Romero and Julian

An As We Like It Story

By Brynn Paulin

Resplendence Publishing, LLC

http://www.resplendencepublishing.com

Resplendence Publishing, LLC
2665 N Atlantic Avenue, #349
Daytona Beach, FL 32118

Romero and Julian

Copyright © 2011 Brynn Paulin

Edited by Christine Allen-Riley and Cait Green
Cover art by Les Byerley,

www.les3photo8.com

Electronic format ISBN: 978-1-60735-438-3

Warning: All rights reserved. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this
copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including
infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable
by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

Electronic Release: November 2011

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and occurrences are a product
of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead,
places or occurrences, is purely coincidental.

“My man’s as true as steel.”

Romeo and Juliet, William Shakespeare, Act II, Sc. IV

To all those who believe in love at first sight.

May your lives be the ultimate love story,

filled with Happily Ever After.

And to Shakespeare, I know why you killed them.

While I still disagree, it’s all so much clearer now.

Chapter One

One punch and Wesley Romero was going down hard. The back of his head smacked the

lawn, but he rolled, avoiding Tai Julian’s kick. Damn it, it looked like he was wearing steel-toed

boots, too. Leaping to his feet, Wesley scrambled up and ducked a blow just as a Verona police

car screamed around the corner and his friend, Ben Marcus ran across the street and grabbed Tai

before the man could punch Wesley again.

Favoring his ribs, Wesley hunched over trying to breathe while two cops hurried from

their cruiser.

“What’s going on here?” one of the cops demanded.

“He’s trespassing,” Tai spat.

“I came over here to ask you to turn down the music so my parents can sleep.” Wes

looked at the cop. “He attacked me.”

Fuck, he didn’t even live here anymore, and he was still getting dragged into this crap.

He’d just come to dinner at his parents’ home, and they’d asked him to talk to the Julians before

he left. Tai had gone on the offensive as soon as he’d seen Wesley. Thankfully, Ben, who’d been

his close friend since childhood had joined them for the meal. If not, Tai would still be beating

on Wesley while Wesley tried to dodge him. Not that he couldn’t hold his own, but he didn’t

want to fight. He’d seen way too much of that the past few years.

“I can’t believe we’re back over here again,” the second cop muttered in disgust. “The

two of you. For the love of God, Romero just got back in town.”

Wesley recognized him as Deputy Escalus. He’d broken up way too many squabbles

between the Romeros and Julians over the years. Edward Julian, Tai’s father, and Robert

Romero, Wesley’s father had fostered a long-standing feud of sorts since they’d been in college.

It was a stupid thing really, especially now some thirty years later. Something about Wesley’s

mom dating Robert after she’d broken things off with Edward. As an extension, Maisie Julian

disliked Wesley’s mom for that very reason. Everything had just gotten more bitter with more

“wrongs” piled upon one another during the following decades.

Both the Romeros and the Julians lived in Victorian-style homes that had been in their

families since they’d been built eons ago, and neither group was willing to move.

“Trust me,” Wes grated, “I’d rather be back in Iraq than walking into this enemy camp.”

The two families moved in different circles, and though he was the same age as the oldest

Julian son, both Julian boys had gone to private school while Wesley had gone to public.

“I heard you were a SEAL,” Deputy Escalus said while the other officer spoke with Tai.

“I wasn’t a SEAL, just a combat engineer doing his job.”

“Just an engineer?” Ben laughed. “Fuck, man, you’re a Marine. You did stuff that would

have had me pissing myself.”

“You don’t say. A Marine? Ooh Rah,” the cop said, admiration shining in his eyes.

Wesley grinned and nodded. He was proud to be a Marine, even if he was a reservist

who’d never expected to be called up to fight overseas. He glanced at his friend. “Thanks, Ben.”

“Hell, yeah. Marine or no, I’m glad you’re out now, too. Three tours was too much.”

“Just doing my job.” He was glad to be back to his civilian career, now, though. “So,

Deputy, do you think we can ask them to turn down the music?”

The officer nodded, and the three of them headed for the backyard. The area was lit with

Chinese lanterns, and tall, propane patio heaters warmed the area that otherwise would have been

chilly. A large banner at one end of the yard proclaimed Congratulations Micah and Paris! in

large block letters. Great. They were breaking up an engagement party.

He spotted Edward right away as he rounded the final corner, but it was the youngest

Julian who held his gaze. Micah. Five years younger than Wesley’s twenty-eight, he was sleek

where Wesley was thickly muscled, and golden-haired where Wesley’s was nearly coal-black.

He wore a silk button-down that only served to emphasize his startling, pale beauty. A statuesque

platinum blonde had her arms wrapped around one of his. Paris, no doubt.

“Wow, she’s hot,” Ben murmured. “Lucky bastard.”

The blonde woman wasn’t the one Wes found hot. His mouth went dry as Micah looked

up, and his light brown eyes met Wesley’s stare. A startling bolt of electricity jolted through

Wesley’s chest before Micah’s father stepped into his line of vision.

“What do you want?” he demanded. “Why are you here, Romero, and bringing the cops

too? This is a private party to celebrate my son’s engagement.” He smirked and glanced at Ben.

“To a woman.”

Wesley ignored him. He’d come out in high school so his sexual preference wasn’t much

of a secret—in civilian life. He was accustomed to snarky comments from close-minded people.

Still, it surprised him that Mr. Julian had bothered to take note of anything about him. Of course,

the man probably viewed it as another strike against Wesley’s parents.

“Sir, we were called out on a noise disturbance and arrived to find your son throwing

punches.”

Edward scowled. “I’m sure Romero started it. He might be light in the loafers, but he

likes to pick fights with my boy. I’m sure he has a crush on him.”

Light in the loafers? Wes would have laughed aloud if not for the distasteful implication

that he wanted Tai. Good God, he’d rather never have sex again than have anything to do with

that man.

“Let’s take this in the front yard, shall we?” the deputy suggested.

“Yeah,” Edward grunted. “I don’t want my guests to see this one nancing about. They’re

all offended by his type.”

Wes took a deep breath to fight the rage roiling in his chest. It was asses like Edward

Julian who caused gay men and women around the world to get beaten or to think suicide was

their only option.

“Sir, there’s no need to be rude,” the officer admonished.

“It’s my home and he’s an intruder. I’ll be as rude as I damn well please,” Edward

blustered, and Wesley smelled beer on his huff. He averted his face as they rejoined Tai and the

other officer. Edward went to stand beside his son, the pair essentially facing off against Wes and

Ben.

“Why don’t you get out of here?” Tai spat. “I’m sure you need your beauty rest before

another grueling day doing hair.”

He refused to rise to the bait. Were people really this stupid or was Tai throwing around

stereotypes to rile Wesley? Ben growled, and Wes shot out his hand to stop him from stepping

forward.

“We’re going,” he replied. “That’s all right, officer?”

“Go,” the deputy returned. “I know where you live if I need to find you.”

“Yeah, you fags all know where to get some ass,” Tai spat. Shaking his head, Wes turned

away. Suddenly, he was shoved from behind as Tai apparently broke ranks. The officers

hollered, but Wes was faster. He spun, grabbing instinctively at the arm. Tai’s limb was twisted

behind him before he could react. Wes leaned forward, forcing back revulsion at the man’s

unappealing natural scent mixed with stale cigarette smoke. “I’m pretty easygoing, asshole, but

don’t push me,” he hissed. “I put down bigger guys than you in Iraq.”

He thrust Tai into Deputy Escalus’ possession then, at the man’s nod, stalked across the

street. Annoyed by the whole situation, he glanced back and saw Tai being shoved into a car

while Mr. Julian yelled, his arms flailing with drunken emphasis, his finger occasionally jabbing

toward the Romero house.

Wes gritted his teeth. What a bunch of crap. This stupid feud was insane.

“Do they really think you’re a hairdresser?” Ben asked.

“Who the hell knows?” Wesley laughed. “They might think you are, too, I guess. It

doesn’t really matter in the scheme of things. They can think whatever the hell they want. If I

don’t see any of them again, it’ll be a day too soon. I’ve put up with this bullshit since I was old

enough to understand that we didn’t get along with the people across the street. I’ve gotten

blamed for more stuff I didn’t do…”

At Ben’s car, they paused. It was late, and Wesley knew his friend had to get rolling.

“Thanks for coming over for dinner,” Wes said as they shared a stiff man-hug.

“Welcome back. Finally,” Ben replied. Though, Wesley had been back in the States for a

few weeks, he’d only just returned to Verona because of his residual duties before his official

discharge. This was the first time they’d been able to get together.

“No sand, no missiles,” Wesley quipped. “It’s pretty damn good.” He glanced toward the

house. “I’ll go inside and report to the parents before I go. See you Sunday for the game?”

“Can’t wait to see it on that new big screen,” his friend replied. Neither mentioned that

the TV wasn’t particularly new anymore. Wesley had purchased it just before he’d been notified

to report for his last tour.

He watched Ben drive off, lifting his hand in a single wave before Ben turned from the

street. Resigned to hearing another tirade about the Julians, he went into the house.

Predictably, his parents bitched about their neighbors, and it was an hour before Wesley

finally left. The commotion across the street had ended, and a still silence filled the night.

Tai was nowhere to be seen. Wes wondered if he’d actually been arrested. Though

truthfully, he didn’t really care.

“Wesley?” a soft voice called, as he reached his car.

Startled, he looked up to find Micah stepping from the shadows. His hands were shoved

into his pockets, and Paris was nowhere to be seen. His mouth lifted in a rueful half-smile.

Wesley froze, stunned by yet another wash of desire as the moon bathed Micah in its soft

light. He couldn’t want this man. Even if Wes thought the feud was stupid, their families were

enemies. Hell, Micah’s brother would just as soon run him over with a car as speak to him.

“I just wanted to tell you I’m sorry about what happened over there. I couldn’t hear what

was said, but it was obvious my dad was as pleasant as usual.”

“Yeah,” Wesley acknowledged. “Look, it’s not your fault he was—” He stopped himself

from say an asshole and filled in, “Rude. I was crashing the party—”

“Fucking party,” Micah muttered under his breath, charming Wesley.

His chest tightened as the slighter man’s demeanor touched him. He seemed both

embarrassed by his family and interested in Wesley. Warmth spread through Wes even as he told

himself that there was no way Micah Julian could be interested in him. Micah was engaged. To a

woman. Of course, Wes knew of gay man who played hetero for society—hell, he’d been doing

it for years in the Marines. Maybe Micah was gay or even bi-sexual…

“Well, anyway,” Micah continued. He shuffled his feet.

Wes lifted an eyebrow. “You weren’t thrilled about the party, I take it.”

“Hell, no. I don’t know what they were thinking. A party to celebrate my engagement to

a woman I haven’t proposed to? Thankfully, Paris has a sense of humor. She thinks it’s funny as

shit. Me? Not so much.”

“You’re not engaged?” Wesley leaned against his car, eyeing Micah speculatively. This

was the closest he’d ever been to the man, and God help him, his cock was reacting to the

proximity. Surprising need boiled in his balls as his sharp eyes took in the chiseled cut of

Micah’s jaw. It contrasted his youthful features, bright eyes and full mouth. Damn, but Wesley

wanted to pull that bottom lip between his teeth.

He crossed his arms over his chest before he acted on his need. “Are they trying to push

you into something?”

“You might say so.” Micah glanced over at his house, as if someone there would hear

him. “Paris is my best friend; she’s not my girlfriend. After this, she owes me big time. It’s all

her fault. She told her mom we were engaged to get her mom off her back about dating. She

knew I wouldn’t care. I’m gone all the time and I…well, I don’t date. Her mom told mine and…

It all snowballed.” He drove his fingers through his artfully shaggy hair. “I don’t know why I’m

telling you this—”

“Maybe because—” Wesley stopped and shook his head. He’d been slapped by insta-lust

but that didn’t mean Micah had. “I need to get going. I have an early morning tomorrow.”

Micah’s face fell. “Oh…” He tilted his head, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Maybe

because what?”

Shit…

Wesley coughed, clearing his throat. “Nothing.”

The other man grasped Wesley’s forearm. Goose bumps lifted on Wesley’s skin and his

cock went rock-hard, his body urging him to please, please pull Micah into his arms.

“Wesley,” Micah pleaded. “Tell me. I…just, tell me.”

Micah’s eyes shown with sincerity and none of the malice Wesley got from the other

Julians. Need burned there, need so similar to what gripped him that Wes felt dizzy. He struggled

for control as desire filled his chest and grasped his balls. Blood thundered through his head as

he stared at Micah’s mouth.

Wes ran his tongue over his bottom lip. He wanted to see his cock disappearing into

Micah’s throat. His erection jerked at the thought. He had to fuck Micah. There was no question.

He had to fuck him… And then, he’d hold him and learn everything that made up the soft-

spoken man, everything that made him smile and made him hurt. Everything…

The world shrank down to the two of them, neither speaking, neither moving as their

gazes communicated. Deep need so much like Wes’ haunted Micah’s eyes, too. Wesley knew he

had to take a chance. A connection like this didn’t happen every day.

He didn’t just want Micah’s body; he wanted his soul.

A dog barked nearby, breaking Wes from his dream-like state, and he shook his head

slightly as cottony trance that had surrounded them lifted. Even the silence seemed loud as his

awareness returned.

Micah still held Wesley’s arm. Wesley reached out with his free hand and flattened it in

the middle of Micah’s chest. He stiffened, as if expecting to get shoved.

“Lightning,” Wesley whispered, not caring that he probably sounded crazy and was

giving a Julian fodder against him. “Right here. I took one look at you and…electricity bolted

straight through me.”

“Yes,” Micah breathed, his fingers tightening on Wes’ arm. Wes knew the grasp would

be burned into him forever. He’d always feel it. Another slash of energy seared through him,

engraving the connection onto his heart.

“What are you doing tomorrow?” he asked quietly, still afraid of being shot down. He

didn’t want to leave Micah, but he had to. If he didn’t get in his car and drive away, he’d have

Micah bent inside while he fucked him right in the driveway. They’d both scream so loud the

whole neighborhood would know.

Now, wouldn’t that be a story.

A wide smile stretched Micah’s lips. “You tell me.”

He grinned in return. “I have to work tomorrow, but why don’t you meet me at my

apartment for dinner—I don’t think it would be a good idea for me to pick you up here.”

“Uh, no. You’re right that would be a bad idea.” Micah glanced at the house again, and

Wesley longed to turn him back and tell him not to worry about his family. He didn’t have that

right. Not yet. So why did it seem as if the two of them had been destined for each other since

time began?

Because you need to fuck. It’s been over two years, man. There’s no such thing as love at

first sight, dork, he told himself. It was the dose of reality he needed.

Micah sighed. “Do you think the feud is as stupid as I do?”

“Completely asinine,” Wesley agreed.

“Good. So what time and where do you live?”

Chapter Two

A work day had never been longer. Wes’ job as an architect was a far cry from his work

in the desert. Since he’d only been back a week, management was starting him slow. He’d been

assigned the design of a single family home in a new development. Until now, his boss had

handled it, but he was looking to hand the whole subdivision project over to Wes—as long as

Wes could prove he was still up to speed after his active duty. In addition to that, a mall plan

he’d worked on before deployment had been shelved for the better part of the period he’d been

away. Now it was time for him to work on it once more as those in charge had finally gotten

zoning approved.

It was enough to keep Wes busy—really busy, actually—but today, his thoughts kept

drifting to Micah and the feelings they’d both experienced last night. Crazy. It was the only

thing he could call it. But the connected sensation hadn’t gone away. More than once, he’d

caught his thoughts drifting to the man before he’d reined them back in. He couldn’t afford

lustful fantasies of Micah bent over his drafting table when he was supposed to be proving

himself up to snuff at work.

Now, he anxiously paced his apartment as he waited for Micah to arrive. Over and over,

he’d replayed their conversation while excitement and disbelief warred inside him. What was he

doing anyway? There was no way a relationship could go anywhere. Yet, he couldn’t stop the

need. He needed to spend time with Micah. It wouldn’t end well; he knew that already. They had

too much opposition facing them. They might be adults, but families couldn’t be underestimated.

They would not be happy.

He drove his hands through his hair, glad it had grown out some in the past month.

Actually, his parents might not be awful about Micah. They wanted Wes to be happy. They’d try.

He glanced at his watch then went onto the bathroom to make sure his hair wasn’t

standing on end. No, it had sprung right back into place. Feeling twitchy, he fussed with his

collar then straightened his belt, checking the way his shirt tucked into his pants. Pleased with

the smooth line, he paced back into the living room then spun and went into the kitchen to see

how the wine was chilling.

Good lord! He hadn’t been this jittery in the desert with snipers all around. He’d learned

to nearly ignore the sounds of war, yet the idea of being alone with Micah had set off kamikaze

butterflies in his belly. His hands were clammy as he waited. He rubbed them together as he

wandered back into his sparse living room and scanned the space one more time to be sure it was

picked up.

What was he so concerned about? Micah was coming to see him, not his place. If Wesley

had his way, the other man wouldn’t even notice the apartment. Still, he wanted to make a good

impression. Micah was from a family who’d always looked down on the Romeros. Though he

seemed different from the others, Wesley wouldn’t add fuel to that fire.

He grinned. Micah was definitely different from his father and brother. Their negative

beliefs about gay men were untenable. Wesley couldn’t help but wonder if they were oblivious to

the youngest Julian’s sexual orientation. They had to be, or there would be no way Micah could

be able to live in such an acrimonious home. Wesley worried what would happen when they

found out.

And they would find out.

A sick feeling went through him. He swallowed back his concern for Micah as another

thought disquieted him and his gut lurched. Already? He was worried about Micah already?

Before he could examine the feeling, a knock sounded on his door, and his cock twitched

in reaction.

Down boy! He might not be the sort who fucks on the first date. But lord, Wesley hoped

he was. He’d never wanted any man the way he’d instantly wanted Micah.

You never wanted to keep and protect one either.

Telling his inner voice to shut the fuck up, he hurried to the door. His hand on the knob,

he took a deep breath to calm himself so he didn’t appear too needy. His heart thumping like a

wild thing, he swung open the door.

“Hi,” Micah said, grinning. His top teeth sank into his bottom lip. Wes couldn’t deny the

need that shone in the man’s eyes. Need equal to his own. Micah’s anticipation was undeniable,

and Wesley let his own desire show.

“Hi.”

Damn, but Micah was adorable. Wesley wanted to yank him into his arms and protect

him from the whole big bad world.

“I…” Unexpectedly, Micah stepped forward. Reaching up, he looped one hand around

Wesley’s shoulder and drew down his head. His hand buried in the back of Wesley’s short hair.

Their lips crashed together, and Wesley reflexively wrapped his arms around the smaller man’s

waist, pulling him close. Though there was a several-inch disparity in their heights, there was no

mistaking Micah’s arousal. And he knew Micah wouldn’t be able to miss his, either.

“I wanted to kiss you so bad last night,” Micah murmured against Wesley’s lips.

Wesley silenced him, sealing their mouths together and pressing inside. His tongue swept

into the warm recess of Micah’s sweet mouth, tasting the mint on which he’d recently sucked.

Micah moaned, and Wesley’s arms tightened. He tugged him inside the apartment and kicked

shut the door. Immediately, he pressed Micah to the surface, forcing him to his toes so their

bodies aligned as they rubbed together.

Lord, he tasted so good, smelled so good… Wesley liked Micah’s cologne. Even more,

Micah’s male scent overloaded his senses and filled his cock. Blood pulsed through Wesley’s

temples at his startling out-of-control reaction to this man. He could no more slow the kiss and

step back than he could stop breathing.

Yet, kissing Micah was enough to soothe the beast that had been raging inside him all

day. He wanted to fuck the man, but just having him here, being close, touching him, body-to-

body, it was enough. For now.

Their chins scraped together as they each angled for more. He could practically feel

Micah’s heart beating against his. Their hands grasped at each other’s bodies, smoothing over

shoulders, sliding down chests, fisting in shirt fronts. Wesley trembled as Micah splayed his

hand over his belly before skimming it over to clasp his hip. His long, weather-chilled fingers

slid around to spread on Wes’ back.

Their cock’s rubbed together through their trousers, the hard lengths catching and

pressing as fucking became a foregone conclusion. Micah’s ass wouldn’t leave here before

feeling Wes’ shaft deep inside it.

Suddenly, as if that knowledge was enough, the need in Wes calmed though it didn’t

lessen. The kiss slowly turned from frantic to languid as the tension in Wesley loosened.

“Fuck…” Wes breathed, as he finally lifted his mouth from Micah’s and moved back

enough to let the man return to flat feet.

“Yes, please,” Micah laughed.

Wesley chuckled. “Come on in,” he said. “Welcome.”

Taking Micah’s hand, he pulled him toward the living room and the leather sectional that

faced his large, flat-screen TV.

“Do you welcome everyone like that?”

“Oh, yeah, sure. They loved it in the desert. Kill ‘em with kindness,” Wes joked.

“The desert?”

“Yeah, I guess you wouldn’t know about it since our families…” He trailed off not

wanting to go into those semantics again. He indicated for Micah to sit. “Well, anyway, Marine,”

he said in shorthand, waving vaguely at his chest. “Recently back. Can I get you something to

drink? Beer, Coke, water…?”

“Iraq or Afghanistan?” Micah asked, ignoring the question.

Wesley sat on the arm of the sectional, careful to keep space between him and Micah. If

he sat beside Micah, they’d be kissing again—and he didn’t trust that the soft surface wouldn’t

lend itself nicely to a good, rough fucking.

“Iraq. Third tour there. But I’ve been discharged. While they could call me back, it’s

unlikely. Drink?”

Micah shrugged. “Whatever you’re having.”

Wesley nodded. “A beer.”

He headed for his tiny kitchen and heard Micah immediately on his heels.

“So you were ‘out’? In the military, I mean.”

“Oh hell no. I went in before Don’t Ask Don’t Tell was repealed, and frankly, once it

was, that was a bullet I didn’t really want to dodge. I was already dodging enough enemy

munitions. It didn’t make sense to bring on something else. Units get close over there and you

have to trust one another. They would have been pissed at me.” He turned then sucked in a hard

breath to find Micah directly behind him.

“That makes sense,” Micah said. “I’m…uh…not.”

Wesley nodded. “I kinda figured. Your dad and Tai don’t seem too open to it.”

“Understatement,” the other man laughed. “I never go out. I don’t see guys unless I’m

traveling. And that’s rather anonymous. Kinda dangerous too, I guess. One-night stands and all

that. Still, it’s safer than dealing with Dad and Tai.”

“Where do they think you are tonight? Obviously, they don’t know you’re here.”

“With Paris. But she’s on night shift at the hospital. She’s a maternity nurse over there—

they won’t check up on me.” Micah reached up and cupped Wesley’s cheek. “Will you think I’m

slutty if I tell you I don’t really want something to drink? I don’t really want dinner. I just want

to be naked with you.”

Wesley’s heart sped up. “You just want to fuck.”

Micah’s face squinched slightly. “On the first date? Horrors!” His eyes sparkled and

Wesley knew he was joking. “Really,” Micah continued. “We can do whatever. I just feel…

Well, you’re gonna think I’m crazy. I don’t understand it, but I feel, um, compelled to be with

you. Here. Near you. Touching you.”

Wesley leaned forward, cupping the back of Micah’s head then kissing him. “I get it. I

don’t think you’re crazy…or slutty.”

Forgetting the beers, he twined his fingers with Micah’s and led him toward the bedroom

he used. He didn’t turn on the lamps when they entered, instead letting the city lights that

streamed through his windows illuminate the room. He tipped Micah onto the bed and straddled

him. His arms caged the smaller man’s body as he leaned over him.

“We can be crazy together, huh?” he offered.

Micah lifted his head, meeting Wesley’s lips. “Sounds perfect.”

Strange excitement flooded Micah as he gazed up into Wesley Romero’s blue eyes. Sure

he’d been excited before, but this…

Somehow, this encounter seemed edged with a danger no other man had offered. It

wasn’t because Wesley was a Marine or that Micah suspected the man might hurt him—he

didn’t. It was more… A need. A knowledge. Being with Wesley was dangerous because he knew

he’d get attached, but there was no way they could last. There was too much against them.

It frightened Micah, but he couldn’t turn from it. He had to be with Wesley. It had pulled

him across the street to the Romero house last night. It had brought him here tonight. But that

knowledge… Deep down, he knew this relationship with Wesley would change his life. Then it

would shatter him.

Yet, he couldn’t walk away. He couldn’t stop the inevitability.

“What’s wrong? Do you want to stop?” Wesley asked, sitting up and looking down at

him. He rested backward, his ass cradling Micah’s cock, and Micah groaned at the sensation,

wondering if Wesley would ever let him top. He rotated his hips upward, pressing against the

crease he could feel through Wes’ pants.

Remembering through the sensation that Wes had asked him something, Micah shook his

head. “Fine. I’m fine. Don’t stop…”

How could he explain that he was sure they were doomed, but that he was masochistic

enough to go forward anyway because he couldn’t walk away from the power of the connection

he felt zinging between them? He’d wanted Wesley since they’d been teenagers and he’s been

forbidden to talk to the “ruffian neighbor boy” from across the street.

And that was that. Whatever would be would be.

Sitting, he reached for the buttons on Wesley’s white shirt and began slipping them

through their holes while Wesley knelt over his lap. Micah smiled to see the white T-shirt

beneath the garment. He’d always found it sexy when men wore undershirts.

Wesley shrugged out of the over-garment while Micah bunched his fingers in the soft

cotton and pulled it from Wesley’s black trousers. Micah groaned at the hard belly he revealed.

Leaning forward, he pressed his lips to the ridges of muscles. Wesley lifted up onto his knees,

and Micah licked and nipped his way lower, exploring the man’s entire six pack. He rimmed

Wesley’s navel, before focusing on the narrow pleasure trail that started below it and led to his

waistband.

“Yes?” he asked, his hands on the closure of the pants.

“God, yes,” Wesley replied. His hips jerked forward slightly, and Micah suspected the

movement was involuntary, just an instinctual demand of Wesley’s body.

Micah unbuckled Wesley’s thin, leather belt then flicked open the button with his thumb.

Slowly, he lowered the zipper while his whole body throbbed for him to hurry. He vibrated with

the need to see Wesley, to have that cock between his lips, to taste him. The pants dropped to

pool over Micah’s lap. He peeled back the briefs that had been beneath.

“Wesley…” His breath suspended as he stared at the wide, globular head he’d revealed. It

capped a thick, heavily veined shaft that pulsed as he licked his lips. Unable to think beyond the

need to feel him against his tongue, Micah leaned forward and engulfed Wesley’s erection,

taking him to his throat.

“Fuck yeah,” Wesley gasped. He gripped Micah’s hair as Micah rolled his eyes upward

to watch at the beautiful, pleasure-shattered face above him. Wesley’s eyes closed as his lips

parted. His fingers tightened. His hips rocked as he fucked Micah’s mouth.

Micah took all the blessed length that he could. Blindly, he explored with his hands,

finding Wesley’s lightly furred sac and fondling him. He tilted his head to take him deeper.

Wesley pulled almost completely from Micah’s lips, and Micah tasted pre-cum as it spread

across his tongue, salty-smooth. He let his teeth lightly rake Wesley’s shaft as the man pushed

deep once more.

“Fuck, your mouth feels so good. I bet your ass feels even better,” Wesley said. He swore

as Micah increased his suction, pressing the tip of his tongue into the sensitive spot beneath the

crown of Wesley’s cock. Wesley groaned. “Oh you like sucking cock, don’t you? You suck a lot

of cock?”

Micah pulled free, despite the tug of Wesley’s fingers in his hair. “Not so many, and none

as good as yours.” He pulled lightly on Wesley’s sac, tugging him closer. “And I want more of

it.”

“No.”

“No?” he asked, surprised.

Wesley shook his head, a devilish grin pulling at his lips. “When I come, it’s not going to

be in that pretty mouth of yours.”

“My mouth’s not pretty,” Micah grumbled.

“Oh yes it is.” Wesley pushed him backward, and Micah released him to fall onto the

bed. Wesley cupped his chin. “So, so pretty stretched around my cock. So pretty waiting for my

kiss.”

“Pretty’s a girly word. I’m smaller than you but geez—”

His words were interrupted by Wesley’s mouth on his. The man’s tongue thrust inside,

kissing him deeply, quickly. Then he pulled back. “Take the compliment, Micah.”

Wesley moved to the side and shucked his pants the rest of the way off then kicked off

his socks. He stood at the end of the bed and reached out a hand. Micah’s mouth went dry as he

got his first look at his lover naked. He put his hand in Wesley’s and let him pull him to his feet.

Quickly, Wes removed Micah’s clothes, his actions far more hasty than Micah’s had

been, and soon, Micah was naked, too. He shivered from anticipation and strove to stand tall

though he knew he wasn’t as built as Wesley.

Wesley reached out and drew his knuckle between Micah’s pecs before tracing the curve

of one. “Perfect,” he murmured.

“Not as big as you.”

The corner of Wesley’s mouth lifted and he shrugged. “I’m a thug. You’ve got a helluva

great form.”

“Being on stage…”

Wesley tilted his head. “On stage?”

“Pianist. Micah Julian. Kinda famous.” Micah smirked, loving Wesley’s perplexed look.

Wesley liked him for being him, not for his fame. That was refreshing. “I have a few albums…”

“Cool.”

With that sole reaction—rather less than star-struck—Wesley took Micah to the bed. He

covered Micah, their legs entwining as they kissed. His lips trailed down Micah’s slim neck as

Micah arched beneath him, opening himself for Wesley’s possession. Wesley nipped on his

collar bone then lightly bit his shoulder before moving lower and circling a nipple with his

tongue.

“Wesley,” Micah gasped

But Wesley was far from finished. His large, callused hands explored Micah while his

mouth traveled lower. Micah cried out, his hips jerking from the mattress as the burning warmth

of Wesley’s mouth surged over his cock. Micah’s fingers clenched the blankets as Wes’ moved

up and down his length. The man’s mouth suctioned around Micah’s tip until Micah writhed.

“Wesley…” he said again. “You’re gonna make me come…”

“That’s rather the point,” Wesley replied then immediately redoubled his efforts.

Micah couldn’t stop himself. His eyes squeezed shut as thunder rolled over him. His

release poured from him as Wesley swallowed every drop. Still shaking, Micah dropped a weak

hand on Wesley’s head as Wesley licked away the remnants of the orgasm.

“And now, I want your ass,” Wesley told him, moving up his body.

“It’s yours.”

The resulting grin held smug determination. Wesley kissed him, letting him taste himself

on his lover’s tongue. “It will be.”

Chapter Three

Wesley reached for lube and a condom from his bedside table, enjoying the sensation of

Micah beneath him. He was the perfect fit, both hard and compact. His body hair felt good

against Wesley’s skin, and he just knew that ass would squeeze his control away. It had been so

long for him. He hoped he could last until he made Micah scream with pleasure. Lord…it’d been

almost two years since he’d had sex—with someone else. Knowing he’d be on edge, he’d

brought himself in the shower, but just holding Micah had almost made him come again. And

Micah’s mouth around his cock… It could have been a real quick night.

“Ready?” he asked, wanting to be on pace with Micah.

“More than. Please, Wes. I need you.”

Wesley put on the condom—there was no way he wanted to stop for that later. He wanted

in Micah now!

He flicked open the lube and squirted some onto his fingers. Micah moaned as Wesley

pressed a finger to his ass. Firmly, he shoved until the tip pushed inside.

“More…” Micah breathed. He lifted his ass into Wesley’s touch as Wesley worked his

finger deeper. He moved it in and out of the tight passage then added a second. Carefully, he

scissored the digits, loosening Micah and savoring the fiery squeeze of his body. Micah drew up

his knees, opening himself further. “Just do it. I don’t care if it hurts. I need you. I want to feel

you in me. Tonight. Tomorrow… Please…”

Wesley looked down at Micah’s partially shadowed face. Sincerity burned from his gaze.

Micah grabbed Wesley’s shoulders, pulling him closer, and Wesley removed his fingers then

directed his cock between Micah’s butt cheeks, the tip getting slick, but it wasn’t enough.

Quickly, he lubed his shaft then pushed up to Micah’s opening.

Slowly, he thrust inside. His mouth covered Micah’s, capturing his gasp as his cock

breached Micah’s anus. He paused, waiting a moment for Micah’s breaths to steady before

moving forward.

The fisting clasp was just as sweet, just as control-stealing, as he’d suspected. He drove

to the hilt. His forehead dropped to Micah’s shoulder while the pair of them panted. But the

machine inside Wes wouldn’t stop. He pulled nearly all the way out, stopping just shy of his tip

popping free, before he surged back in, starting a smooth pistoning motion that scraped

repeatedly over Micah’s prostate.

Micah’s cries filled the room as he clutched Wesley’s shoulders and rocked into the

thrusts. Wesley grasped Micah’s cock as it hardened again and stroked his hand in time with his

drives.

“Wesley,” Micah screamed, his cum flooding over Wesley’s hand. His ass closed like a

vise on Wesley’s cock and Wes’ cry joined Micah’s as he spilled inside his lover.

He collapsed over Micah, catching himself on his elbows to keep his full weight off the

smaller man as they struggled for breath.

“Can I feed you now?” he quipped.

Micah lifted up and kissed Wes’ temple before sliding his lips over to his ear. “The only

thing I’m hungry for is your arms.”

“I can do that.” Wesley could do that for a long time, but how long would it be before the

undeniable forces of their families pulled them apart.

He slipped free of Micah and drew him close as he turned them to their sides. All he

wanted was to hold him. He’d worry about the rest later.

* * * *

“Romero! Romero! Hey! Where are you, Romero?”

What the hell? Wesley recognized Micah’s voice outside, but he’d just left him in the

bedroom a few minutes ago when he’d gone to get them something to eat.

He stepped onto the fire escape to see Micah down on the sidewalk. “What are you

doing?” he called. “Are you going home? Do you need me to drive you? Your father might—”

“Fuck my father.”

“I’d rather not,” Wesley replied drily. “What’s really wrong?”

“Nothing.” He grinned widely and threw out an arm. “Romero, Romero, wherefore art

thou Romero?”

“Oh for fuck’s sake…” Wesley laughed. “Julian, get your ass up here.”

If Micah kept this up, their secret romance would be public gossip by the time the eleven

o’clock news rolled. In a town this small, that would mean everyone would know.

“My fair Romero beckons, and he is my sun.”

“Shakespeare’s ghost is going to kick your ass.”

“You’ll protect me.”

“Come back inside,” Wesley urged. Slipping back into his apartment, he went to the front

door. Opening it, he leaned against the doorjamb and waited.

Micah bounded up the steps.

“I was just being silly,” he laughed, pressing into Wesley. “No one around here knows

me. But you know what? I’m sick of kowtowing to my family and hiding who I am. But don’t

you think it’s funny. Romero and Julian? Kinda like Romeo and Juliet?”

“Can’t say I know much about it except that they died in the end.” His arms wrapped

Micah’s body. He didn’t think they’d die, but he had a sinking feeling they wouldn’t have a

happily ever after either.

“Some people say they were real people,” Micah said, slipping from him and into the

apartment. “Do you believe in reincarnation? Romeo and Juliet trying to find each other and

replaying the same story over and over?”

“Do you?” Wesley asked, following his lover and wondering if he’d slipped a gasket.

“No,” Micah laughed. He sank onto the couch and pulled Wesley to sit next to him. “But

the look on your face. I’m not crazy. I studied human behavior and history in college though.

People repeat the same patterns again and again. We just can’t get along.”

“I think we get along just fine,” Wesley murmured, nuzzling Micah’s neck.

Micah sighed in pleasure, leaning his head to the side to give Wesley better access. “If

only our families didn’t hate each other.”

“I can’t say my parents hate your parents,” Wesley supplied. “It’s more…disdain. Kinda

an attitude of ‘if you’re going to be that way, then back at you’. Mostly, they get along with

everyone, but I guess my mom dated your dad at one time then left him for my dad. Honestly,

you’d think they’d all be over it by now.”

“I wish. They’re going to make this difficult.”

“Yeah.” Wesley didn’t bother bringing up the Julians’ feelings on homosexuality. It

didn’t bear repeating. Micah had to be well-versed on it.

Wesley turned to recline on the sofa and pulled Micah over him. “Do you ever stay over

at Paris’ place?”

“Never. But we are engaged, right?” Micah laughed. “Are you asking me to stay over?

Because, yes.”

“Then I’m asking,” Wesley replied. He pulled Micah down to him and kissed him

thoroughly.

“Yes, definitely, yes. Just let me call Paris so she doesn’t show up at my house for

Saturday breakfast.”

“Awkward.” Wesley laughed. “Have her come over here. I’m sure your fiancée will want

to meet the man in your life.”

Micah narrowed his eyes at him. “You’re not trying to start some sort of ménage thing,

are you?”

“Hell. No. Your cute ass is all I can handle right now.”

“Great… Cute ass. Pretty mouth. You sure you don’t think I’m a woman?”

Wesley clapped his hand down on that cute ass. Micah moaned. This Marine liked to be a

little rough, and Micah loved it. His rear still ached a little from their vigorous fucking, but he

had no complaints. It was exactly what he’d wanted.

He didn’t think he’d ever stop smiling—at least, no time soon. It’d been a long time since

he’d felt so content.

“I definitely know you’re not a woman,” Wesley murmured sleepily as they relaxed.

“Too hard and solid. Too cocky.”

Micah closed his eyes. “You like my cock…iness.”

“I definitely do,” Wesley replied. His hand drifted up and down Micah’s back as the

movement lulled them both to sleep. Even so, Micah’s cock stirred. He wanted Wesley again,

Thankfully, they had all night.

* * * *

When Micah roused, he found himself alone on the couch. Immediately, he knew he was

at Wesley’s but where was the man? Wesley had placed a light throw over him, turned down the

lights then disappeared.

Sitting up, Micah looked around. The digital clock beneath the TV said it was three in the

morning. He supposed Wesley had moved into his bed, but this wasn’t exactly what Micah had

had in mind when Wesley had asked him to stay over. Steeling himself for possible rejection, he

rose and padded into the bedroom.

To his surprise, it was silent, and as he got closer to the bed, he found it was empty.

Okay. Fine. What the fuck?

A quiet sound caught his attention, and he went back to the living room to investigate. It

was then he saw light coming from beneath a door on the opposite side of the area. Wesley had

mentioned at one point that this was a two-bedroom place. Though Micah hadn’t gotten a grand

tour, he suspected that was the second bedroom.

Cautiously, he opened the door, not wanting to startle Wesley and unsure what he’d find.

To his surprise, Wesley was running on a treadmill while listening to an iPod. Sweat stained his

T-shirt, and it was obvious he’d been at this for awhile. Mesmerized, Micah stared at the fluid

motion of Wes’ arms and legs pumping as he ran on a medium incline.

And again…what the fuck?

Moving into the room, he edged into Wes’s line of sight only to realize Wes had his eyes

closed. He appeared to be in another world as he ran and ran, his face flushed with exertion, his

veins throbbing steadily.

Micah wanted to put his hand over Wes’, to bring him out of the trance, but he was afraid

to touch the man and perhaps startle him into stumbling. Watching Wesley run himself into

oblivion, Micah’s heart stuttered. It was as if his lover ran from demons, and Micah could only

guess what they might be. After three tours in Iraq, Wes had surely seen more atrocities than any

human should.

Micah sank to his haunches, leaning his back on a weight bench and staring at Wesley’s

flexing muscles. He listened to the rhythmic thumping of Wesley’s feet on the treadmill and

knew he should sneak out of the room before he was discovered. He couldn’t.

After what seemed forever, Wesley slowed then finally stopped. Breathing heavily, he

bent and rested his forehead on the edge of control pad in front of him. Micah rose. Tentatively,

he put his hand on Wesley’s shoulder, lending strength though he didn’t know for what.

Wesley started then rolled his head sideways to look at Micah, his eyes haunted.

“What is it?” Micah asked.

The other man shook his head. “It’s…” He shrugged. “I don’t sleep much. Maybe a

couple hours a night.”

“And then you do this?” No wonder he was chiseled.

“Running, weights…sometimes other stuff.”

Micah studied him. Wes’ words were clipped, and for the first time tonight, he

seemed…closed off. “It’s from over there?” he ventured, not wanting to push too far.

“No more than thousands of other guys have seen.”

“Wesley…”

The man shook his head. “I’m fine. I came back whole, and if I can’t sleep then I can’t

sleep. At least, I’m not in a box in a bunch of pieces.”

Turning, he stepped from the treadmill then stalked out of the room. Micah followed,

unsure what to say as Wesley headed into the bathroom then shut the door behind himself. A

decisive click closed Micah out as he stood staring at the white-painted wood.

A lead weight seemed to drop into his stomach, and he knew he’d overstepped his

boundaries. He just couldn’t stand to see anyone so…ripped apart inside.

But this wasn’t his challenge. It wasn’t his place. And Wesley had just showed him so.

After all, they’d only been together for one night. Just this night.

It seemed pretty clear that Wesley didn’t want him here either. As the shower started in

the bathroom, Micah looked around for his things. There wasn’t really much. He’d gotten mostly

dressed when he’d gone down to the sidewalk to act like a clown.

He felt like a fool now.

Chapter Four

Wesley was halfway through his shower when he snapped out of his stupor enough to

realize what an ass he’d been. Just one night. He couldn’t go one fucking night without falling

prey to the ghoulish nightmares that even haunted his waking hours and kept him from sleep.

He rested his head against the shower wall, closing his eyes and knowing without going

to look that he’d driven Micah away. His jaw clenched as emotions roiled through him.

Stupid. Stupid. He was so fucking stupid! Why couldn’t he control this? Why couldn’t he

get a grip on the fact he was home and there weren’t potential bombs littering every mile.

Snipers weren’t poised to take him out. He wouldn’t be drinking coffee with a friend in the

morning and sending him home in a box at night.

He scowled. He wouldn’t be fucking drinking coffee with anyone in the morning. Jesus,

he was an asshole. And he really felt…something…for Micah. He’d have to fix this. Somehow.

If Micah would even speak to him after the psychotic ex-Marine had bitten off his head.

To his surprise, keys clattered to the marble sink outside his shower.

He straightened, opening his eyes. His imagination?

“Wesley,” Micah ground out, his voice solid and real.

Wesley pulled aside the curtain enough to look through the steam and into the rest of the

room. Micah stared at him, jaw set, arms crossed over his chest. He was quite possibly the best,

most adorable sight Wesley had ever seen—not that he’d let Micah know he thought him

adorable. Not right now.

“Didn’t I lock that door?” he asked.

Micah huffed. “As if that flimsy lock could keep out a two year old? Please.” His lips

pressed together for a moment, and his nostrils flared. “I thought about leaving, you know.”

“Why didn’t you?” Wesley asked, his tone inquisitive and not at all demanding. Still, he

winced inwardly when he realized Micah might think he wanted him to leave.

“Because.”

“Because?”

“I don’t want to.” Micah made a face, his lips compressed with frustration. “I don’t think

you really want me to.”

“I don’t,” Wesley conceded. Pushing the curtain further open, he reached out a hand.

Micah took it and stepped into the water, clothes and all. His stockinged feet bumped Wesley’s

toes as he moved close. Wesley groaned and hugged Micah even closer, ignoring the pervading

sadness that seemed to surround them. He vowed to get around it and repair the damage he’d

stupidly wrought tonight.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, hugging Micah. “I didn’t mean to snap at you like that.”

“How long has it been going on?”

“A long time.”

“While you were in?” Micah looked up at him, water streaming down the side of his face

and around his nose. Droplets clung to his eyelashes, and emphasized the concern in his amber-

colored eyes. “No one noticed?”

Wesley shrugged. “You learn to hide it. There are a thousand other things going on. I

wasn’t raving and screaming out in my sleep. I was functioning and getting my job done. I just

wasn’t sleeping. It’s pretty easy to convince people that you’re just one of those who doesn’t

need more than a few hours.”

His wet hand came up to cup Micah’s cheek. “Thank you for not leaving. I was sure

you’d gone.”

It was hard for him to admit his feelings. Gut-twisting emptiness plagued him as the

many deaths he’d witnessed haunted his nights. He wanted to hide it from Micah, to shield him

from the ugliness, but he didn’t try as they stood beneath the steaming water. Micah’s presence

seeped into his soul, a comfort he couldn’t explain.

The thought of Micah leaving shook him, rattling away some of the detritus that cluttered

up his psyche. Suddenly, it was imperative to fight his way through the muzzy curtains of pain

and focus on the slight-figured man in his arms.

Micah grinned. “When lightning strikes you, it makes it hard to just walk away. It’s not

something you find every day.”

Turning his head, he kissed the inside of Wesley’s palm then his head dipped slightly and

he bit the base of Wesley’s thumb. Wesley shivered as Micah’s mouth traveled up his hand then

engulfed his first two fingers, sucking hard. His cock went poker hard with the need to be in

Micah’s mouth again. And then his sweet, fiery ass.

Chuckling at the sodden clothes the other man wore, Wesley reached for the hem of the

shirt and yanked it upward, pulling it off Micah and tossing it to the floor where it landed with a

wet thud. His pants clung and fought, but after some struggling and laughter, they followed.

Soon they were both naked beneath the shower’s spray. Their cocks dueled as they pressed close

to one another, words finished, pain receding, swallowed by great swells of their lust for one

another.

Wesley held Micah’s head in both hands and kissed him. Micah…his touchstone and the

only one who’d ever cared about the terrors inside him. The only one who’d ever known.

Micah nipped at Wesley’s lower lip. “Are we done in here? I want to go to bed.” The side

of his mouth lifted. “And tire you out.”

* * * *

Micah had never felt better. His mouth turned up on one side as he sank into the comfort

surrounding him as the gray light of morning filtered into the bedroom. Wes’ bedroom and Wes

was curled behind him, his arms holding Micah tightly.

Absently, drawing his fingers along one of Wes’ muscular arms, Micah had to admit they

fit well together. He liked the way Wes’ larger body seemed to wrap about him. In this embrace,

Micah felt safe. Protected. It was strange actually. He hadn’t realized he’d needed that, but

suddenly, he realized he’d been like a loose piece of paper, skittering and cartwheeling in the

wind. He’d dodged in and out of his father and Tai’s grasps for years, constantly traveling,

hiding himself, misleading them, keeping them from knowing the true Micah Julian.

Wes made him want to be transparent. He wanted everyone to know who he was and

what he felt for this man who held him so tightly. How could he feel so connected so quickly?

With barely more than a glance the other night, he’d belonged to Wes.

The man’s fingers trailed slowly up and down Micah’s chest as Micah thought.

“I can feel you thinking,” Wes said.

“Mmm-hmm,” Micah admitted.

“Everything okay?”

He ached a bit from their vigorous love-making the night before, but he hadn’t a single

complaint about that. “Perfect. Can we just stay here forever? Forget about everything else?”

He felt Wes’ chest shudder as he silently laughed. “You can stay right here as long as you

want.” He nipped the side of Micah’s neck. “Stay tonight. Stay the rest of the weekend, until I

have to go back to work on Monday.”

“Sounds wonderful.”

Words faded away as they enjoyed just resting against one another. Other than to go

throw Micah’s clothes into the dryer, he’d stayed in bed the rest of the night. Micah considered

that improvement. They could remain here for awhile too. Miraculously, Micah’s phone had

survived the shower, and when Wes had brought it to him, Micah’s had had a text from Paris

telling him she’d pulled an extra shift.

Wes kissed Micah’s shoulder, his hand drifting down to curl around Micah’s hip. Micah

curled his arm up to bury his fingers in Micah’s hair. It felt so good to lie here with him and give

himself over to pleasure without worrying about behavior or other people’s opinions. No one

else mattered. This was just them wrapped in the magical cocoon of early morning stillness.

Even the quickening of their breathing didn’t break the spell. Micah moaned quietly as

Wes slipped his hand around to grasp Micah’s cock. Sure, strong fingers pulled along the rigid

length, sending tremors into Micah’s pleasure centers.

“I want you again,” Wes muttered, his stiff erection prodding Micah’s buttocks.

“You can have me all you want.”

Wes groaned. “You might regret that. I might tie you to this bed and keep you here

forever.”

Micah turned in his arms so that he rested on his back. Holding Wes’ gaze, he lifted his

hands over his head and silently submitted himself.

“When the demons chase you, let me exorcise them,” he offered.

“You don’t know what you’re suggesting,” Wes said, softly. “Your sweet ass would be

mine several times a day. Maybe more.”

“Torture,” Micah sighed, his demeanor conveying it would be anything but. He wanted

all of Wes he could get. He needed the man more than it seemed possible.

Wes crawled over him. His fingers manacled Micah’s wrists, keeping his arms prisoner

where they lay. He smiled down at Micah, his eyes squinting as the full force of his smile shown.

“Mine now,” he growled.

Leaning down, he pressed kisses down the center of Micah’s throat, between his

clavicles, to the center of his chest. Micah’s heart thudded beneath Wes’ lips and he squirmed,

but Wes’ fingers tightened, holding him still. Turning slightly, he captured one of Micah’s

nipples, biting and drawing hard until Micah was arching beneath him. Micah’s cries shattered

the silence in the room, arousing him further as Wes sucked and licked.

Wes seemed intent on moving slowly. Nothing Micah did or said budged him in his

pursuit of bringing Micah’s pleasure. Wes pulled Micah’s hands to his sides as he moved lower.

Looking up, Wes smiled again then dropped his head and took Micah’s cock into his mouth.

Micah groaned, arching his hips. Wes’ mouth could drive him mad. He closed his eyes,

letting the full sensation work over him, and goose bumps cascaded up his belly. He shuddered.

Moaned. His fingers clenched. Wes opened his hands and slid them upward. Their fingers twined

together as Wes slowly worked up and down Micah’s shaft.

“Please…” Micah begged. “Please, Wes… I need you in me.”

In response, Wes flicked his tongue over the soft spot beneath Micah’s glans, and another

shudder rushed over Micah. He couldn’t stand much more. His orgasm splintered inside him. He

screamed, arching. His release flooded into Wes while his fingers squeezed hard.

When he calmed, Wes pulled free and reached for supplies. Within minutes, he was

pushing into Micah while Micah cried out for more. Wes gave no quarter, fucking him hard.

Soon, too soon, he too stiffened. He poured into Micah while a surprising barrage of shudders

worked over Micah again.

Overwhelmed, Micah pulled him down and kissed him hard. There were no words

between them, nothing that needed to be said. They were one, a rare pair who’d managed to find

their destined other half. Nothing outside this room could change that.

Chapter Five

Wes looked around, taking in the blinding whiteness surrounding him. White walls, white

furniture, white piano…

They’d shared a breakfast of croissants, coffee and kisses this morning, both unable to

keep his hands of the other. Afterward, Micah had asked Wes if he’d like to see his studio.

Micah rented space in an office building across town. But instead of offices, he made it his

getaway, a place to write music, a place to play his instrument and to just be alone.

As Wes glanced around though, he saw it was more than that. Awards adorned the walls

as well as publicity pictures. Part of the space had been fitted with recording equipment. The

walls were sound enhancing material, specifically used to deaden outside noises.

“Will you play for me?” Wes asked. Though he knew Micah’s profession, he had no idea

what his music sounded like. It was one more thing he wanted to know. He wanted to

know…everything. He had to.

They might have a fight ahead of them, but they were one now. He’d seen it in Micah’s

eyes this morning. He felt it, too.

“Of course,” Micah replied. He sat on the padded bench while Wes leaned on the piano

watching him. Micah’s fingers stroked lightly over the keys without pressing them down enough

to make a sound. Wes felt the caress across the ivory as if Micah’s hands trailed over his skin.

He jumped at the first notes, but Micah’s long fingers mesmerized him as they danced

over the keys. The melody, a mix of modern and classical music, floated around them, soft and

lilting then louder and driving. Wes felt it in his gut. It built and filled him. His lips parted in

surprise. Wide-eyed, he watched Micah’s hands then his body. Lids closed, Micah moved with

the music. His lithe body flowed onto the keys as the notes resonated then ebbed away as the

sound dwindled. Making love to the piano…

His cock went hard in voyeuristic arousal as his watched his man make love to his

instrument. No wonder there were fan sites dedicated to him. Micah was beautiful in motion, his

music secondary to the sight of him performing—of course, that was Wes’ opinion. One

reviewer had called Micah’s music “transcendent perfection”. Wes could see that, but truly, he

was more interested in the man.

His tongue shot across his bottom lip before he drew the moistened flesh between his

teeth, breathing shallowly. What on earth was happening to him? He couldn’t go an hour without

needing to touch or taste Micah again. It seemed crazy to find anyone so instantly addictive, but

Wes couldn’t hold himself back.

Pushing from the piano, he walked behind Micah. He leaned forward. “Don’t stop,” he

whispered as he dropped to his knees. His lips pressed to Micah’s neck while he pulled Micah’s

shirt free from his pants. Micah had borrowed the clothing from Wes, and the garments were

loose on his smaller frame. Lifting the shirt, he kissed and nipped along Micah’s spine.

“Wes,” Micah groaned.

“Keep playing,” Wes replied, the music still stirring him. His hands skimmed around to

Micah’s front. His fingers traced over the man’s flat belly before one hand slipped down and into

Micah’s pants.

The notes faltered as Wes cupped Micah’s cock through his cotton boxers.

“You’re killing me,” Micah moaned.

“No, I’m not.”

Micah’s playing grew choppy as Wes stroked his hand up and down the man’s erection.

He traced the head through the thin, stretchy fabric, wetting the cloth with the pre-cum escaping

the small slit at the crest. Micah’s shaft throbbed in Wes’ palm.

Suddenly, the music stopped and Micah pulled Wes’ hands off him. He turned on the

bench, his legs going to either side of Wes. “I can’t play when you do that.”

“I thought you were a professional,” Wes teased. He slipped his hands back inside and

grasped Micah’s ass, flexing his fingers into the firm flesh.

“Right…” Micah gasped. “A professional, but not a god.”

The bench toppled as Wes stood, lifting Micah and pressing him to the piano keys with a

discordant jumble of notes. Micah wrapped his arms around Wesley’s shoulders and spread his

legs. Wes stepped between them. His fingers clutched Micah’s hips as their cocks ground

together and he dipped his head to suck at the juncture of Micah’s neck and shoulder.

“Hey, Mike—Oh Christ…Sorry…Jesus! Here, Mike? You have to do that here?”

Wes lifted his head and looked over Micah’s shoulder at the guy who’d burst in on them.

Spectacularly geek vogue was all Wes could think to describe the guy who appeared to be a

cross between computer nerd, Wall Street intern and skateboard junkie. Thin-rimmed black

glasses rested between perfectly gelled and styled black hair, but the style was more rock star

than businessman on the rise—so were the light kohl lines around his eyes. He wore a white

button down, a black tie and super-slim legged trousers. Checkerboard skate shoes adorned his

feet. And everything about his manner screamed homosexual if Wes’ gaydar was still working.

But he wasn’t making any assumptions. As of late, his instincts had been way off.

Micah peered over his shoulder. “Hey, Harrison. Sorry. I didn’t figure you’d be in

today.”

“Someone has to run your career, man.”

“It’s Saturday,” Micah replied.

Harrison shrugged. “Hey, I never claimed to have a life.” His eyes narrowed. “I didn’t

think you had one, either—in town, that is.”

Micah smiled and turned to Wes. “This is my manager, Harrison. Harrison, this is

my…boyfriend, Wesley.”

Wes grinned back, warmth filling him.

“Boyfriend…” Harrison said slowly.

“Yeah. Problem with that?” Wes challenged.

“No. Well…yes. I do,” the other man replied. He set the papers he’d been carrying down

on the end of the piano then crossed his arms. His lips pursed, and Wes bit back a smile as he

noticed the man had a similar build to Micah and was just as adorable when he was pissy—not

that he was attracted to the man. He just didn’t inspire any concern.

“Do your parents know?” Harrison continued, turning his glare to Micah who remained

in Wes’ arms without any sign of moving. “No, they couldn’t,” he continued without waiting for

a reply. “Because you’re still breathing. Well, at least, I’ll still be getting a paycheck for a bit.

What’s the plan then?”

Wes looked at Micah. “A bit of a cyclone, isn’t he?”

“You have no idea.”

“For Pete’s sake. I’m right here,” Harrison snapped.

“The plan is that I’ll keep seeing Wesley as long as he wants to see me—”

“A long time, I think,” Wes murmured.

“And as far as media goes, the gossip doesn’t need to be spread. And no comments if

they ask. I’m not enough of a hard hitter that anyone will care who I’m dating. So just keep

doing what you’re doing and if my parents call you’ve seen me in here, alive and well.”

“They’re not going to like that.”

“I’m twenty-three, not twelve. They need to let me grow up and let go of the apron

strings. I’m an adult and they don’t need to keep tabs on me.”

“Or your love life,” Harrison muttered, looking at the papers and shuffling them together.

Micah’s brow furrowed and he stood, slipping out of Wes’ grasp. Wes stepped back to

give him space to move, and Micah stepped over the tipped bench then went to Harrison.

Wes stiffened as Micah placed his hand on his manager’s arm. They looked good

together. Perhaps better than he and Micah did. Wes swallowed back bitterness. He turned away

and went to look out the window. What place did he have to be jealous? And with no reason.

Micah had made it clear who he was with.

“What’s the matter?” he heard Micah asked Harrison.

The other man sighed. “Nothing. I’m just sensitive today. It’s been six months, you

know. Since Chip left me for that tart. I’m just…I’m happy for you. It just hurts to see…well,

that.”

Wes imagined that “that” was accompanied by a gesture at the scene of the love making

on which he’d walked in. He turned just in time to see Micah hug his friend. Wes’ heart lurched,

and fervently he wished he hadn’t chosen that moment. He turned away again as Harrison tucked

down his head and Micah rested his cheek on the man’s hair.

If he could, he’d leave the room, but he didn’t know where to go. It wasn’t really that he

was jealous, despite his initial reaction. He wanted to give them privacy. Harrison seemed to be

hurting. Bad. And Wes could certainly understand. He wasn’t so much of an ass to count his

desires over someone else’s pain. Harrison needed his friend.

Still as the pair murmured to each other, Wes’ tension rose. They needed to be alone.

“Micah,” he said, heading for the door. “I’m gonna head over to the Starbucks down the

street. Take your time.”

He straightened his clothes as he stepped into the elevator, Harrison’s intrusion having

effectively deflated his cock. Just as well, he thought with a small grin. If they kept up as they’d

been, Micah wouldn’t be able to walk for days.

Still smiling, he left the building and headed for the coffee shop where he waited.

And waited.

And waited.

He’d taken a seat near the windows, and now, glanced outside toward Micah’s building.

Nothing. He glanced at his watch. When he’d said to take his time, he hadn’t expected to wait

over an hour. Taking a sip of his now-chilled latte, he tried to be patient.

Or maybe you’re just a gullible sap, he thought. What the hell was happening? Micah

hadn’t been more than a few steps from him since he’d walked through the door last night.

“What’s a guy like you doing in a place like this?”

Startled to hear his friend’s voice, Wes looked up. “Ben. Hey, what’re you doing here?”

“Meeting a girl. Maybe.” He shrugged. “Or maybe not. It’s a blind date thing. Sort of.

We’ll see if she shows. We’ve been talking for weeks, but she’s worried about meeting face-to-

face.”

“And the charming Mr. Ben Marcus can’t convince her? Something must be wrong with

the world.”

“Smartass.” Ben shook his head. “I really like her, but she’s reluctant even though she

likes me. I think she’s been burned before. If she doesn’t show, I’ll just keep trying.” He tilted

his head slightly. “So what are you doing here? This isn’t exactly your usual part of Verona.”

“Micah and I were over at his studio. He had some business to attend to so I came over

here.” And might have been dumped, he admitted to himself. Almost an hour and a half…

“Micah? Wait…Micah Julian?” Ben leaned forward, his eyes wide. “Are you fucking

crazy?” he hissed. “Why would you do that to yourself? You know it won’t work out. Do you

have that much of a self-destructive streak?”

“Yes, Micah Julian. I can’t explain it, Ben.”

“He’s engaged—”

“Not really.”

“You need to get out of this relationship before it goes too far, man. Really, you don’t

need to be hurt right now. You’re just getting back, and he’s a member of the enemy camp right

here at home. Don’t you remember what happened with his family on Thursday? Thursday, for

fuck’s sake! End it. They won’t accept this. And I’ve known your mom and dad long enough to

know they won’t be pleased. Do they know?”

“Interesting. This is the conversation I’ve just been navigating at my studio.”

Relief filled Wes at the sight of Micah standing behind Ben’s chair. Until that moment,

he hadn’t realized just how worried he’d been. Micah slipped into the spot beside him on the

couch and scooted close. He kissed Wes on the cheek then shot a quick glare at Ben. “I’m sorry I

took so long. Once I got Harrison calmed down, he was worried about us—and my family. I had

to convince him I know what I’m doing.”

“Ben’s just worried too, baby,” Wes replied. He wrapped his arm around Micah’s

shoulders. He reached across with his other hand and linked their fingers. He squeezed them

gently, savoring the touch. “Don’t be angry with him. We’ve been friends since we were little.

He doesn’t want me to get hurt.”

“Okay,” Micah muttered.

“Micah…”

Micah sighed. “Okay… It’s nice to meet you, Ben.” He squeezed Wes’ fingers tighter. “I

promise, I’m not going to hurt Wes.”

“Ben’s meeting someone, so we should go now that you’re here. Are you still coming

over tomorrow?” Wes asked Ben.

“Absolutely. Might bring a girl if I get lucky.”

“I hope you do,” Micah said quietly as he and Wes stood. He reached for Ben’s hand.

“I’m glad Wes has a great friend who worries about him. And you have my permission to kick

my ass if I hurt him—but I won’t.”

Ben nodded and they said their goodbyes before Micah and Wes headed outside. To

Wes’ surprise, Micah didn’t let go of his hand.

“I want to be out. I don’t want to hide,” Micah said when Wes lifted their hands slightly

and glanced at him. “That was part of my conversation with Harrison. He was trying to convince

me not to come out.”

“Why? He clearly is.”

“My parents. He’s worried about me.”

Wes sighed. “Everyone’s so worried about us. You’d think two guys never found

something special together.”

“I understand though. They both know the lay of the land with our families. So do you.

Wesley?” Micah said as they reached the car and moved to opposite sides. He looked at Wes

over the roof. “I really am sorry I took so long. When I realized how late it had gotten, I was

worried you wouldn’t be there.”

Guilt niggled at Wes. Yeah, he’d thought maybe Micah wasn’t coming, but honestly, he

could say he hadn’t considered leaving. Not at that point. Did that make him a sap?

He studied Micah as they got into the car. No, it made him a man who didn’t want to lose

someone special. “I would have tried to find you before I just left. I was worried you’d ditched

me, actually,” he laughed.

Micah blanched. “No,” he said, shaking his head. “I wouldn’t just take off or ditch you or

whatever.” He reached across the car and grabbed Wes’ shirtfront to pull him closer. Without

regard to anything around them, he kissed Wes hard, conveying his desperation in the smash of

lips and teeth. Wes opened, letting Micah inside and groaned at the sensation of rightness that

washed through him. Lord, Micah was addictive. Wes wanted him for breakfast, lunch, dinner

and every breath he breathed.

It didn’t matter that everyone predicted this wouldn’t end well, or even that he felt it deep

down inside him. He had to do everything he could to make this work.

Chapter Six

“I wish we could just go away from here,” Micah said as they got closer to Wes’

apartment. He stared out the window at the passing buildings, feeling as if their morning

interlude was weeks past, rather than mere hours.

“Can’t do that, baby. We just have to make our own space right here in good old Verona,

Michigan.”

“I know,” Micah conceded. “Running away from a problem never helps. Trust me, I

know. I’ve been running from my family for five years. Hasn’t worked too well for me. I still

have to come home.”

Neither of them mentioned that Micah could have moved far away. He’d considered it

many times, but it had always proved to be a hassle since he wasn’t ever home long enough to

settle. It was just easier to leave his things at his parents’ home and deal with their snide behavior

when it came to homosexuality and the neighbors across the street. But they weren’t all bad.

Mostly, they were great people—well, his mom and dad anyway—who supported the arts and

charities. Most people, except the Romeros and the Romeros’ friends, would call the

Julians…nice.

But Micah knew that would all turn on him when the truth about him came out. When Tai

had beat up another boy in high school because the kid was gay, Micah’s dad had practically

commended Tai for “giving that queer boy a lesson”. That was when Micah had started spending

hours at the piano. He’d needed to be away from his dad and Tai. The idea of them finding out

that he liked boys had terrified him. Hiding his nature had become a habit—and easier.

“Does Harrison travel with you?” Wes asked. “Your parents must love that.”

“Yeah. They’re, um, judgmental. I keep them apart. And Harrison does travel with me

sometimes. It’s nice to have him along. He’s a good friend—Oh…” Micah’s gaze turned to Wes.

Did he mean… “We’ve, uh, never… It’s not like that.”

Wes laughed. “Calm down. That’s not what I was asking—though it’s nice to know.”

“He didn’t travel as much when he was still with Chip. Chip…what an ass, but it does

make me feel kinda guilty about having Harrison on trips when they were together. It’s not as if I

was alone. The recording company requires me to have a small entourage.”

“No, don’t feel guilty. If he was going to cheat, he was going to cheat. I’ve seen it a lot

during deployment. The “Dear John” letters… To see that pain and anger… Made me glad I

didn’t have someone back home.”

Micah drew his finger along the inside of Wes’ thumb. Wes had such strong hands. “I

would have waited for you. I would have been proud of you, too. My own Marine.”

“Ooh Rah,” Wes quipped, but the call made goose bumps rise along Micah’s body.

Knowing Wes’ military background just made him hotter for the man, whether Wes was still in

the service or not.

“Wes…” Micah murmured, overwhelmed by the wave of need hitting him. It was as if he

really had been waiting all this time for his Marine to come home, and now, he was finally here.

The feelings, all the strange sensations of knowing he’s found his one, they made sense. He’d

been a nomad his whole life, adrift in his family, alone on tour. But finding Wes… He’d found

home.

“What is it, baby?” Wes asked, slowing the car as he glanced over at him.

“I…” His realization made him speechless… And it scared him. Wes would think he was

crazy. His teeth sank into his lower lip. He’d hold this to himself for now.

Waiting for Wes, knowing he’d been running from his own truth, knowing his family

would never accept him—either of them… It all piled upon itself in the silence of the car.

He shook his head. “I need to go home. Just for a bit. I’ll come back tonight. Can you

drop me there?”

Wes lifted an eyebrow as he glanced over, stunned. “Kinda a dicey prospect don’t you

think?”

“Scared, Marine?”

“Pfft,” Wes replied on a laugh. “Not.”

“No one will even notice me until I get in the door. Trust me. You’ll be long gone before

they even realize I’m back.” At least, he hoped so, but as he’d told himself so many times in the

past days…he was done hiding.

Wes disagreed with him, and told him so, but he still dropped Micah off. “I want to kiss

you,” Micah said. “But that’ll be pushing things a little too far. I’ll be to your place in a few

hours. I expect double the groping.”

“Bet on it,” Wes promised, but he couldn’t hide the concern in his eyes as Micah left the

car. His face somber, Micah gave him a small wave then headed for the house.

Trepidation boiled in his middle as he strolled up the walk. The white, lace curtain

flickered, and he knew someone had been peeking outside—so much for his best laid plans. He

took a deep breath and didn’t let his steps falter. He was a man, not a recalcitrant teenager

coming home nearly twenty-four hours after he’d left. And what a twenty-four hours it had been.

He smiled despite knowing the trial awaiting him beyond his parents’ green-painted door.

His mother met him just inside the doorway, her arms crossed as she glared at him.

“The Romero boy? Really, Micah. I thought you knew better than to be seen with riffraff

like him.”

Riffraff? “Really, mom? He’s a nice guy.”

“Oh really? I hear he’s been in prison.”

“Prison? Mom! He’s a Marine. He’s been in Iraq!”

“Hmph.”

Micah shook his head, stepping around her. “I just need to get a few things. I’m not

staying.”

“Where are you going?”

He stopped and leveled a look at her then raised his eyebrow, much the same way Wes

had done in the car. His lips pressed together as he held back a smile. Damn, that man made him

happy.

“You have got to be kidding me. You wait until your father gets here.”

“Please, mom…” He sighed. “I’m not a kid, and you two need to stop treating me like

one. I’m an adult, and it’s time everyone realizes it. I’m not going to ‘wait until my father’ gets

home. I’m getting things from my room and I’m going.”

“To where? You’re moving in with him. Micah! Think! I don’t know what he’s dragged

you into or what he’s convinced you to do—”

“He hasn’t convinced me to do anything,” Micah snapped. This was it. This was the big,

ugly moment he’d feared for years, and now that it was here, it didn’t seem so awful. Even

without saying the words, catharsis began to lighten the weight of guilt inside him. “I’m gay,

mom,” he said simply. “This is who I am. Wesley Romero has nothing to do with it.” He

grinned. “Though…I think I’m going to fall in love with him.”

Maisie’s face went white and she blindly reached out her hand, feeling for the wall. Her

fingers pressed to her throat. “Micah…please…” she rasped. “Don’t say that.”

Micah sighed, only marginally worried. His mom was a drama queen. He’d seen this

performance before. Still, he helped her to the couch and got her a glass of water.

“I’m going to get my things,” he announced.

“No…” she begged. “Sit down and talk to me about this.”

He shook his head. “No. I can’t. You want to change my mind and it’s not going to

happen.” He knew her well enough to predict her, and the consternation on her face showed he’d

been exactly right. “This isn’t new. I’ve known for a long time—”

“But he made—”

“No, he didn’t. I know you don’t want to believe it, but I’m gay. Wes isn’t the first man,

either, so don’t blame him.”

“Who molested you?” she demanded.

“Oh for fuck’s sake!” he exploded. “No one did! I’m just this way. Accept it or not. I

don’t care.”

Frustrated, he stormed down the hall to his room. Breathing deeply as he stood in the dim

interior and leaned against the door, he tried to ignore the rock in the pit of his stomach. That

was that. He was out. His mom was probably on the phone this minute spewing everything to his

father. Edward wouldn’t be pleased to have his golf game interrupted and by what he’d definitely

term as “distasteful” news.

Pushing from the door, Micah headed for his closet and pulled out a large, wheeled duffle

bag. He tossed it on the bed. What did he want to take? Admittedly, he didn’t have much here,

just clothes and a few personal mementoes. He put the latter in his bag first. Most of the things

that were really important to him were at his studio. Subconsciously, he’d been storing them

there when he’d come home from tours, rather than bringing them here. Had he known it would

come to this?

His bedroom door whooshed open, the knob slamming into plaster.

“So you were fucking that Romero fag?” Tai demanded, his tone harsh as he spat the

words.” I always knew you were a cocksucker, but I thought you’d choose a bit higher on the

food chain.”

Micah glared up to see his brother, refusing to engage him. Looking away, he grabbed a

pile of shirts from his drawer and tossed them in the bag. “Leave me alone, Tai.”

Instead, his brother came into the room and closed the door behind him. “Where are you

going? To live with Paris?”

That was the plan. While he planned plenty of sleepovers with Wes, he had an open

invitation to have Paris’ second bedroom. “What’s it to you?”

“What’s it to me?” Tai hissed. “You’re disgusting!”

“Whatever.”

Tai wasn’t worth the energy. He turned back to the dresser.

“You won’t be saying that for long,” Tai ground out. Shocked, Micah stared at him. His

blood running cold as his brother stepped close. He grabbed the collar of Micah’s T-shirt.

“What do you do when you’re gone, dear brother? Spend your nights fucking men?

Getting it up the ass?”

Micah shoved him, breaking from his grip, then circled to the other side of his bed. “Get

away from me! Get out of my room.”

“You break it off, Mikey,” Tai demanded, using the nickname Micah hated as he

followed. His hand shot out and he grabbed Micah’s neck shoving him against the wall and

pressing against his windpipe. “You break it off or I’ll make you sorry you ever looked at a man.

No brother of mine is gonna be a fucking fag!”

“Get off me!” Micah rasped, clawing at his brother’s arm.

“They like you because you’re such a pansy-ass swisher? What else do you let them do to

you?” Tai shoved harder then suddenly released Micah as Micah kicked out at him, doing

whatever he could to get free.

Micah gasped for breath, his peripheral vision dimmed from his lack of oxygen. Tai

grabbed him again. He slammed Micah’s head into the wall. Then again. And again. He shoved

Micah hard, and Micah staggered, knocking into a trophy on his side table. It jabbed into his

cheek before his weight forced it to the side and he fell to the floor.

Tai towered over him. “You don’t think this will ruin your career? None of us will help

you. Dad would rather destroy you than have a gay son. All you’ll have is that punk Romero.

You’ll be dead to us.”

He was already dead to them. The house wasn’t so soundproofed that their mother didn’t

hear Tai kicking the shit out of him.

“Get out of my room,” Micah slurred. Spots swirled before his eyes, but he wasn’t sure if

it was the situation or his brother’s abuse. Both sickened him.

“End it, Mikey. I mean it. End it or you’ll be sorry.” Tai stalked from the room and

slammed the door behind him. A few minutes later, he heard the scream of Tai’s car speeding

away.

Nauseated, Micah pulled himself up on the bed. Pain flooded over him, the worst he’d

ever felt. But if he could breathe, he’d be okay.

A headache throbbed behind his eyes, it beat in time with the larger ache on the back of

his head. He had to get out of here. He had no doubt his father would thrash him to within inches

of death. What had he been thinking to believe he’d be safe enough to get his clothing?

He couldn’t stay here. He was a grown man; it was time to walk away before he really

got hurt.

He’d outgrown this home and its dysfunctions.

Forcing himself back to his feet, he haphazardly tossed the rest of his clothes into the

duffle and another suitcase he used for his frequent travels. He put toiletries and two changes of

clothes in a third smaller bag.

Peering out the door, he saw the coast was clear. Tai was gone, his mother was God knew

where and his father wasn’t home yet—that would change soon unless he missed his guess.

Feeling like a thief in the night, despite only having his own belongings, he stacked the

two larger bags and slung the remaining one over his shoulder. Pulling his life behind him, he

headed for the garage and the super-pretentious car he never drove.

Chapter Seven

“What did you do?”

“Hi, mom,” Wes replied, smiling into his cell phone as he grabbed a beer from the fridge.

“I’m fine. You?”

“Don’t get smart with me Wesley Allen Romero.”

That stopped him in his tracks. He straightened and set his beer on the counter.

“Um…I…have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“The Julian boy, Wesley.”

Oh…so this was when the shit would hit the fan.

“His parents were here. Pounding on our door and screaming. I thought your father and

Edward would come to blows. They say you’ve taken up with their son. That you’ve corrupted

him! Tell me that’s not true. A Julian, Wes? What are you thinking?” she demanded without

waiting for an answer. Probably good since Wes was sorting through her tirade.

Holy shit.

His tongue shot over his bottom lip then he blew out a breath. “Micah and I are seeing

each other,” he admitted. “But corrupted? He’s twenty-three not sixteen.”

“A Julian, Wes,” she repeated.

“Yeah, mom, I know. And I think you’ll like him if you give him a chance. He’s not like

them.”

“I’m sure he’s not if you like him, honey. But there’s so much bad blood. They were

screaming about him moving in with you.”

Wes’ eyes widened. Moving in? “I’m sure they’re…mistaken.”

The last word came slowly as the idea settled in. Micah in his bed every night? He could

really like that.

“Well, he took all his things and drove off. They say you came in between him and his

fiancée. Wesley! I can accept many things, you know that, but cheating—”

“He’s not engaged. Nothing untoward is going on.” Though he could think of a few

untoward things he’d like to do. In his bed. With Micah under him. Naked.

Jesus! He couldn’t get a hard-on while he talked to his mom.

A knock on the door took his attention from his crotch and to the possibility that Micah

had gotten here. He hurried to the door while his mother chattered on. Swinging it open, he saw

the man he’d been fanaticizing about, but all thought of sex diminished as he saw Micah’s

condition.

“I’ve gotta go, mom,” he said.

“Bring him to dinner soon,” she instructed. “I want to meet this boy.”

“Okay, mom. Promise,” Wes replied, stunned by his lover’s face. He disconnected and

slowly, pushed the phone into his pocket. “What happened?” he asked, reaching for Micah and

pulling him inside. He pushed the small bag from Micah’s shoulder, leaving it in the hallway,

then led him to the couch. Sitting, he pulled Micah into his lap.

Despite all Micah’s protests about not being small, he curled readily into Wes, his fist

clenching in the front of Wes’ shirt as he pushed his abused face into Wes’ neck.

“I told them,” he mumbled. “I told them about being gay.”

“And they did this?”

Micah shook his head. “Just Tai. He attacked me in my room when I was packing to go to

Paris’. But no one stopped him.” He sniffed. “I thought I’d feel better to be out.”

“You probably would if Tai hadn’t beat the shit out of you.” He lifted Micah’s face,

cupping his chin and examining the damage. If he ever got his hands on Tai, the man would be

dead.

Micah’s shimmery brown eyes caught his gaze. “Don’t,” he breathed, his voice a rasp,

and Wes saw the dark bruises on his neck. “I can see what you’re thinking. Don’t contemplate it.

I know you can protect yourself, but I don’t want you in trouble with the police.”

“He can’t get away with this.”

“We’ll stay away from him. It’s okay Wes. I’ll be all right.”

Wes’ jaw set and his lips pressed together. It was not all right, he seethed as he pushed

Micah’s face back to his shoulder. Closing his eyes, he rubbed his hand up and down his lover’s

back.

Micah was out of there, and if Wes had his way, Micah would never go back.

“You said you were packing to go to Paris’?”

“Mmhmm. I realized today that I couldn’t stay there. Paris has a room she’s offered me,

so I’m going to take her up on it—and I won’t have to check in and out with her, either. You

know…if I want to stay over at my boyfriend’s.”

“What if your boyfriend suggests that you just stay here?”

Micah sat up and craned back his head a bit to look at him.

Wes smiled. “I mean it. I know it’s quick, but we’d both be lying if we don’t admit that’s

the way with this relationship. I’m not going to try to understand it. I just want you here.”

Light burst into Micah’s eyes. “You’re sure you want me here?”

“Baby, I’m so sure.”

Micah bit one side of his bottom lip and smiled. “Okay, well…” He shrugged. “Let’s try

it out.”

* * * *

“And I had to cut her off at the door. In full labor! And she decided she was done. She

was going home,” Paris laughed as she buttered a croissant. Wesley and Micah sat at the table

across from her. Micah rested his chin in his hand and smiled as he listened to his friend. He

couldn’t be more content. After Micah had come back here yesterday, Wes had brought his bags

in from the car and Micah had spent the rest of the night in his arms. A flood of warmth fed his

happiness as he remembered Wes’ gentle caresses and how he’d tenderly kissed all the bruises

peppering Micah’s body.

He sipped his coffee while Wesley’s long fingers played with his beneath the table.

Frankly, the naughty, erotic stroking was turning Micah on, but he tried to hide it as he listened

to Paris.

“Thankfully, I got her back in bed and ready before it was time to push. Crazy mothers…

She’d managed to pull out her IVs, take off the fetal monitor and get on her coat—all while I was

grabbing her ice chips and her husband was in the bathroom.” She yawned. “Exhausting night.

Thanks for inviting me to breakfast, though, Wesley. It’s nice to visit with you. Other than that

night at the party, I haven’t seen you since high school.”

“He’s been in Iraq,” Micah told her, somehow proud of Wesley—and actually feeling

rather proud of himself. Last night, he’d managed to keep Wesley in bed with him the whole

time with no escapes to the exercise room to run from demons.

“Not the whole time,” Wesley laughed. “I went to college, too. I’m an architect for Hardy

and Lowe. They’ve been really cool about me getting called up to duty. And I won’t lie, though.

I’m really glad I’m out now.”

“I’ll bet. So, um…what’s going on here, guys?” Paris asked, her tone teasing. “I can’t

help but noticing my fiancé is wearing jammie pants and a T-shirt at your breakfast table,

Wesley.”

“Stop it!” Micah exclaimed, his face reddening.

Paris smirked. “Your parents… So do they know you’re here?”

“What do you think?” He shrugged. “I moved out. Right about the time Tai did this,” he

said, indicating his face.

“And here I was thinking you ran into a wall. That asshole. He’s always been violent with

you. Always looking for an excuse.”

“Well, this time it’s about me being gay.”

“So they know…” Paris gave an exaggerated sigh. “Well, there goes my fiancé excuse.

Damn it.”

“Sorry,” he said, though in truth, he wasn’t at all. He didn’t like lying, and he was glad to

be with Wes.

“It’s good that Micah won’t be at the mercy of his parents,” Wesley added. “Though,

with four successful albums out and multiple engagements, he financially solvent enough to be

free of them.”

“How do you know…” Micah asked.

“My internet search was thorough.” He kissed Micah’s temple. “I’m really proud of you.”

Micah smiled at him until Paris made a gagging sound. “You two are just so…sweet!”

“Is she always like this?” Wesley asked.

“Always,” Micah confirmed as a knock sounded on the door. Wesley got up to answer it,

leaving Micah and Paris alone in the sunny breakfast nook of the kitchen.

She leaned forward. “I like him,” she confided.

“Me, too.” Micah chuckled, glad for his best friend’s seal of approval. He glanced toward

the entryway. “Do you know anything about PTSD?” he asked quietly.

“Not a lot. If your guy has it though, he should be seeing a psychologist to help him

through it.”

Micah nodded, wondering if Wesley had been seeing someone and how to even ask. He

supposed it wasn’t really his business quite yet, even if they were going to live together. From

the look and feel of things, though, he and Wesley would be to that point soon.

He heard voices, and a moment later, Wesley returned accompanied by Ben. “Micah, you

remember Ben. Paris, this is my friend, Ben Marcus. He’s one of Verona’s finest from the fire

station over on Ashland.”

Paris paused with a piece of croissant partway to her mouth, her eyes deer in the

headlights wide. She swallowed hard, setting the uneaten bit of pastry back on her plate.

“Lieutenant Marcus,” Paris murmured. “I know you. You delivered that baby last month

after you rescued the mother for a fire.”

Ben grinned. His eyes took on a predatory look, making him look a bit like the Big Bad

Wolf ready to eat Red Riding Hood. “Small world,” he replied, taking the seat beside her. His

eyes sparked as he looked her up and down, a small smile on his lips. “We meet at last… So tell

me. Do you have an aversion to Starbucks or is it me?”

“Fuck,” Paris whispered at the same time Wes laughed and Micah said, “Ohhh!”

So his best friend was the woman Ben had been meeting yesterday.

“I had to work an extra shift yesterday,” she defended, pink tingeing her cheeks. Micah

noticed her hands shaking. Still, she was leaning the tiniest bit toward the fireman as she held his

gaze. Her lips parted then she bit the inside of her bottom lip.

Ben slipped his hand over hers. “You saved my life that night, talking me through it. That

was horrifying.” He shuddered. “If I didn’t like women so much, it could have put me off them

for life!”

“Poor baby,” Wes laughed, returning to his chair beside Micah, now that Ben had settled.

“It’s not that bad.”

“And you’ve delivered a baby?” Ben asked, poking at him.

“Yes, as a matter of fact. It’s a lot harder in a fire-fight when the mother doesn’t speak

English, too. Talk about taking a wrong turn!”

“You delivered a baby?” Micah repeated.

“Yeah, me and my partner. Thankfully, he has a wife and was there for a couple of his

kids being born. So he knew what to do—” Wes’ face suddenly went white, and just like that,

Micah watched horror dawn in the man’s eyes. Micah reached for his hand, wanting to give him

an anchor, wanting him to know he was here and safe now.

Wes clenched it tightly. “Had a wife,” he said quietly. “He was killed over there. Excuse

me.” His chair screeched across the wood floor, and he stood.

Unwilling to let Wes face this alone, Micah jumped to his feet and followed as Wes left

the room, leaving their two friends staring after them. He heard Ben say something and Paris

reply, “PTSD.”

But he didn’t pause to comment or listen to whatever they said. Getting to Wes was more

important. He caught the bedroom door just before it shut behind Wes. Nice try, Marine.

He slipped inside and almost ran into Wes who stood barely two steps inside the door

with an arm around his middle and his other hand pressed to his face.

“Wes?” he said quietly.

“It doesn’t make sense,” Wes whispered. “He had everything. A wife, kids… He loved

them so much. And he was killed. I had nothing but a job I hadn’t had a chance to even settle

into and I lived. Why? Why him and not me? He had everything to live for.”

Micah moved behind him. He wrapped his arms around Wesley’s shaking body and

rested his cheek between the man’s shoulders, wanting to absorb his pain. “You had everything

to discover. A whole world ahead of you. No one can say why one person dies and another

doesn’t. You’ll drive yourself mad trying to figure it out.”

“I’m already crazy. It drives me from sleep. I push my body past its limits just hoping I’ll

pass out from exhaustion. And then…then I think I’m doing okay, when I’m getting by, then it

hits me again.” He let out a short breath. “But at least I’m alive, right?”

Micah didn’t know what to say, so he just held Wes until the shaking stopped and they

were both exhausted from the emotions. He wanted to tell Wes that he was so thankful he’d

lived, that Wes was saving him, Micah, that Wes was alive so that they could find this world

together. But that seemed selfish, even if it was what he felt deep inside him.

“We should go back out,” Wesley finally said.

Micah didn’t let him go, but instead, tightened his arms. Wes wasn’t ready yet.

“Stay here. Climb in bed, and I’ll go check on them. You should try to get some rest. I

know you stayed with me last night, but I bet you didn’t sleep all of it.”

Wes didn’t answer, silently confirming.

“Get in bed,” Micah urged. Leaving him there, he left the room, but stopped short, wide-

eyed. Paris and Ben had moved to the couch. She straddled his legs while they kissed, each of

them with their hands buried in the other’s hair. Apparently, he and Wesley weren’t the only

ones experiencing instant attraction. Happiness bloomed inside him as he paused. It was good to

see two more people finding what he and Wes had. Paris had been so alone for so long, and last

night, Wes had mentioned how taken Ben was with his mystery woman.

As he backed into the bedroom and quietly closed the door, he resolved to quiz his

“fiancée” later about what was going on with the fireman.

“That was quick.” Wes sat on the bed, leaned against the headboard.

“They’re kinda busy. I don’t think they’ll miss us,” Micah laughed.

Wesley’s brows furrowed then he smiled, and to Micah, it was as if dawn had broken

through a stormy night. He knew Wes’ happiness was temporary, but it was a step in the right

direction.

“You’re kidding,” Wesley murmured. “She’s really the one he met on the phone. He

really likes her.”

“Good, because I’ll kick his ass if he hurts her. Don’t be fooled by the pianist persona.”

“You’re adorable.”

Micah growled. “I’ll kick your ass, too.”

Wes grabbed his hand and pulled him onto the bed. Micah settled between Wesley’s

thighs, chest to chest, cock to cock. The thin pajama bottoms did little to disguise his need. There

was nothing they could do about it right now, though.

Wesley traced Micah’s lower lip with his thumb, and Micah flicked out his tongue to

taste the skin. He wanted to discover all of Wesley with his mouth, but now, he reminded himself

again, wasn’t the time.

“I want you, but we can’t,” Micah muttered.

“Mmm…” Wesley hummed noncommittally and turned him onto his back, rising over

him. He kissed his way down to Micah’s waistband where Micah’s erection tented the soft cloth.

“But what about this?”

“I’ll suffer.”

Wesley shook his head and pulled down the elastic, smiling when Micah’s erection

popped free. Immediately, he grasped the shaft. The tip of his tongue circled the glans then

prodded the small slit on the head while Micah pressed his lips together to hold in a cry.

Suddenly, quickly, Wesley’s mouth sank down Micah’s cock to the base, and Micah had to press

his hand to his mouth to muffle his moan.

Fuck… This man’s mouth… He panted as the damp heat rode up and down his length,

driving him mad. The fingernails of his free hand bit into Wesley’s shoulder, and he felt rather

than heard Wesley’s chuckle. The vibration worked deep inside him, and his eyes rolled back.

His balls tightened as tension knotted, and his end loomed ahead of him. His hips jerked, his

breathing becoming desperate.

Wes cupped his balls, gently pulling, twisting, and the extra stimulation was more than

Micah could take.

“Oh shit…” he moaned, the sound so low it raked painfully across his throat as he poured

his essence into Wesley. The man sucked and licked until Micah collapsed limply into the

blankets.

“Remember that while were stuck watching the ballgame later,” Wesley murmured when

he finally pulled his mouth away.

Blindly, Micah put his hand on Wesley’s head as it rested on his belly. “Leaving bed will

suck.”

Turning slightly, Wesley kissed the inside of Micah’s wrist. “Such sweet sorrow when a

Julian is my sun.”

Micah swatted the top of Wesley’s head. “Twisted, Romero. Really twisted.”

“You know you like it.” He pulled Micah close, and Micah curled into him, wishing they

could do more but knowing they couldn’t with their friends in the living room. Holding Wesley

would have to be good enough.

Chapter Eight

As it turned out, they spent the day with Paris and Ben, the pair becoming more

connected as every hour passed. Micah smiled as he watched them walk down the apartment

building’s interior hallway to the stairs that led to the first. He had no doubt Paris would be

seeing Ben again soon—perhaps even fifteen minutes from now when she got to her place.

“Not upset to see your fiancée run off with another man?” Wesley asked, coming up

behind Micah and wrapping his arms around his waist as if it were the most natural action ever.

Truly, it seemed as if they’d been together forever.

“Nope. Glad to see her finally go. Now I can have the one I really want.” He turned in

Wes’ arms and shuffled them back into the apartment, kicking shut the door. “We have an

appointment in the bedroom,” he said, though it was only six in the evening.

“We do?”

“Oh yes, we do, and you know it.” Micah grabbed his hand and tugged him that way.

Wes resisted, tugging harder and reeling him back to his chest. “But what if I want you

out here? What if…I was considering dinner and a club then bed. Even though you’re pretty

banged up, I was thinking that maybe you might want to try out your newfound freedom—”

“I don’t want anyone but you—”

“Oh I’m not letting you go that easily,” Wes promised. “I meant your freedom to be who

you are. To be out. But we’ll make it a fairly early night. When I get you back here, I plan to

have my way with you, knowing that any man out there could have had you but that you chose

me.”

Micah’s cock stirred. He didn’t want to ruin Wes’ plans, but truly the best part of the idea

was that last bit that featured the big king-sized bed in the next room. Still he wanted to spend

time with Wes in public. He wanted to spend time with him outside of bed, where they could let

their brains rather than their cocks communicate.

“Do you have some place in mind?” he asked.

Wes grinned, and Micah suspected he wouldn’t get anything out of him.

“At least tell me what to wear.” He’d changed into jeans and a sweater earlier.

“You’re good. Let’s go.”

“What’s the rush?”

Wes pulled him tight to his chest. “The rush is, if we don’t get out of here now, I’m going

to fuck you until neither of us can possibly leave the bed until next week.”

Appealing.

“Stop thinking that,” Wes chastised him. “I can tell what you’re thinking from that look.

Not happening. Not when I feel this raw.”

Slowly, he released Micah, and they headed for the door with Micah deep in thought.

Raw? He’d sensed that Wes hadn’t fully come out of the memories that had gripped him.

Apparently, he’d been correct.

“Hey,” Wes said, squeezing his fingers.

“Yeah?”

“Stop it.”

“Okay.”

Wes growled low in his throat. “Micah, we’re about to have our first fight.”

“What?” Micah asked, startled. What had he done?

“Stop worrying so much. My psyche’s not so fragile that I can’t take resistance. You

don’t have to coddle me.”

Micah stared at him, unsure how things had gone awry, but really wanting Wes to just

fucking kiss him. “I’m not—okay, fine. Whatever. How’s this? I don’t really want to go out,

other than to run to the store for some real junk food that’s not beer. Really? Would chips kill

you?”

“Probably.”

Laughing they headed for the car. A light, cold rain had started but it didn’t bother them

as they walked together, joking and shoving one another. Wes’ car was parked beneath a

streetlight and he opened the door for Micah, bowing deep. “Your chariot, sir.”

“Thank you, sir,” Micah replied. “Is this a full-service ride?”

“Definitely.”

Wes rounded the car and slipped into the driver’s seat. Unable to help himself, Micah

leaned over and brushed the rain from Wes’ dark hair. He kissed Wes’ chin then his lips.

“How full-service is this trip?”

“The ride of your life,” Wes promised. He pushed his fingers into Micah’s hair, angling

him for a deeper kiss. Light flashed in Micah’s eyes, he blinked then stared as it got brighter.

Horrified, he scrambled back, pulling Wes.

A car! Barreling their way. He screamed, grappling for the door release. The impact

threw them both into the passenger door. Wes’ head hit with a sickening thump. He crumpled

over Micah as Micah tried to regain his equilibrium. Another crunch slammed him into the car

door once more. He reached out, but woozy, he forgot what he was searching for.

Glass shattered behind him as the assault continued, and Wes’ car was plowed into the

thick telephone pole on the curb. Pain filled every part of him as the car closed around him,

crumpling with each impact.

Wes didn’t move. He didn’t even seem to breathe, but his blood… It was everywhere.

“No!” Micah cried. “No! Wes!”

He looked up as the lights faded, leaving him alone in the metal prison. He held his lover,

waiting for death to claim him too. There was so much pain…too much blood…everything was

so dark…

But through the gloomy haze closing in on him, it wasn’t the friendly visage of death that

greeted him. Tai stood outside the wreck, hatred on his face. And as Micah watched helplessly,

Tai lifted a gun and fired.

* * * *

There was so much white. What was he doing in Micah’s studio?

Confused, Wes blinked sleep from his eyes and tried to focus. What happened? How did

he get…here…? He looked around as a rhythmic beeping drew his attention.

Not Micah’s studio.

He followed a thin clear plastic line from the machine to his arm where a needle pierced

his skin. Slowly, recollection widened his eyes.

“Micah,” he gasped.

Sick terror filled him as he remembered Micah’s screams. The lights. He and Micah had

tried to get out of the car then he’d flown forward. Then blackness.

But what had happened to Micah?

Frantically, he glanced around as if expecting to find his lover in the other bed. His was

the only bed in the small, dim room.

God, where was Micah?

His breathing accelerated as he tried to sit up and get a better look around him. He had to

get his bearings and get out of here so he could find Micah. To his surprise, he discovered Ben

slouched in a chair near the top of the bed, his head slumped forward in sleep. Wes reached

toward him, only to discover the arm without the IV was in a cast. His body hurt everywhere, so

it didn’t surprise him much. Obviously, the drip wasn’t for pain medication. Thank God, because

he needed to be clear-headed enough to find Micah—or find out what had happened to him.

A lead weight settled on his chest. Micah was so much smaller than him. And he’d flown

into him, driving him into the metal door frame. No. No, no, no!

“Ben,” he rasped trying to get the man’s attention. “Ben!”

His friend didn’t move.

“Marcus! Lieutenant Marcus!” he grated, his voice so much like dry sand.

“Mmmph,” Ben mumbled. He shuddered, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. How could

he possibly sleep so soundly in that god-awful chair? He looked exhausted though. He wore his

uniform, covered in grime and what looked suspiciously like blood. How long had he been here?

Had he rescued Wes and Micah—if Micah had survived. The pit in Wes’ stomach said Micah

hadn’t. There’s been too much power behind that impact. He’d hit Micah too hard. He’d been in

wrecks like that one over in Iraq. He remembered the casualties.

He didn’t have to wake Ben to know. Sinking back onto the bed, he stared at the white-

tiled ceiling and let pain take him. Why did he always live?

For the first time, he wondered who’d hit them. Because of how he’d been parked and the

angle at which they’d been hit, he had no doubt the “accident” had been intentional. Someone

had deliberately attacked them.

His jaw tightened though it made his whole head hurt. There were only three people he

knew of who would have it out for them enough to attempt murder—and only two with the balls

to actually do it.

Damn it! He needed Ben to wake up.

Looking around he spotted one of the pink kidney-shaped trays that seemed to come with

every hospital room. He grabbed it with his un-casted hand, then after a moment of maneuvering

lobbed it at Ben. The IV hampered him, but the missile found its mark—the middle of Ben’s

chest.

“What!” Ben exclaimed, jumping up. He blinked at Wes and Wes would have been

amused if not for the grave situation. “You’re awake! Thank God—Hey…did you throw that at

me?”

“Who did this?” Wes asked instead of answering.

“I think you did,” Ben replied, rubbing his chest.

“The wreck,” Wes growled.

“Don’t know, man. We’re hoping a witness saw something or that one of you—”

“One of us? Micah’s not dead?” Joy flooded him—until he saw the solemn look on his

friend’s face.

Ben shook his head. “It’s bad, man. He got tossed around so…bad. But as if that wasn’t

good enough, the asshole shot him.”

Cold panic froze Wes’ blood. His vision whitened as he tried to breath. Shot him?

Someone had shot Micah. His anger flared at the very thought of anyone touching his Micah. It

had to be someone in that fucking house of hate.

“I’ve gotta see him.” He sat up, pushing ineffectively at the rails of the hospital bed.

“Settle down, Superman.” Ben pushed him back to the mattress with hardly any effort.

What kind of drugs had they given him? They sucked! “No one’s allowed in. Not even you. Only

his parents and his brother are permitted.”

“No!” Wes protested. “One of them did this. You saw the bruises on Micah when you

came to the apartment. His brother did that.”

Ben stared at Wes. His face hardened. “Stay here.”

As if I can do anything else, Wes seethed as he watched his friend sprint into the hallway.

He yawned, his eyes growing heavy though he struggled to keep awake. Sleep was the last thing

he wanted.

“No…Micah…” he whispered.

* * * *

The next time Wes woke, he felt better and not as groggy. Bright sunlight flooded the

room, burning his eyes. This time it was Paris beside his bed, reading a People magazine.

“You should be with Micah,” he whispered.

“You’re pushy for an accident victim. Thankfully. Because of you, Ben alerted the cops.

They picked up Tai, and the ass is pretty damn proud of what he did.” Her jaw clenched as she

appeared to grind her teeth. “He tried to kill his own brother. I don’t understand.”

“I need to see Micah. Please,” Wes begged. He was beginning to believe everyone was

lying to him about Micah being alive. Anger and worry whirled inside him. He pulled at the tape

holding his IV to his arm. He’d find Micah on his own.

“Hey! Stop!” Paris cried. “Don’t do that. For Pete’s sake, you’re as bad as those moms

who try to escape in the middle of childbirth!”

“Tell me where he is,” Wes yelled. “Stop lying to me!”

“I’m not lying,” she insisted as another nurse hurried in. She pressed a syringe to the IV

port.

“Don’t drug me,” Wes begged, but it was already too late. His head swam as he tried to

focus on Paris. Why was everyone lying to him?

“He’s on the eighth floor,” she murmured, running a soothing hand over his. “I’ll take

you up there as soon as the doctor says you can move.”

Wes didn’t believe it, but she was still there when he awoke again.

“He’s awake,” she told him. “Want to go up? I have some friends up there who’re

familiar with the situation and willing to bend a few rules. And he wants you.”

“You have to ask? Help me out of bed.” He pushed upright and realized the IV was gone.

“Pushy,” Paris clucked. Still, she helped him into a waiting wheelchair with only one

comment about his ass.

“Not very professional,” he shot back.

“I’m off-duty. Sue me. Do you want to see Micah or not? Be good.”

Wes pressed his lips together. He’d behave while he was in medical prison and deal with

Paris later. Nothing would stop him from seeing Micah.

“Your parents were here,” she said, apparently digging up bedside manner from some

way back training she’d forgotten. “I thought you’d want to know. They’re not being asses like

some people’s parents who I won’t mention.”

Okay, so Paris couldn’t find bedside manner in an empty room, he decided, but it warmed

him to know his parents cared.

“Your mom and dad peeked in on Micah, too. I helped them with that.”

And his estimation of Paris went way, way up. Ben had made a good choice in her.

She fell silent, and tension roiled in his gut as she wheeled him into the elevator. It rose,

eventually letting them off on the eighth floor, and Paris rolled him down a tiled hallway.

Administration had tried to make the passage homey with splashes of warm color, silk plants and

large oil paintings, but the stark industrial white still screamed at him. Hospital.

And Micah was lying in one of these beds, barely conscious and hurt who knew how

badly. No one had really told him that. All he knew was that Micah had been thrown

around…that he’d been shot. Wes took deep breaths, trying to keep calm. This was so far out of

his realm of experience. He’d lost friends, but not loved ones.

You’re not losing him. He’ll be okay.

A knot clenched in his throat as they approached. Micah’s room was at the end of the

hall, and Paris stopped outside the doorway. “I’ll wait in the lounge over there,” she murmured,

indicating around the corner to an open sitting area across from the nurses’ station.

Wesley nodded then turned his attention to the room, though in truth his awareness

hadn’t left it. A curtain with geometric shapes in various shades of blue blocked his view of the

bed, but he knew Micah was in there.

His hands sweating, he maneuvered the chair inside then tentatively, he peeked around

the curtain, almost afraid of what he’d find.

“Wesley,” Micah murmured. His face was a bruised, cut-up mess with a long gash

beneath one of his eyes. An IV was taped to one of his arms while a blue, knit blanket covered

him from the waist down. A light-blue hospital gown like Wes’ adorned his upper half.

“Look, we’re dressing alike now,” Micah joked weakly. “We were meant to be.”

Somehow, all of it made him appear fragile. Wesley wanted to hold him and protect him

from the world. It was too late for that. Tai had managed to attack even when Micah was with

Wes’.

“Hi, baby,” Wes greeted him, forcing himself to the side of the bed. He took Micah’s icy

fingers in his hand. “I’m sorry. So sorry.”

“Why? Tai did this, not you,” Micah sighed, the sound painful. “I never realized how bat-

shit crazy he is. And then my parents…they blame me. My father disowned me.”

“Micah…” Wes breathed in dismay. He disliked the Julians, but this had to be utterly

devastating to their youngest son.

“Yeah, ‘cause I totally pulled the gun and shot myself in the shoulder,” Micah said with

surprising ire. “They’re so messed up. They don’t even believe all these bruises on my neck are

from Tai choking me. They probably think I had something to do with the car ramming us—

‘cause that fucking felt great.”

Rage surged through Wesley, tightening his chest as he tried to stay calm. “Micah, I don’t

know what to say. I’d promise you my family, but—”

Micah patted his hand. “S’okay, Wes. You’re my family. Paris is my family…and

probably Ben. And Harrison. I’m dead to Maisie, Edward and Tai. But I’ve been a ghost in that

family for way too long. Right now, right this second, I can’t say I’m too torn up about it.”

“I hate to tell you, but the nurses are drugging you.”

“Good stuff.”

“Better than they gave me.” Wes took a shuddering breath, forever looming before him

even if he didn’t want to acknowledge it yet. He leaned forward and kissed Micah on an

unbruised bit of cheek. Their fingers twined as they gave each other strength.

Wes leaned his head on the side of the bed near their hands. He was exhausted from the

trip up here, but he had to be with Micah. They needed each other.

“Are you okay?” he whispered.

Micah’s hand inched to Wes’ head. His fingers rolled a few strands of hair between them.

“Yeah. I’m good now that you’re here. Wes?”

“Yeah?”

“Next time just fuck me until we can’t walk, okay?”

Next time…

Wes’ breath caught, stalling, and he shook. Tears welled in his eyes, and he couldn’t stop

them. Tears for all his buddies who hadn’t had a “next time”. Tears because he did have a “next

time” and a million more times after that. All with Micah.

Epilogue

One Year Later

“Micah, eat some pie.”

At Charlotte Romero’s demand, Micah looked at Wes. This was his first Thanksgiving

with the Romeros, since he’d been in the hospital last year, and now, Charlotte seemed intent on

stuffing him like the huge bird she’d served. Beside him, Wes dutifully spooned Cool Whip onto

his pie.

“Give it up,” he said out of the side of his mouth. “She won’t let you leave without pie.”

His mom thwapped him with a sheaf of paper napkins.

Resigned, Micah grinned up at Charlotte. “Yes, mom. Can I have cherry instead of

pumpkin?”

“You can have whatever kind you want, sweetheart,” she replied, beaming. She’d

managed to worm her way into his heart, becoming just like his mom—a real mom—in every

way except biological, which was good since he liked to get carnal with her other son.

He’d never thought he’d be accepted into a family the way he’d been accepted by the

Romeros. They didn’t treat him like an in-law. He was one of them even though he’d been born a

Julian. It made him feel guilty for his poor thoughts about them when he’d been growing up, but

he was so thankful that the truth had been revealed to him. He was thankful to be in this family.

He squeezed Wes’ hand, even more grateful for his Marine. Since they’d been together,

Wes’ dreams had lessoned substantially, though one popped up from time to time, but they were

becoming progressively more manageable.

Micah couldn’t ask for more.

An hour later, when they left, he paused to look across the street at the dark house. His

parents had moved after Tai had gone to prison. He didn’t know where, and they hadn’t tried to

contact him. Now, a For Sale sign sat in the middle of their yard.

“Don’t think about it,” Wes said, slipping an arm around him on the way to the car.

“It’s difficult not to,” Micah admitted. “They raised me.”

He sometimes wondered if they’d show up someday when he was giving a performance.

He’d played the scenario over and over in his head, but he wasn’t sure how he’d handle it. One

thing he did know for sure was that he wouldn’t deny who he was. Never again. Not with Wes’

strength by his side.

He looked up at the warrior who’d rescued him from the limbo where he’d existed. He

was every bit as beautiful to Micah as he’d been the night he’d come to his parents’ party, and

even more mesmerizing. As Wes drove home and they chatted about the game, Micah couldn’t

stop thinking how lucky he was.

Wes shot him a look as they entered their apartment, and that was all it took to drive

Micah from his rumination.

“Ready to work off that pie?” Wes asked.

Micah stretched, unable to hide his smile as he considered Wes’ cock sliding into him.

“What do you have in mind?”

“Loving you until you can’t take more.”

Micah wrapped his arms around Wes. “I’ll always be able to take more. I love you,

Romero. Forever and always.”

Wes kissed him, his lips a tender press that promised unleashed power to come. “I love

you, my Julian. You are my sun. My peace. Now and forever, Micah.”

About the Author

When it comes to books and movies, Brynn has one rule: there must be a happy ending. After
that one requirement, anything goes. And it just might in her books.

She lives in Michigan with her husband and two children, who love her despite her occasional
threats to smite them. They humor her and let her think she's a goddess...as long as she provides
homemade chocolate chip cookies on a regular basis. Brynn has conducted workshops at several
writers’ conferences around the country and enjoys mentoring and meeting new people.

According to Brynn, her writing success can be attributed to an eclectic collection of music, her
local road construction crews, a trusty notebook, and of course, her husband, Mr. Inspiration,
who puts up with a lot in the name of research.

Brynn loves to talk to her readers and can be found at www.brynnpaulin.com.

Also Available from

Resplendence Publishing

All In by Brynn Paulin

Erotic Gems Short

When Erik Porter’s friends dared him to kiss a random guy at the bar, he never thought things
would take a turn for the steamy. The dare leads to a connection he never expected and a night
he’ll never forget.

Midsummer’s Dreaming by Simone Anderson

Hayle St. James’ refusal to continue living a lie when he is confronted by his family about being
gay finds him on the back of a motorcycle riding through a forest in the middle of the night.
What he finds will either make everything worthwhile or break his heart.

Leife O’Neill has finally found the perfect man. A man who loves him for him. Hayle is
everything he could want in a partner. Too many things stand in their way. On the night that
Leife wants to declare Hayle is his, reality and responsibility collide with anger and jealousy and
more than one heart is on the line.

Stopping in the middle of the forest to make love under a full moon seemed romantic, however,
Hayle and Leife quickly learn that they are not alone and not everything is as it seems. One man
watches and waits for the opportunity to confront the man he loves, while another is forced to
face the consequences of his actions…

Vamplet by Dakota Rebel

To be or not to be? That is the question in this tale of love, loss and vampires.

The Castle Elsinore, home to the royal family of Denmark, has played host to myriad secrets
over many years. Recently, it has been the scene of the suspicious death of King Hamlet, the
hasty remarriage of the Queen to Old Hamlet's brother and the late night meetings of young
Prince Hamlet and his lover Felix.

Two broken boys, Hamlet and Felix have found comfort in their friendship since childhood. As
they entered adulthood, their friendship grew into deeper feelings. Hamlet leans on his mate for
support after the loss of his father and Felix takes strength from Hamlet as he endures the abuse
of his own parent.

But something is rotten in the kingdom of Denmark.

The return of his father leaves Hamlet scared and confused, not sure if the old King is a ghost or
is truly one of the undead. Just when Hamlet thinks his life cannot become any more difficult, a
life-shattering tragedy sends him into a downward spiral of confusion and despair. As his visions
become sharper and more frequent, Hamlet can only wonder if what he sees is real or if he’s
truly lost his mind.

Feral Lust by Mia Watts

As a third son of an Earl, Mr. Michael Hastings hasn’t a title or lands. Since a title comes with
responsibilities, Michael needs only money to leave the prying eyes behind and live a quiet
life—with another man.

Country recluse Viscount Lord Atherton is the bearer of a family curse. He must wed and
conceive an heir before his birthday, or live with the painful physical changes that turn him from
man to wolf, several times a month. But Atherton has another dangerous secret. His attraction to
men could place him at the end of the hangman’s noose for sodomy.

Atherton pays Hastings to help him find a wife by Christmas. Yet the more time Atherton spends
with Hastings, the more he wants to know. And when Hastings displays a lust for sex play that
rivals his own, can Atherton trust Hastings enough to share the truth behind his quest? As
Atherton loses his heart where he least expects it, he wonders if he can fulfill his destiny, or face
a lifetime of pain from the curse?

Duck! by Kim Dare

Raised among humans, Ori Jones only discovered he was an avian shifter six months ago.
Unable to complete a full shift until he reaches his avian maturity, he still can’t be sure of his
exact species.

But with species comes rank, and rank is everything to the avians. When a partial shift allows the
elders to announce that they believe Ori to be a rather ugly little duckling, he drops straight to the
bottom rung of their hierarchy.

Life isn’t easy for Ori until he comes to the attention of a high ranking hawk shifter. Then the
only question is, is Ori really a duck—and what will his new master think when the truth
eventually comes out?

Ash Swan by Amber Kell and Stephani Hecht

Cob Brothers Series, Book One

When Prince Landon Cob sees Brian Dawson, he's not sure what to make of the bicycle courier
with a pierced nose and green streaks in his hair, but the man's gentleness in feeding the water
fowl strikes a chord with him. In this story of Swan Prince meets Cinderfella, two men from
different backgrounds have to find a way to counter magic and divergent lifestyles to find their
happy ending.

In the Shadow of a Hero by Anna Mayle

A cop dies in the city, life goes on. For one little boy, though, it changed everything. Haunted by
his past, Maxwell Thomas has grown up homeless and friendless, trapped by his guilt. Prowling
the city, the small man guards the Church District like a vigilante, trying to make up for his
crime. When he rescues the wrong rent boy, he is pulled back into the madness that destroyed
him as a child. And now, another cop's life is on the line...

Nick Kenna is a beat cop with dreams of being a detective. When he stumbles across a murder
and the very unusual suspect, he finds himself caught, not only by the mystery of the vagrant he's
apprehended, but something deeper that sparks between them.

Will Nick be able to save Maxwell, from his past and himself? Or will love be lost as the broken
man fades into the shadow of his hero?

The Mark of Cain by Cash Cole

After a night of hot sex with an elusive Native American, Gage is left with a bullet wound and a
scarred shoulder from where a panther slashed him. The New Orleans police tell Gage that his
lover morphing from man to beast is highly improbable and that whoever broke into his hotel
room left no trace evidence, but Gage knows he hasn’t imagined any of this. He starts with the
only clue he has, the name of a town in Oklahoma where his lover said he was born. But can he
track down sexy Cain, who is in witness protection, before the assassins find and kill them both?

Possession by SW Vaughn

Devlin Island Series: Book One

Sully Shaw is one of three – a coven of gay male witches on Devlin Island, charged with
protecting the place from the ancient gate between worlds, deep in the woods, that sometimes
lets evil things escape. Sully’s job is to banish demons and spirits – which works for him,
because after his last disastrous relationship, he’d rather not deal with people. Until a gorgeous
stranger crashes on his private beach and needs his help.

Troy Landry was just out for a vacation, and maybe a fling, on Devlin Island. What he didn’t
bargain for was crashing his boat on the beach, finding a hot naked man who claims to be a

witch, and getting possessed by a demon who takes over his body when he falls asleep. The
demon can’t be driven out until dawn – so Troy and Sully have to stay awake all night long. Lots
of sex helps. But when they start falling for each other, incredible sex might not be enough to
overcome Troy’s insecurities, Sully’s past trauma, and a demon bent on releasing its brethren
and killing any mortal who stands in its way.

Moon Princess by Suzanne Graham

As Celina Maddock left the office on a Friday evening, her coworker jumped into her car and
demanded she get on the highway and drive fast after their sizzling kiss in the parking lot. She
never imagined she’d get the gorgeous Barrett Osborn ordering her around; however, when he
starts talking about Shadows, werewolves, and werebears, she becomes a little worried about his
mental health.

When Barrett’s lover, Stan Varka, offers his assistance in escaping the Shadows, Celina goes
along with their strange story about shapeshifters, because finding herself the center of their
attention becomes extremely erotic.

Once they’ve finished their night of playacting, Celina doesn’t think she could possibly have a
future with these two amazing lovers¼until they convince her that she really is the Moon
Princess and the only hope for establishing peace between the wolves and the bears.

Ryland’s Sacrifice by Kim Dare

Principles don’t pay tuition fees. When Ryland’s math scholarship disappears overnight, he has
two choices. He can borrow money from fellow student Jason Burrows, who has very interesting
ways of collecting debts. Or, he can volunteer to be thrown to the werelions.

One night spent playing the part of a willing human sacrifice will give him enough money to
finish his PhD. It seems like a good deal-right up until the moment he finds himself naked,
blindfolded, bound and surrounded by lions.

www.resplendencepublishing.com