single red rose in his hands and the same terrible striped shirt that he had worn in last week’s competition. “I, um, need to speak to Ember for a minute.”

“And I need sixty more minutes to finish creating perfection. He glanced at the rose in Rick’s hands and grinned. “But you probably think her perfection comes naturally. You may have three minutes and then I shall play God by once again creating angelic beauty with these two hands.”

Hans stepped out of the dressing room and closed the door behind Rick.

Ember stood up. “What’s on your mind?”

Rick crossed the room to join her. “I wanted to bring you this,” he said, “and to thank you again. You really helped me pull out all the stops last week. And I,” he handed her the rose, “thank you.”

“You didn’t have to bring me flowers,” Ember said. In truth she was slightly uncomfortable that he had done so.

“It’s just one rose,” Rick told her.

But it was a red rose, Ember noted, red for love and passion.

“Well, I’m sure you’re going to do even better this week,” she told him.

“I hope so,” Rick said. “I’ve worked hard, but the competition is fierce. It’s good to know you’re pulling for me.”

Where was Hans? Ember wondered. He needed to get back here and end this awkward conversation. “Would you like another piece of advice?” Ember asked.

“Of course,” Rick told her. “I’ll do anything you tell me.”

“Lose that shirt,” she said. “It makes you look-”

“This shirt?” Rick interrupted. “I can’t do that. It’s half my luck!”

 The bad half, Ember wanted to say, but what came out was something else entirely.  "What's the other half?

“This,” Rick whispered.

He leaned close and kissed her—his lips pressing gently against hers, warm and tender.

Taken completely off guard, Ember shocked herself. She didn’t pull away. She didn’t slap him. She closed her eyes and kissed him back, opening her mouth to let his tongue greet hers.

His strong hands gripped her waist as hers slid of their own accord around his back.

A knock sounded on the dressing room door, startling Ember into stepping back from Rick and breaking the embrace. She was breathing hard and her heart was racing—but whether with passion or fear of discovery she wasn’t certain.

The door opened and Hans reentered the room. “I cannot give you another minute. Even God, Himself, must have some time in which to work his miracles.”

Rick pulled himself back together. “I’ll be singing for you tonight,” he whispered, then turned and hurried from the room.

Hans watched him go, admiring his backside until the door closed behind him. “It is such a shame that boy is straight,” he said.

Then he turned back to Ember. “Sit down, dear, we only have fifteen minutes to finish making you radiant.”

Ember sat down in her chair—her mind a jumble of confused thoughts and sensations.

“You’ve dropped your rose,” Hans noted. He stooped down, picked it up and handed it to her. “And is that a smudge on your lipstick?”

He picked up the lipstick tube and set about correcting the flaw. “Perhaps it’s not a shame the boy is straight after all, hmm?"

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HERE WITHOUT YOU by Megan Slayer

HERE WITHOUT YOU by Megan Slayer

Some guys have all the luck and some guys love the pain. Slash Gunderson knows that feeling well. His place behind the drums for Glow is a dream come true. Can he accept his need for kink and the man who makes his heart beat?

Hiram Moline loves his job as the head of security for Glow. He's also in love with Slash. There's one major glitch -- someone has been sending Slash threatening letters. Hiram's not about to let anything happen to Slash. Can he convince Slash they've got something strong or will the stalker get the upper hand?

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Here Without You
Megan Slayer
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2012 Megan Slayer

This e-book file contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language which some may find offensive and which is not appropriate for a young audience. Changeling Press E-Books are for sale to adults, only, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.

"There is nothing like the feeling of walking in the door after a long tour and knowing you don't have to go anywhere for at least a week." Slash Gunderson tossed his duffle bag onto the floor and took a deep breath. The pine scent of his rustic home swirled around him, embracing him like an old friend. He loved the sound of silence. He'd thought about getting a bulldog or a couple of cats, but touring made having a pet damned near impossible. The silence also reminded him he didn't have the one thing he really wanted -- someone to share the house with. Not a roommate or a housemate, but a lover. Someone he trusted and wanted to be around. Sure, he loved the guys from Glow like brothers, but being that two were married and one was in a permanent relationship, he wasn't likely to score a hook-up.

Hook-ups. Slash toed off his running shoes, then flipped through the mail he'd picked up from the floor. No one really knew his address, so getting mail was like getting gold. "Bill, bill, bill," he muttered and flipped through the thin stack of envelopes.

One envelope bore smears and a scrawled address line. The return address had suffered more smearing, but the handwriting... he knew that writing. Knew it eerily well. V -- the crazy behind the mutilation letters -- was back.

He gulped and fought back the bile on his tongue.

The author of the letter made a point in large script to let Slash know who he or she was -- sort of. Another letter couldn't be good, and this one had something heavy in it.

The more Slash touched the envelope, the more he realized there wasn't just a piece of paper inside. Slash looked around the foyer and tossed the letter on the floor. Damn. If someone wanted to poison him, especially V, then Slash's need to read the mail had helped start the process.

He dropped the remaining letters onto the side table and took out his cell. He pressed the buttons to call the one person he trusted. Save for the police and the other guys in the band, there weren't too many people Slash counted on. Hiram ranked in the top slot.

"Moline."

The tingle shooting up Slash's spine shifted from fear to excitement. Every time he heard Hiram's bass voice, his body reacted. Hiram Moline's ensemble screamed, "I can kick your ass with a smile and not break a sweat." All muscle and brood with the right amount of snarl to make him sexy. Just being around Hiram scrambled Slash's brains. "Hey, man. I've got an envelope here. Can't read the damn thing."

"Okay. Is it like before?"

"I think so."

Besides being the best security guard Slash knew, Hiram cared. They'd gone out more than a couple times and ended the night together. They had a bond, unconventional, with handcuffs and a serious need to be spanked, but a bond nonetheless. When Hiram held him, Slash felt at ease and adored. Was that nuts?

"I'll be there in a moment."

The reassurance in Hiram's voice lifted Slash's spirits for a heartbeat. "How?" Where was Hiram if he could be there in a little bit? Slash turned to the sound of gravel crunching and peeked through the glass panels on either side of the front door. The fear subsided a bit.

Hiram climbed out of his truck and marched up the walkway. Good timing. Slash disconnected the call and placed the phone next to the discarded mail. "I was on my way here anyway. I wanted to talk to you, but I'd like to get this sorted out first. Let me see what you have."

Normally when Hiram walked through the door, all Slash could think of was jumping on him. Not with a strange letter lying at his feet. The fear came back and lumped in his belly.

"Fuck." Slash tapped his foot. "I should've called the cops first." God, he hated when his confidence tanked.

"Probably." Hiram's brows knotted and the muscles in his jaw tensed. "Doesn't look suspicious, but hell, who knows with this shit?" He groaned. "I'm not sure what the hell to do. If we open it and it's got something wicked in it, we're fucked. If it's on the level, we're not." He shook his head. "Fuck it. I don't feel right about letting it go."

Slash's skin crawled. He listened to Hiram make the phone call, but his thoughts went every which way. The life of a rock star quite frankly rocked. He loved every moment in the studio, the concerts for the fans, the meetings with the Glow Kids. Touring left a bit to be desired, but most of that was the time sitting idle in the bus. Whoever said the miles were endless wasn't kidding. He blew out a long breath and swallowed past the lump of fear in his throat. He held one of the scariest parts of being famous -- people who wanted to harm anyone in the media spotlight. His palms sweated and his foot bounced like it did when he got nervous. Having Hiram there helped, but as Hiram said, who knew what was in the letter?

Hiram nodded again and slipped his phone into the holster on his jeans pocket. "Called Mitchell Green with the Olmstead Police Department. He said they'd bag it and test your hand for chemicals. Shouldn't be ten minutes. No sweat."

No sweat. Slash closed his eyes. The only thing he feared more than the damned envelope was an attack from a fan. For all he knew the letter was the attack. He'd always imagined someone would try to hurt him while he was on stage.

"You're over-thinking." Hiram stepped in close enough his breath warmed Slash's cheeks. "Hey. I'm not about to let anyone hurt you."

Without looking at Hiram, Slash opened his eyes. The honesty in Hiram's voice got to him. His heart raced. Fuck buddies weren't supposed to have feelings for each other, and that was what he and Hiram were, right? He had to say something. "You say that to all the band members. Half the band is your family."

There, that put the emotions on ice and got his blossoming feelings back behind the wall surrounding his heart.

"That's not fair." Hiram tipped Slash's chin up, forcing him to look into Hiram's eyes. Instead of ridicule, something else shone in the icy blue depths...

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TROPICAL SIN by Lexxie Couper

TROPICAL SIN by Lexxie Couper

It takes more than a rock star to rock your world. Sometimes you need a friend.

Bandicoot Cove, Book 3

McKenzie Wood is Australia's star gossip mag journalist, and she's just spied the story of a lifetime: rumor-shrouded rock star, Nick Blackthorne - —who thinks he's incognito at Bandicoot Cove resort. The word is Nick's a sex addict about to come out of the closet, and who better to lure Nick out than her BFF, Aiden Rogers - a pulse-poundingly gorgeous firefighter who is always there when she needs him, no matter the challenge.

Aiden admits it's pretty damned pathetic that he can rush into burning buildings, but not have the guts to tell McKenzie he's in love with her. No way can he tell his best friend he'd like to do some seriously sinful things to her, especially since she's never shown one iota of sexual interest.

Nick looks forward to some "unfamous" downtime in his home country. He's surprised to find his creative muse stirred - more like brought to rigid attention - by a couple so sexy that all he can think about is the three of them. Together.

Three bodies move together as one, and the music becomes a smoldering beat that rivals the island's heat. When the truth inevitably comes out, the heat might be enough to save three souls...or end up just another sinner's lament.

Product Warnings:One plus one plus one equals OMG sex, are-you-freaking-kidding-me orgasms and some serious mind-blowing climaxes.

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Copyright © 2011 Lexxie Couper
All rights reserved — a Samhain Publishing, Ltd. publication

Nick Blackthorne weaved his way through the smattering of guests milling around the Bandicoot Resort’s massive reception area, a small smile curling at the corners of his mouth. It wasn’t the fact he was here, at the soft opening of the resort, that made him happy, nor the fact he was walking around without a minder or bodyguard or groupie to be seen. It was simply because the woman laughing behind him had a delightfully throaty, infectious laugh.

He stopped himself from shooting a look over his shoulder, concentrating instead on finding the correct passageway that would lead him to the Oasis Bar. He was a touch jetlagged and needed something more than coffee to wake up.

A touch? You’ve been on one plane or the other for the last three days. You’re more than jetlagged, you’re jet-freaking-dragged-through-the-turbines stoned. Besides, the need for something more than caffeine has nothing to do with jetlag. You just want to sit out in the sun and pretend you’re a normal person for a short while, don’t you?

He smiled wider. The truth was always less sensational. It had been a long time since he’d been able to sit at a bar and relax. When his agent had offered him the chance to attend the resort’s soft opening he’d jumped at it. Minimum number of guests, all hand-picked by the hotel’s manager, all—Frankie assured him—too discreet or important in their own rights to worry about him being in their presence. A nice change from where he’d just been, that was for sure.

The thought made his smile falter. A little. He wasn’t going to let his mind turn to where he’d just been. Not when he was walking through Eden.

Ah, so the romantic you used to be is still buried in that craven pit you call a soul, is he?

Behind him the woman laughed again, another low, throaty chuckle and, before he could help himself, Nick turned.

Whoa.

She was only a few feet behind, grinning up at a guy almost half again her height, her long, strawberry blonde hair a flaming halo in the sun’s warm rays, her pink lips stretched in a grin that said very clearly, “Yes, I am completely in charge of this situation.”

Nick let his gaze flick to her companion, noting with an experienced eye the man’s latent strength in his six-foot-plus form, his fluid, steady movements, and his utter adoration for the woman gripping his arm.

Christ, they were a sexy couple. Damn sexy.

He scowled, turning away from the young lovers. There was a time he’d have walked straight on up to them and suggested something far more depraved than either could probably imagine. Something very dirty and very enjoyable. That time had passed, however.

The woman laughed again, the delicious sound accompanied by a lower, deeper chuckle. The guy’s laugh. Relaxed. Easygoing. Coming up from his chest to slip past his lips in a humored rumble. Equally as infectious as hers.

He drove his nails into his palms and scanned the lush gardens on the other side of the glass wall. Where the hell was this bar? Somewhere outside beside a pool? He needed a drink.

No, not a drink. You need—

A face of an angel with filth on her mind,

I pray to burn in her fire,

I pray to die in her arms.

The words—lyrics of a song he hadn’t written yet—whispered through Nick’s head and he raised his eyebrows, his heartbeat quickening. Just as it had been too long since he could relax in public, it had been even longer since words of music came to him. Whoever the redhead was, she stirred something in him.

Yet the arms of her lover reach out for more.

Like a sinner I will burn in his fire,

I will die in his fire as she pleads for more.

Nick came to a halt, the unexpected lyrics floating through his head. It seemed they’d both stirred something in him he hadn’t felt for a long time, not just the woman.

The whisper of a rhythm teased him and he closed his eyes, a familiar sensation stirring in the pit of his gut. Carnal thoughts and lyrics? Coming to Bandicoot Cove really was a good—

“Excuse me, but can I ask you a question?”

The soft, husky voice speaking beside him could only belong to one person. Opening his eyes, Nick turned around, leaving his sunglasses firmly in place as he fixed his gaze on the flame-haired woman smiling up at him. This close she wasn’t just sexy, she was stunning. Stunning and gorgeous. As was the man standing next to her, his expression unreadable, that sleeping strength radiating from him in waves of…

Like a sinner I will burn in his fire,

I will die in his fire and beg her for—

“You’re Nick Blackthorne, yes?”

The woman’s question took Nick by jarring surprise. It shouldn’t have, but with the words of a hidden song taunting him and the unexpected lick of sexual interest teasing him, he wasn’t prepared. Especially for what she said next.

“I’m McKenzie Wood from Goss Weekly.” Her clear blue eyes turned direct. Intent. “I’m wondering if you’d like to comment on your stay at the Vergnügen sex clinic in Germany?”

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JOY RIDE by Desiree Holt

JOY RIDE by Desiree Holt

Emma, the good girl poster child, is running from a life she suddenly sees as gray and suffocating - a life where she's successfully buried all her hopes and secret dreams. Until the night she wanders into Aftershock and is immediately drawn to the hot bass player. The electricity of his performance, the powerful music he coaxes from his guitar, the heavy vibration of each note reaches out to something deep inside her and wakes an Emma she didn't even know existed.

Marc doesn't much care for the groupies who hang around the band. He needs a woman he can create a future with that's a counterpoint to the craziness of the rock music business. When he sees Emma for the first time, something inside him cracks wide open. Just one sizzling glance between them, and he's sure he's found the woman to complete his life.

But as the relationship grows, there's a huge stumbling block: Emma won't tell him her name. The sex is fabulous but he wants more...

Although Emma is finally finding her true self, her fear of everything falling apart builds a barrier she can't seem to cross. Marc is taking her on the joy ride of her life, but will her own insecurities destroy everything?

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~Excerpt~


Clutching the cold beer bottle in her hand, she wedged her way between gyrating bodies, hypnotized by the music until she reached the front of the crowd…and stopped at the edge of the stage, mesmerized. The bass guitarist stood with one foot balanced on the monitor in front of him, his body leaning into the sound. His head was thrown back, dark hair flying around his face as he pounded out the rhythm of the song they were playing. He was wild, uninhibited, totally immersed in his music. He moved with an incredible grace to the accented beat, hips thrusting as his clever fingers plucked the strings and slid on the neck of the guitar.

For one incredible moment, Emma had the feeling he was playing only for her and she realized she really had been struck by “Lightnin’.” Permanently electrified by it.

A surge of heat raced through her, and it wasn’t the kind that emanated from the tightly packed sweaty bodies. Instead, an electric excitement gripped her, sending a charge of unfamiliar sexual thrill to every nerve. Her breasts tingled and between her thighs, she felt a throbbing as deep as the sound of the bass. At first she stood stiffly, clutching her drink. People jostled and shoved her as they kept time to the beat. She took two quick swallows of the beer, grimacing at the bitter taste. But as the alcohol eased her tension, she found herself catching the rhythm of the music and trying to mimic the movements of the bass player, totally caught up in the seductive lure of the song. For one crazy moment, she was gripped by an uncontrollable urge to jump up on the stage, and bump and grind with him. Her! Emma, the good girl!

Clumsily juggling the beer bottle, she slipped the thin strap of her purse over her head so it lay crosswise between her breasts. Her focus still on the bass player, she swayed to the beat, hips moving, rocking. When the song ended, the bass guitarist threw back his head on a final note and then looked out into the crowd, peering beyond the glare of the stage lights.

His eyes seemed to find hers as if pulled by a magnet, and a fist slammed through her.

Ohmigod!

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BREATHE by Abbi Glines

BREATHE by Abbi Glines

Sadie White's summer job isn't going to be on the beach life-guarding or working at rental booths like most kids her age. With her single mother's increasing pregnancy and refusal to work, Sadie has to take over her mother's job as a domestic servant for one of the wealthy summer families on a nearby island.

When the family arrives at their summer getaway, Sadie is surprised to learn that the owner of the house is Jax Stone, one of the hottest teen rockers in the world. If Sadie hadn't spent her life raising her mother and taking care of the house she might have been normal enough to be excited about working for a rock star.

Even though Sadie isn't impressed by Jax's fame, he is drawn to her. Everything about Sadie fascinates Jax but he fights his attraction. Relationship's never work in his world and as badly as he wants Sadie, he believes she deserves more. By the end of the summer, Jax discovers he can't breathe without Sadie.

But can their love overcome the disparity in their lifestyles? Or will they have to learn how to breathe again?

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An Excerpt from: Breathe
Copyright © 2011 Abbi Glines

All rights reserved, Wild Child Publishing.




Once back in the kitchen, Marcus sat down his tray. “Okay, this is sticky. You’re supposed to take him his plate, and since his mother has left, I have no reason to return. I could go in your place, which would be the best idea, but I am afraid it will anger him. He has noticed you, which I knew would be pretty unavoidable, but I’d hoped since he is famous, he wouldn’t pay attention to another pretty face.” Marcus sighed and leaned his hip against the table and crossed his long legs. “I am leaving this up to you.”

“Me?”

“What do you want to do, Sadie? It isn’t about your job; it is about mine. If you don’t go back, I could lose mine for taking your spot. I think he has already picked up on my protecting you. If you go or not, your job is secure...for now.”

I sighed and reached for the tray holding the dessert. I wouldn’t jeopardize someone else’s job to help myself out. “I’ll do it.”

Without another word, I headed back down the hall all by myself.

Once I entered, steel blue eyes met mine and he smiled. “Ah, so he did let you come alone. I wondered if I would be seeing him instead.”

I didn’t want to smile at his comment but I did. I sat his dessert down in front of him and took my place.

“Do you speak?” he asked.

“Yes.” Marcus had spoken for me all night.

“We don’t normally have young female employees. How did you get through Mary?”

“I am mature for my age.”

He only nodded and took a bite of some sort of chocolate cake with more chocolate oozing out of the inside. After he chewed and swallowed, he looked back at me. I turned to stare out the window at the waves crashing against the shore.

“How old are you?”

“Seventeen.” I hoped my simple reply would end his interrogation.

“How did you know I lived here?”

His question caught me off guard and I met his gaze. “It is hard to miss the photos of you as I dust and mop.”

He frowned. “You applied for this job not knowing I lived here?”

I realized he assumed a fan squeezed through the cracks of his security and he wanted to know how I did it.

“My mother has been cleaning here for two months. However, her pregnancy has progressed and she sent me in her place. I proved my worth, and Ms. Mary kept me. My being here has nothing to do with you, sir, but has everything to do with the fact I want to eat and pay the rent.” I knew I sounded annoyed, but I was annoyed, and I couldn’t help it.

He nodded and stood up. “I am sorry. When I saw you, and you were young and well...attractive, I thought the only reason someone like you would be working here would be to get close to me. I deal with females quite a bit, and my assuming you were working here to get near me wasn’t fair. Please forgive me.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat. I felt this job slipping out of my hands, but I would not cry. “I understand,” I managed to get out.

A boyish smile tugged at his lips, and he nodded his head toward the door. “I guess I should have figured you were taken by the possessiveness of the other server tonight. I stared at you more than I should have, but I kept waiting for you to ask for my autograph or slip your number to me on a napkin.”

I raised my eyebrows in surprise.

He shrugged. “Those things are a way of life for me. I just expect it.”

I smiled back at him this time. He wasn’t as bad as I’d made him out to be.

He wasn’t about to fire me.

“I am here to do my job, sir, and nothing more.”

“Do me a favor and don’t call me ‘sir.’ I am just two years older than you.”

I took the plate, careful not to touch his hands, and stepped back. “Okay,” I replied, hoping I could leave.

“So, is he your boyfriend?”

He caught me off guard with his question, and I halted in my tracks.

“Who? Marcus?”

A crooked grin appeared on his face. He was hard not to stare at. “If Marcus is the guy who seemed quite determined to make sure you made no mistakes tonight, then yes.”

“No, he is…he is a friend.” It was strange saying those words. I’d never called anyone a friend in my life.

Jax smiled and leaned down to whisper close to my ear. “I hope someday soon you will consider me a friend as well. I don’t have very many of those.”

My face grew hot, and my skin tingled at his nearness. His warm breath on my skin made it hard to form words. I swallowed hard, trying to focus on his comment and not swooning at his feet like some crazy lunatic. “I only have one,” I blurted out like an idiot.

Jax frowned. “I find that hard to believe”

I shrugged. “I don’t have time for friends.”

Jax stepped forward, opened the door for me, and smiled. “Well, I hope we can find some time in your busy schedule because I happen to be in need of a friend myself…. Someone who doesn’t care who I am…. Someone who doesn’t laugh at my jokes when they’re not funny. If I’m not mistaken, you could care less about the fact I am on the cover of Rolling Stone magazine this month, and on the bedroom walls of every teenage girl in America.”

His comment seemed to ease my momentary lapse of common sense from his nearness, and I shook my head. “Not every teenage girl in America. You have never been on my walls. So, I guess you’re right, I don’t care.” I walked away, leaving him standing behind me.

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ENCORE by J.M. Snyder

ENCORE by J.M. Snyder

BRAND NEW FICTION FROM J.M. SNYDER!

In Beautiful Disaster, pop superstar Corey Evans realizes how hollow he feels until he discovers he's in love with his best friend and band mate, Ian Coltraine. Together they form the successful pop duo 2ICE, and this story picks up where the first left off.

A couple not only onstage but in the bedroom now, Ian and Corey have managed to hide their newfound relationship from the fans, the press, and -- most importantly -- their management. But when manager Dean Summers stumbles upon the two of them together, he's determined to put an end to what he sees as a destructive course which can only end up tearing the band apart.

Is the budding love Ian and Corey share strong enough to stand up to the pressures they face?

If you haven't read Beautiful Disaster, this story may not make much sense. So pick up the first story before diving into this short, satisfying sequel!

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EXCERPT:
Note: may contain sexually explicit scenes of a homoerotic nature.

The kiss was electric, spiking between them, burning away the moment, the world and everything in it, everything that wasn’t Ian on Corey, in him. Yes, Corey thought, the single word eclipsing all other processes in his brain. Yes, God yes, this, please.

When Ian broke away, Corey fell back to the pillow and stared up at his lover, breathless. For a long moment, neither said anything. Truth be told, Corey thought they could never move or speak again, and he’d die happy. Ian was his, here with him now, and nothing else mattered.

Then a familiar glint lit up Ian’s eyes, a hunger Corey knew all too well. The heated blush of arousal spread through him like a fever -- the anticipation of things to come. Of them coming, together. Coyly Corey asked, “What?”

“You know what.” Ian half-rolled onto Corey, pressing his groin against Corey’s hip. “The condoms are in my bag on the sink. Unless you aren’t interested ...”

“When am I not interested?” Pushing himself up with both arms, Corey claimed another quick kiss, then slid off the edge of the bed.

He didn’t get far -- Ian caught one hand and held onto it, pulling him back.

“Give me one more,” he said, puckering his lips.

Corey obliged. What began as a quick peck deepened, and Corey had to lean heavily on the bed with his knees to keep from falling back to the mattress. Releasing him, Ian ran a hand up Corey’s forearm, over his bicep, up to his shoulder then down the thin muscles of his chest. One of Corey’s legs rose of its own volition, already climbing back into his recently vacated spot beside Ian. Fuck the condoms. He needed this.

Before he could climb back into bed, a hard knock rapped on the room door.

Corey’s eyes flew open. He found Ian staring back at him, a look of fear frozen on his face. When the knock came again, Ian groaned and closed his eyes in frustration. “Fuck,” he whispered, his hands falling from Corey’s body. “It’s too damn early for this.”

Corey frowned. “Who do you think it is?”

Ian touched Corey’s stomach. “You think I know?” When Corey grinned, Ian poked his forefinger into Corey’s belly. “Go find out. Tell whoever it is we’re busy and don’t wish to be disturbed.”

“We need one of those signs.” Corey stretched as he stood, and Ian’s finger trailed down his stomach, over his slight pubic mound, to tweak his half-erect cock. With a laugh, Corey danced out of reach. “Maybe it’s room service. I could use breakfast in bed.”

Ian rolled onto his back, the bed sheets sliding down to expose bare skin. “I didn’t call.”

A third knock kept Corey from answering. As he crossed the room, he snagged his boxer briefs from where they lay discarded on the floor and tugged them on, tucking his swollen dick roughly into the front of the underwear. If it wasn’t room service, it better damn well be something serious. His spot in the bed was getting cold, and he wanted Ian’s arms around him again. Quietly he approached the door and peeked through the peephole.

Their manager Dean stood on the other side. He blinked in the bright lights and looked down the hallway, scratching the back of his neck as he waited.

“Who is it?” Ian asked, snuggling deeper into the blankets.

Corey’s breath fogged up the peephole. “Dean. Shit.”

Before Ian could respond, Corey unlocked the door and opened it a crack, hiding behind the sturdy wood. “Yeah?” he asked, frowning.

Dean blinked at him and took a step back. “Whoa, wrong room, man. Sorry about that.” He looked down the hallway again and frowned. “Wait a minute -- aren’t you on the other end of the hall?”

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BEAUTIFUL DISASTER by J.M. Snyder

BEAUTIFUL DISASTER by J.M. Snyder

Twenty year old Corey Evans is one-half of 2ICE, the biggest duo on the radio at the moment. Pronounced twice, they're number one on the Billboard charts this week with their latest single. And number one in download sales, with two albums that have already gone platinum, to hear their manager tell it. And currently on their second U.S. tour, which has sold out stadiums across the nation.

Despite this, there's an emptiness inside him which Corey can't seem to fill, no matter how many groupies he takes to his bed. He sees this same emptiness mirrored in the eyes of his band-mate, Ian Coltraine, who drowns his evenings after each show with a bottle of whiskey. Ian's the one Corey turns to when he wakes beside an unknown fan, still asleep in his bed and needs help evicting her. He's Corey best friend, the only person on the tour he can confide in, who he really trusts ...

The one, Corey finally realizes, with whom he is madly, deeply, terribly in love. And he suspects Ian might feel the same.

But his recent string of one-night stands makes Ian cautious about Corey's true feelings. He's wanted Corey for so long, and has watched him go through countless fans in search of ... what? Ian doesn't know. And he doesn't yet believe Corey when he says Ian might be it. Ian hopes so, but can't bring himself to believe Corey's fickle desire won't be gone in the morning.

Can these two young men somehow move beyond Corey's past and Ian's pain to embrace a love they both so desperately desire?

NOTE: The paperback also contains the short stories Encore and Render, which feature the same characters.

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EXCERPT:
Note: may contain sexually explicit scenes of a homoerotic nature.

Corey pulled back the comforter, exposing pristine white sheets that still looked ironed. Ian hadn't slept in the bed at all. As Corey eased between the covers, the sheets cool on his skin, he frowned and tried to forget about the girl in his own bed down the hall. What the fuck was he going to do about that in the morning?

He didn't know.

Leaning back against the pillow, he pulled the comforter up to his armpits and looked over at Ian, who sat in the chair watching him. Watching him. So he still existed. He was still real, still alive, still here. "The bed's big enough for two," he murmured.

"I'm fine," Ian replied, but suddenly he didn't look fine to Corey. He looked sad and old and alone, and not fine in the least.

With a sigh, Corey rolled his eyes and let a slight whine creep into his voice. "Ian. There's plenty of room." To emphasize his point, he patted the empty space beside him. When Ian didn't reply, Corey said, "This is your bed. I'll sleep on the floor if I have to. Is that what you want? It doesn't matter to me. Just as long as I don't have to go back --"

"Fine." Ian hoisted himself out of the chair and stumbled to the bed. Sitting on the edge farthest from Corey, he kicked off his shoes and glared at the floor. "You happy now? You got what you wanted, Corey. You fucking happy?"

"Jeez." Corey didn't say another word as Ian began to undress, slipping out of his shirt and tugging down his pants until he stood in just his boxers and undershirt. As he reached across the bed to cut off the lamp, his shadow fell over Corey, blocking the light from his eyes. Then the room plunged into darkness, and the bed shook as Ian climbed beneath the covers.

Corey lay on his back and stared at the ceiling, blinking to assure himself his eyes were still open. He waited until Ian settled into a comfortable position before he turned toward his friend, who was rolled on his side away from him. All Corey could see was the slump of Ian's shoulder outlined against the dim glow of the curtains. "Ian?"

"What?" His voice was muffled, his mouth probably buried in the pillow.

Clearing his throat, Corey asked, "Are you mad at me?"

For a moment he didn't think Ian would answer. Then Ian sighed. "No."

Corey released a shaky breath he hadn't known he was holding. "Good."

Now that the lights were out and Ian was just a shadow in the darkness, Corey's mind couldn't stop turning, and he didn't want the silence that surrounded them to get inside. He wanted to hear Ian's deep voice, soft and comforting and slurred, wrap around him and hold him close. He wanted to hear Ian's steady breath drown out the tick of the alarm clock and the sounds of the city beyond the drawn curtain. "Ian?" he asked again.

"What?" Ian replied, gentler this time.

"Talk to me." Talk to me and make me real. Make this real, so I'll be able to look back on it when I'm alone and scared again and know for a few moments at least I existed to someone as just Corey and not anything else. Please, Ian. Please give me that much.

Ian chuckled. "You wanted me to get into bed so we could sleep. Now you want me to talk to you? What do you want me to say?"

"Anything." When Ian didn't answer, Corey prompted, "What were you doing in the lounge?"

"Drinking," Ian said.

Corey grinned. "I know that. What were you thinking about?"

"You," came the soft reply.

"Really?" Corey frowned at Ian's back. "Me? Why?"

Ian sighed. "I don't feel like talking right now, Corey, okay? I just don't."

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