Why the hell do I torture myself? Sitting in the sun and hiding a hard-on from his best friend is not Tucker's idea of fun. He’d rather drink beer and fantasize than destroy what he and Jase have.
A good fuck between friends, what the hell’s wrong with that? Heat and lust make a man do crazy shit, but Jase intends to prove he and Tuck can be lovers and friends.
When desire flares under the Texas summer sun, will it burn too hot to handle.
Genre: Contemporary romance, erotic romance, gay
Heat level: 5
Word count – 7k
Cover art by Fantasia Frog Designs
This can’t be happening. His best friend since the summer before their junior year in high school was not hitting on him with all the subtlety of Flash Gordon’s death ray. Tucker’s dick ached almost as much as his heart.
“You first.” He slumped onto the lounger and studied the man he’d desired for far too long. “How come I’ve never seen you with a guy if you’re such a free thinker?”
“I dated guys on and off in college. I just never brought them home. They weren’t exactly keepers.”
“And the women you date are?”
The cocky bastard’s full lips tilted into a sexy grin. “Probably not, but they’re easier. No one judges a man with a beautiful woman on his arm.”
“No one would ever judge you anyway.” Tuck dropped his eyes to the label he’d peeled off his beer bottle. “Hell, it would probably make your life easier. Most of your clients are already women. That wouldn’t change. They’d either sign you as their personal trainer because they figured a gay guy’s a safe guy, or they’d work damned hard to trigger your bi-side. Either way, their money lines your pockets. So try again. Why don’t you date guys around here?”
Desire sucked the oxygen from the air as Jason strolled across the narrow expanse and sank slowly to his knees. “Because I discovered long ago that I have a weakness for skinny nerds with big hearts…geeky freaks who make me laugh.” He trailed his fingers lightly up and down Tuck’s legs, not light enough to tickle, just firm enough to tease nerve endings to life. “I like guys, but only one makes me want to wake up in his arms.”
The jack-in–the-box sprang back to life. “Who’s—” His voice broke on a boyish squeak. “Who is that?”
“Can’t you guess?”
L.C. Dean has lived all over the country from the glorious South to the freethinking West Coast, but returned to the Midwest over a decade ago, and now resides in the fantastic state of MN. Though she hopes to someday find the love of her life, she currently resides with an overweight and over indulged coonhound named Jake. LC’s main goal professionally is to push the boundaries her often puritanical upbringing created. Writing about love that does not need society to define it, has been a freeing experience for her and her characters, and she hopes that readers find a similar joy in the reading.