Harlan's Ryde

Synchronous Seductions

Book One

By

Havan Fellows

Copyright © 2013 by Havan Fellows

Acknowledgements

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, locations, incidents and positions are completely

and absolutely a part of the author's skewed imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons,

living or deceased, businesses, events or locales are entirely coincidental and maybe a little bit

freaky. No scrapbooks were attacked by staples or staplers in the making of this story...it is

fiction.

Cover Art by Allison Cassatta

You can find her work at www.allisoncassatta.com

All rights are reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work

in whole or in part in any form by any means, electronic, mechanical or otherwise, is forbidden

without express written permission of the publisher/author. Thank you.

Dedication

For the Story Orgy.

This is where it started for me, with two stubborn men and six writers who might not have been

family yet...but damned if we didn't get there and stay. I love you all. <3

And now...for your reading enjoyment...

Harlan's Ryde

Synchronous Seductions

Book One

Chapter One

Harlan Mychels grabbed sodas out of the fridge for him and his man. He loved saying

that. His hot-as-all-get-out, buff, and delicious man. He sneaked a peek into the living room at

the man in question, Ryder Halloway.

Harlan couldn't believe his luck as to have Ryde's attention, not because of any college

status scale, or because of his Roman-gladiator build, or even because Harlan lacked self-

esteem—which he didn't; realists ran in his family. No, he couldn't believe it because Ryder had

never hung around Harlan's crowd; they attended the same university, but they ran in different

circles. Harlan didn't even know that he blipped on Ryder's screen until the day that Ryde had

approached him with the charming line, "Yep, I'm taking you out to dinner tonight. Hope you do

Thai, and me." Then the smirk came and down Harlan went. Figuratively, not literally—well, not

that night, at least. He couldn't even get pissed at Ryde's audacity; that smirk gave him a free

pass. It flustered Harlan so badly he had jotted down his phone number with a pathetic doodled

heart on Ryder's hand, then gone home and sat by the phone waiting.

That happened six months ago, six of the best damn months of Harlan's life. He looked

forward to the next six months, hell, the next six years. He knew a keeper when he saw one; he

could feel it. Today, here, now—time for this discussion had come. He returned to the couch and

looked into his soulmate's eyes. No matter how corny it sounded, Harlan was positive.

They drank their sodas and discussed inconsequential items, the nice easy banter that

doesn't fill up the silence but enriches it. Then he did it. He faced Ryder on the couch, took his

hand, and let it rip. "Ryder, half a year, you and me for a half a year." He swung his pointer

finger between them and smiled. "That isn't a long time for people just starting their adult life.

But long enough for me to know for sure, this works. We work. When I wake up in the morning,

I think of you. I have to stop myself from calling you and hearing your voice. I make breakfast

based on your favorite things to eat. I get dressed according to what you like to see me in, even if

I don't plan on meeting you that day. When you aren't around, I miss you, and when you are, I

can't touch you, look at you, be close to you enough." He stopped to catch himself before he

started blubbering. He aspired for maturity here. "What I'm trying to say is I love you, Ryder. I

want us to have a long, happy life together, and I think we should start that life by finding an

apartment of our own."

Harlan sighed with relief that he had actually gotten through his spiel without making an

ass out of himself and smiled at Ryder. For all the doubts he had about himself, this he didn't

doubt. He knew in his heart how Ryder felt.

Seconds turned to minutes, and his smile froze on his face. Why wasn't Ryder professing

his own love in return? He watched as the light left Ryde's eyes, as the smile faded. What had he

said wrong? Ryder loved him, he knew it; he just knew it.

Ryder began to talk, but the visuals Harlan got from Ryder's face and body language

were so strong that he only caught half the words: drunk, wrestler, future, fling, satisfied.

Finally Ryder's ramblings stopped and they just sat there looking at each other.

The silence between them was no longer amicable. Harlan ingested the words spoken, his

brain finally arranging them into the proper order. He didn't satisfy Ryder. Ryder had sex with

another man who did. Harlan felt his lips start to tremble, felt the moisture pool in his eyes, and

knew he had to get out of there. He couldn't—no, he wouldn't—cry in front of the man he had

just spilled his heart out to.

One fact was clear in his mind above everything else. His future didn't have six more

months, much less six more years. His future didn't have any more anything.

He dropped his half-empty can of soda on the table and watched it teeter, then fall off the

edge. He stood, using every ounce of strength not to fall the same way that can of soda did. The

pain shooting up his left side and landing in his heart felt real. His heart pounded, thundering

against his chest, threatening to break right through. It felt real. But hey, everything healed in

time.

Without uttering a single word to Ryder, whether in retaliation to his confession or in

anger to his own hurt, Harlan made a beeline for the front door and out of Ryder's life. He

changed his phone number that very same night and instructed his family not to pass any

information either way. He transferred to the local community college, needing the distance

away from his first broken love to have any hope in completing his studies. He had successfully

blocked all means by which Ryder could hurt him again...

Chapter Two

Ryder pulled the faded cut-to-size picture out of his wallet for his daily reminiscence. A

plain picture that wouldn't win a photo award, just the back of his hand with a seven digit

number and lopsided heart scrawled in green marker. A disconnected phone number now, but he

didn't keep this photo for the information it gave. He kept it for the sentiment and for the

reminder that he was the biggest ass in the world. How many people have a chance for true love

but turn their backs on it? Only one that he knew of.

He glimpsed his reflection in the rearview mirror, hardly recognizing the man staring

back at him. He supposed he had aged well. He didn't have any wrinkles. None from age but also

none from smiling and laughing and loving life either. His shaggy brown hair needed a cut,

something he should've done before coming here, and his dark brown eyes had no shine to them.

He wasn't anything that anyone would give a second glance to, and here he sat, about to ask for

so much more than a second glance.

Ryder ran his hand over his face, then replaced the picture carefully. Today was the day.

He'd promised himself this for three weeks, ever since the private investigator had taken that last

five hundred dollar payment and handed him the paper that had the power to change his life in

return. Yeah, it had cost him a pretty penny to find Harlan, everything in his savings and an

advance from his job, but it was worth it. He had to know if Harlan still thought of him, if Harlan

still wanted him, if Harlan still loved him like he had all those years ago.

He grasped the sheet and double-checked the address against the one on the mailbox. It

matched, a simple house, probably two or three bedrooms and a small front porch with its single

rocking chair and wooden rails.

He tossed the paper on the seat next to him and reached for the door handle, just as the

front door of the house opened and a beautiful red-haired man stepped out.

Ryder froze and tried to gulp air. Realizing he needed some help with this effort, he

reached for his inhaler, prepared for the wheezing to start. As he pumped two blasts of medicine

into his airway, he kept his eyes on the man who had haunted him for the last seven years.

Harlan hadn't aged any, still lanky and geeky and so damn gorgeous that Ryder's jeans suddenly

became snug.

Ryder took advantage of his parking job one house away on this residential car-lined

street and decided to just watch the beautiful man for a few moments. He took another hit on the

inhaler when Harlan, probably oblivious to the set of eyes on him, showed his back to Ryder and

bent to retrieve his newspaper off the deck. It should be illegal to wear pajama bottoms that

damn tight across the ass. They didn't look like they were comfortable to sleep in; they looked

like they were bought for showing off the goods. But the PI had promised that Harlan was single,

so he couldn't be wearing them for anyone else. Ryder said a quick little prayer that the PI had

earned the fee he demanded.

After a quick adjustment to his pants, he opened the door and stepped out, slamming it

probably a little louder than necessary. The next few seconds happened in slow motion, it

seemed, as he watched Harlan turn toward him. There Ryder stood, in front of his beat-up truck,

staring at the one man in the world who could complete him. That same man stood on the porch

staring blankly back. The ultimate face off: who would talk first, make the first move, start the

ball rolling?

An emotional pain jolted through Ryder. He didn't expect Harlan to embrace him or

welcome him with a smile, but this null look, completely devoid of any emotion, felt harsh.

These two elements combined proved too much for Ryder. Seeing Harlan after so many

years, in conjunction with this ache, was more than he could take. All the horrible memories of

their last encounter came flooding back, too fast and powerful. Ryder's breathing fluctuated and

triggered his asthma again. He doubled over on the hot hood of his truck and glared through the

windshield at the inhaler sitting on that damn sheet of paper.

"Son of a bitch! What did you do? Come here just so you can croak on my front stoop?"

Harlan jogged over to him and started going through his pockets. Precious seconds wasted

thanks to Ryder freezing up and now all he could do was put his mental strength toward keeping

his body from reacting to Harlan's impromptu search.

"Damn it, Ryde! Your inhaler! Where?"

Ryder tried to breathe as he fumbled in his pocket for the keys, halfheartedly gesturing to

the front seat. Harlan cursed again as he grabbed them and rushed around to the driver's side

door. Although it felt like minutes—really long and drawn out minutes at that—he knew it

couldn't have taken that long. He had Harlan's quick thinking to thank for that. Harlan shoved the

inhaler in his mouth and administered the medicine in two forceful pumps.

Ryder took control of the inhaler and allowed himself two more deep drags, not

remembering the last time he’d had to use it this much in a month, let alone a single day. He

remained slumped against his front bumper, breathing deeply on his own, trying to get control of

his lungs, heartbeat, and libido all in one moment.

When he finally got back to rights in two of those departments—because his libido had a

mind of its own—he turned to his savior of the moment with a lopsided smile. "Hey, how you

doing?"

Harlan just shook his head and started walking back to his house.

Ryder slumped his shoulders and stared at the ground as he turned away to get into his

car. His hand touched the handle and he stopped. "No," he whispered under his breath. He

whipped around and saw Harlan climbing the porch steps. "No!" When Harlan didn't stop, he

jogged across the front yard. "Harlan! This isn't how this is going to go down. We need to talk."

Ryder marched with purpose the rest of the way to Harlan, halting on the next-to-top step to even

up the eye contact.

"About what, Ryde? What could we possibly have to talk about? Let me think." Harlan

pursed his lips, crinkled his nose, and squinted, making the most obnoxious "thinking" face

Ryder had ever seen. "Let's talk about the weather, maybe? Or how about we talk about some

football, you always fancied that. Or I know." He snapped his fingers in Ryder's face. "Let's talk

about the fact that I spilled my heart out to you and then watched it get broken when you

admitted to not only cheating on me repeatedly, but then telling me you didn't intend to stop

because," he tapped his temple for emphasis, "what words did you use? Give me a second; don't

tell me. Oh yeah, because I couldn't satisfy you the way those hard as rock jocks could, and no

second best for you...in other words, me. Shall we discuss that?"

Ryder stared into Harlan's eyes, his own eyes mirroring the hurt in his words and voice.

Ryde embraced his shallow thoughts. If Harlan still hurt, then hidden feelings of some sort surely

lingered. The biggest mistake of Ryder's life was that day seven years ago when he allowed

Harlan to walk out the door. If he walked away now, today, then he'd be committing the second

biggest one. It was time for Ryder to stop making mistakes and step up his personality to make

this work.

So he stood straight and didn't dodge the topics. "Sure, that's definitely on the agenda

today, but first let's talk about what an ass I am. Hope you have some coffee made." He patted

Harlan on the shoulder and showed himself into the house, knowing that his forwardness would

rub Harlan the wrong way.

Chapter Three

Harlan couldn't believe his bad luck. Seven years. Seven fucking years since he had laid

eyes on the gorgeous man who had just walked into his house, three years since Harlan had

convinced himself that he didn't still love him, and at least a whole week since he had thought

about Ryde. Not that he kept count or anything.

But now this? Who did he upset above for them to piss in his cornflakes?

Since he had aired enough of his private life for his neighbors' amusement, and for no

other reason whatsoever, Harlan followed Ryde into his house without a word. But once the door

closes, all bets are off.

"What the fuck are you doing here, Ryde? What, were you just passing through and

figured you hadn't totally destroyed anyone's life this year? Because quite frankly, you've already

played that card with me, and it ain't my turn again."

Ryde stopped in the middle of the family room and turned slowly to face him. Harlan

leaned against the just-closed door to steady his legs, though he tried for the nonchalant look.

"Okay, get your jibes out now, don't hold back. Hopefully you'll feel better afterward.

Then we will sit down and have an adult conversation about the past, present, and future. So let it

rip." Ryde's come on gesture tipped the scales for Harlan.

"Seven years, Ryde. You can't just walk in here after seven fucking years and expect

everything to be hunky-dory between us. Should we stroll into the kitchen and I'll whip us up

some of those banana pecan pancakes you love and we can laugh about old times over coffee?"

The sly smile Ryde gave Harlan made his skin tingle in an oh-so-good way, which

ironically enough, wasn't oh-so-good.

"So you remember my favorite breakfast, huh? That's a start." Ryde looked around the

room again and nodded his head toward the hallway leading to the kitchen. "This way?" And off

he went again, like he owned the place.

Okay, get through a quick howdy doody with him, and then send him on his way. You

can't go through this again; you can't rely on something that never was there. It's not fair of his

damn still spectacular ass to come into your home and put you through hell again. Think of all

the failed relationships thanks to this guy, think of all the walls you erected in his honor around

your heart. Now here he is, six feet of mouthwatering, dunk-him-in-milk-and-eat-him-up

goodness, and you are still the geek with a collection of gag gift pocket protectors. Get rid of him

now.

Unfortunately, the only thing Harlan's body wanted disappeared into the kitchen. Har had

a brain and he had a mouth; the problem was that when they didn't agree, neither of them worked

properly. Apparently there was no getting the boys together today, either.

So the rambling started, and before he had his mandatory two cups of coffee. Not good.

"If you think for one minute I'm making you pancakes, you have another think coming. I don't

even have any nuts for them, and if I did, I wouldn't let you have them!" He winced and his eyes

widened. Did he just say that? Aloud? To Ryde? Oh hell, he needed Ryde's inhaler right about

now.

Damn Ryde and his knowing smirk. "Yeah, well, that's on our list of discussions also."

He started ticking them off on his fingers. "I'm an ass, weather, football, broken heart, and

having your nuts. What an itinerary we have for the morning. I'll make the coffee. Why don't you

go freshen up? You're way too accessible in those pajama bottoms for my liking." He turned and

started rifling through the kitchen cupboards.

Indignant didn't begin to describe Harlan, but he knew he had to get out of this room

before more crap spewed from his mouth. "Yeah, well, I'm gonna go shower. I'll be back, and

then I'll show you to the door." He did a mental head thump for that witty comeback and hurried

to his bedroom.

The hot spray of his shower pelted down on him within moments, and he tried to

understand exactly what had happened in the last ten minutes. How did Ryde end up making

coffee in his kitchen? How had he let this happen?

He soaped up his sponge and ran the fragrant suds over his chest, breathing in the

familiar scents of vanilla and cinnamon while ignoring the fact that his southern regions throbbed

for attention. No, jacking off with that man in his house, not an option. He would not think of

Ryde on his knees, begging to take Har's cock into his mouth. There would be no moaning

Ryde's name when he emptied himself against the tile wall.

Oh yeah, thinking of what he wouldn't do didn't help the situation. His shaft pulsed,

demanding, not willing to be ignored. He took it into his hand and grazed his thumb over the

head, closing his eyes and enjoying the light pressure. He traced the slit with his thumbnail,

lightly entering it while cupping his balls with his other hand. The sound of his own moan made

his eyes fly open, and he looked toward the closed door, visible through the transparent curtain.

He relaxed when he realized after a second that he hadn't made a loud enough noise.

Harlan soaped up his hand and grabbed his cock again, with a tighter grip this time. He

skipped all niceties and roughly worked up and down his shaft, his thumb pushing forcefully

down on the head with every upward take. His other hand remained busy massaging his balls and

sliding them against each other. He'd always liked it a little rough, and he thoroughly enjoyed

feeling it for hours after.

His breathing increased with the speed of movements, the heat in his body spreading to

his fingers and toes then zeroing in on his cock, his ass muscles clenching as he growled out the

one word he had swore not to say during his orgasm. "Ryder."

A noise came from the other side of the door, and he froze, the last of his cum dripping

out. Oh hell no, not today, not now. He rinsed and then turned off the shower. He wrapped a

towel around himself and opened the door rather violently, causing the door to bounce off the

wall. Sure enough, there Ryde leaned against the adjacent bedroom door.

"What are you doing in here? Making yourself at home, aren't you?"

Ryde raised his hands in a defensive pose. "Hey, just came to check on you. Coffee's

ready."

Did Ryde put an emphasis on the word "came" or was that Harlan's imagination playing

with him? Did Ryde smirk even more holier-than-thou or was that a trick of his imagination

also?

"Yeah, well, let me change and I'll be right out." He went back into the bathroom and

closed and locked the door. He stared at the countertop, wondering if whacking his head against

it numerous times would joggle his brain into doing something right.

He glanced up and went to wipe the steam from the mirror, but stopped. Ryde still, no

doubt, lingered in the bedroom so he couldn't scream like he wanted to. He took his finger and

wrote in cursive I will not love Ryder Halloway again. Juvenile? Yeah, but seeing it in writing

fortified him. He watched as the steam cleared from the mirror, and his message went with it.

Gone, but never forgotten.

Realizing his clothes were, of course, in his bedroom, he reopened the door. Yep, there

Ryde still leaned against the doorjamb. Steadying himself, Harlan walked across the room. "I

have to get dressed, so you can go wait for me in the kitchen."

Ryde straightened up and started walking toward him. Harlan backed up until his legs hit

the bed, and he sat with a plunk. Ryde smiled. "Gotta use the bathroom, out in three minutes.

Think you can dress that quickly or are you gonna give me a peep show?" Ryde cocked his

eyebrow in what Harlan could only assume was humor, and he went through the door.

Harlan rushed to get dressed within his time limit, forgoing his boxer briefs to save

precious seconds. He pulled his sweater over his head and heard a crash from the bathroom. He

ran over and threw the door open to see Ryde standing in front of the sink with soapy hands,

staring at his reflection.

"What the fu—" He followed Ryde's gaze to the mirror and saw what had happened. The

steam from Ryde's hand-washing had brought his message back, front and center for the world to

see, or more importantly for Ryde to see. His jaw dropped. Could the morning get any worse? He

met Ryde's gaze in the mirror and nearly lost his last trace of sanity when Ryde gifted him with a

cocky half grin. "It's not what you think."

Ryde shook his head and laughed. "Har, my dream, I don't know if you just made my job

here easier or harder. But I do love a challenge."

Chapter Four

Ryder sat at the kitchen table enjoying the scene in front of him. He could tell by Harlan's

scrunched brow that he troubled over how to prepare his coffee today. He had the same decision-

making face that had amused Ryder way back when. Harlan never liked to repeat the same thing

all the time. He remembered questioning Harlan about how somebody could take cream and

sugar in his coffee one day and drink it black the next. Harlan had simply replied, "Why did you

have Sprite for lunch today but a root beer yesterday? I don't always have a taste for the same

thing." Then he had looked up at Ryder through his eyelashes and innocently stated, "Unless that

same thing is you. I will always have a taste for only you."

Ryder honestly knew that moment was the beginning of the end for them. He'd known

Harlan would give up everything for him, even his future. But unlike Ryder, Harlan was smart

and capable and had choices and options that Ryder didn't, considering his subpar grades and

lack of skills. If Ryder had allowed them to continue on that track, Harlan would have hated him

down the road; he would've resented being held back. Better to cause him the pain and hate early

on, instead of waiting until they were both too invested. That reasoning alone proved Harlan the

smarter of the two. It also proved Ryder the more tenacious. Ryder counted on that tenacity to

reignite his relationship with Harlan.

"So, Har, I'm taking you for dinner tonight. Thai work for you?"

Ryder had to grin when Har's head popped up and a look of incredulity crossed his face.

Yeah, a tad aggressive maybe, but Harlan wouldn't have even let him in the front door otherwise.

He had to push, and push hard, in order to get what he knew they both wanted. At least, he hoped

Har wanted it.

"You sorry son of a bi—"

The doorbell rang and cut off the probable start of an argument. On Harlan's side, at least.

Not for Ryder, he refused to take the bait.

Harlan pointed a finger at him. "This isn't happening, got that?" He went to answer the

door.

"Sure it is, and the sooner you accept it, the easier this will be for you." Ryder followed

him down the hall. "This is really a nice house you have, by the way."

"Shove it, Ryde." Harlan yanked open the door.

Ryder hung back while Harlan spoke to someone, then turned with a bouquet of what

appeared to be wildflowers in his hand. Ryder straightened and stared at the flowers. "Who sent

you those?"

He wanted to wipe that smug look off Harlan's face.

"Why, Mr. Halloway, did you think that you were the only one interested in me? That

maybe I am so pathetic that no one would give me the time of day? These beautiful flowers come

from a gentleman friend of mine."

Oh, so Harlan wanted to play it that way, did he? Ryder crossed his arms over his chest.

"I don't think so. You don't have a boyfriend. I know that for a fact."

Harlan advanced on him, waving those stupid flowers around. "A fact? You know that

for a fact? Is it so hard to believe that I could get flowers? So I just planned this delivery myself

because I knew you were going to show up?" He inhaled the scent of the flowers, then shoved

them under Ryder's nose. "Smell those perfect flowers. Flowers that someone who would never

humiliate and hurt me sent. They're just lovely, don't you think?"

Ryder tried to step away but his back bumped the wall, and he pushed into it. He turned

his head to avoid the fragrant bouquet, but no matter where his nose went those damn flowers

seemed to wait for him. His lungs seized on him, his trachea closing up. He gasped and wheezed,

finally shoving Harlan away. He fell to his knees and clutched at his inhaler in his pocket. He

shook it a few times and realized it was empty. He tried it anyway, praying for one last puff to

relieve his abused chest. Nothing; nothing came out to relax his lungs, to expand them so he

could take a deep, fortifying breath.

His eyes watered, and he dropped the inhaler to the floor. He looked up at Harlan now

standing over him with those damn flowers clutched in his hand and pleaded with his gaze for

some sort of help.

Harlan threw the flowers down the hall as far away from them as possible. Too little too

late, unfortunately. He squatted at Ryder's side, sitting him up and mumbling to him to breathe

and relax. Yeah, if he could do that, Albuterol would be out of business. He felt his nose running

right along with the tears and just tried to concentrate on his body. He ignored the apologies that

Har now professed and took short, shallow breaths that made him feel light-headed.

He allowed Harlan to help him up and lead him to his car, not even trying to talk.

"The hospital is just around the corner. Oh, my God,I'm so sorry, Ryde, I shouldn't have done

that, you just made me so mad." Ryder let the rest roll over him while he focused on not blacking

out.

Chapter Five

Harlan drove home from the hospital completely worn out. He fucking hated hospitals, so

spending the whole day there first waiting for a room, then waiting for a doctor, and finally

waiting for the diagnosis; yeah, time he put this day to rest.

He noticed the packages on his front stoop when he pulled in to the garage, so he entered

his house through the front door instead of the garage one. He unlocked the door and picked up

the packages, wondering whom they might possibly be from. The flowers had shocked him. He

had never given Pete any reason to suspect they should get together. For Pete to send flowers

today of all days—the odds blew his mind.

He sat on the couch and put the boxes on the coffee table in front of him. Two boxes, one

larger than the other, not sent by post but private courier. His name scrawled on the top of both

of them in very familiar writing. Even seven years later he could still recognize Ryder's script.

Jeez, he did have it bad. He picked up the smaller package first. "Open first" was written on the

top, and since he'd put Ryde in the hospital for overnight observation, he figured he could at least

obey this one command.

He opened the box and pulled out a pocket protector. His breath hitched when he realized

exactly which pocket protector he held in his hands. On their first date, Ryder had presented him

with a simple gift, this protector. Ryder had stated that he thought geeks were hot as hell and

then handed it to him, but what made the simple white protector so special was the beautiful

picture Ryder had drawn of two holding hands on the cover. He could doodle better than the

average person, but he didn't enjoy it enough to try to build a career out of it. He only did it on

special occasions.

Harlan ran his fingers over the fading picture. He had left Ryder's house in such a hurry

that last night that he hadn't grabbed any of his stuff. He hadn't thought any of it worth facing

Ryde again, so he had written off this precious gift.

He noticed an unusual bulge in it and reached inside, pulling out a bunch of papers and

clippings. The one on top was a note: Remember the past, Harlan, not as a painful time, but as a

lesson on how we loved once and can again. Let it move us to our future.

Harlan had to chuckle. Words were not Ryder's forte. He wondered who had helped him

piece together that little tidbit. The other papers were clippings out of their yearbooks, all the

pictures of them together. There were a few crinkled pictures of them that their parents took and

the newspaper clipping of when they had participated in the Jump Rope for Heart fundraiser at

the university and raised the most money for the American Heart Association. He had done the

jumping rope, and Ryde had coerced everyone to donate.

Harlan spread everything on the table and stared. Ryder had kept his stupid pocket

protector for seven years? He had kept all of these tidbits from their relationship? Why? Ryder

cheated on him, not the other way around. Ryder blurted out all those hateful, hurtful words.

Why would someone who did all those things keep these mementos?

Harlan's eyes strayed to the other box, and he picked it up. This one was larger and

heavier than the other one. He pushed the contents of the first box to the side and opened the

other, pulling out what appeared to be a photo album or scrapbook of some sort. He placed it on

the table and with hands not quite steady, opened it up.

The first few pages were stapled pictures of Harlan, and he outright laughed this time.

Yep, only Ryder would attempt to scrapbook and use staples. His laughter died off when he

realized that these pictures were taken after the breakup. His graduation, his brother's soccer

play-offs, his parents' fiftieth wedding anniversary, all of these pictures had him front and center

in the middle of them. He recognized the anniversary one as a picture his sister had taken. Where

the hell did Ryde get these? His sister had been living in Paris for the past three years. Not like

he could just stroll on over to her apartment and ask for them.

The next pages that he flipped through were sketches that Harlan had never seen before.

Ryder had drawn the things Harlan used to talk about wanting. A house in the country with a

wraparound porch, twin motorcycles primed to race down dirt roads, a Dalmatian because after

watching that Disney movie Harlan just fell in love with those darn pups. Literally pages and

pages of dreams that Harlan had at one time hoped to share with Ryde, their future. The very last

drawing was a rendition of what their fiftieth anniversary would look like, them standing there

next to an enormous cake, with him shoving a piece in Ryde's mouth. Harlan stared at that

sketch. Easily the most beautiful work in the book.

Harlan didn't want it to, but this scrapbook impressed the hell out of him. So unlike

anything Ryder would normally do, but so like something Harlan would want. Then he turned to

the final page in this makeshift scrapbook and saw a note, stapled just like the pictures.

I can't ask you to forget the bad. I wouldn't dare try. But I can ask you to make a future

with me, for us. If you are reading this, then we've already talked and you know exactly why I

lied to you. I admit my mistake, making a decision for us without you involved in it, but it

happened. Let me correct the biggest mistake of my life, please. Then and now, you are the only

one in my heart.

Harlan stared at the note, rereading it, confused beyond all belief with absolutely no way

to get any answers.

"You lied?" The question played on a loop in his head.

***

Hours and a quarter-bottle of tequila later, Harlan still couldn't get those four little words

out of his head. I lied to you.

He slammed his glass down on the end table with a thud, next to the bottle of liquor and

two limes, one cut into fourths and one not. The whole lime bounced from the force and rolled to

the floor. All Harlan could comprehend...I lied to you...I lied to you...I lied to you... "Arghhhh!"

Harlan grabbed the Patron and swigged straight from the bottle—screw the glass—and popped a

piece of the cut lime in his mouth. He bit down on that small piece of fruit and sucked the tart

juice down his throat.

He knew that sitting in the dark in the dead of night getting damn near drunk wasn't a

great idea, but he couldn't help himself. The questions rolling around in his mind demanded he

not sleep, not rest, not see a second of peace until he got answers. Unfortunately, he'd almost

killed the man who could answer them.

The rind flew out of his mouth in a torrent of obscenities. Who the hell did Ryde think he

was, strolling in and yanking Harlan's world out from under him? And what was with the

pictures and crap? The pocket protector? Should the knowledge that Ryde had a "Harlan" box

change anything? Not damn likely.

He buried his head in his hands, trying to thwart the memories invading his inebriated

mind.

He threw the remaining lime across the room, screaming at the top of his lungs, "You

sorry son of a bitch! Why now, why the fuck did you show up now to screw with me? Why can't

you just fucking leave me alone?" His voice trembled as the tears flowed. He knew he avoided

speaking the real reason for his frustration, which pissed him off even more.

He sobbed out the real question. "What did you lie about? Loving me? Not loving me?

What was I to you?"

"My life."

Harlan twisted around at the familiar voice behind him. The tequila in his system caught

up with him and landed him flat on the floor. He wasn't sure what hurt more at this point: his ass,

pride, or heart.

He couldn't really see Ryder, just the silhouette in the doorway. "What are you doing

here?"

"I checked myself out of the hospital. Hold me overnight for observation for a simple

asthma attack? Yeah, no. I got a new inhaler and filled my prescription for Advair, then got outta

there. Thank goodness you live so close to the hospital. The walk helped me get my thoughts in

order. And now it's time for our talk."

Harlan watched Ryder cross the room and sit on the hassock in front of him. He scooted

back just a tad for safe fleeing distance. Cowardly, but he wasn't thinking on all of his pistons at

this point.

"Should you have left the hospital? What if you have another attack? You told them you

had three today already." Harlan hated that his anger automatically took a backseat to his worry.

Ryder's chuckle unnerved as much as his smirk, making Harlan's skin goose-bump and

his pulse race. "Unless you plan on attacking me with another bouquet, I'm pretty sure I'm safe.

You aren't locked and loaded right now, are you?"

"Ha ha ha. I already apologized. Besides, I keep the deadly dandelions in the lockbox

under my bed. In fact, I'm trying to come up with just one good reason why I shouldn't go for

them now."

He reached for the light, but Ryder caught his hand. "No. Whatever you do, don't turn on

the light. Please. I have a lot to say and no matter what persona I may put out there, I'm nervous

as hell."

Harlan closed his eyes and enjoyed the feel of Ryder's skin against his.

I lied to you.

He yanked his hand back and spoke quietly. "What did you lie about, Ryder?"

Chapter Six

Ryder took a breath and put his game face on. Showtime, the moment of truth. While

mentally psyching himself up, he wondered if anyone had deduced that under his perfect

portrayal of a cocky bastard, he second-guessed himself with the best of them. He excelled at

bold and in-your-face tactics, but only to cover up his own insecurities. Insecurities that ruined

his chance of happiness seven years ago. Well, namely one insecurity, that they would only ever

sustain "good time" status, never more. Sure, Harlan had claimed to love him, but they were

barely adults, and he didn't have the brains that Harlan did, didn't have the drive to succeed in

life, and didn't have anything to offer. The morning after Harlan walked out on him, he had an

epiphany. He realized that offering his heart was all Harlan would have wanted. But Harlan had

so thoroughly disappeared and his family had shunned Ryder so absolutely that his insecurities

completely and utterly ruined all chances of reconciliation.

He had single-handedly fucked up the relationship, but in the end he paid the ultimate

price. Total abandonment by the most important thing in his life. If not for the kindness of

Harlan's sister, on that one occasion she did talk to him, he wouldn't have had those few

mementos that he had cherished for the past seven years.

Now he prepared to ‘fess up to his faults and pray that Harlan would forgive, not only the

lies, but also the truths.

"No more games, Harlan. So I'm going to start off with telling you that I love you. I have

since the moment I saw you in the courtyard with your buddies. It may have taken me weeks to

get the courage up to approach you, but it started that day and has never ended for me.

"I realized early on in our relationship that you were going places. You are so damn smart

and likable; you demand loyalty from all your friends without actually demanding it. You are the

person that everyone either wants to be or wants to be number one with. How the hell could I

compete with them? I may not be stupid, but, well, I'm not in your league either." Ryder bounced

his knee up and down with the extra tension that he funneled, his heel projecting off the floor

with a springing action.

"For a not-stupid man you're a fucking idiot!" Harlan forcefully interrupted. "Since when

was it a competition? Did I ever give you the feeling that you were ranked among others? Fuck

you, Ryde! You terminated our relationship because I have friends?" Harlan stood and Ryder

immediately restrained him with a hand on his arm.

"Stay right where you are, damn it! I'm going to have my say, and then you can decide if

you want to throw my ass out or not. Understand me?"

He had to smirk as Harlan grunted out an answer. "Okay, I'll rephrase that. I am a stupid

man, but only when it comes to you and my feelings for you. I felt like I fell down an abyss with

my love and that it was hopeless, no light at the end of the tunnel to save me. I didn't have faith

in us; I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. I just knew that I would be shattered when you

wised up and realized that you could do better. In my warped thinking, I had to protect myself.

But I couldn't let you go. I couldn't just break it off and be done with it. I'm not that strong, then

or now, not by a long shot.

"So I figured that if I fucked up enough, you would do the messy work for me. That's

how cowardly I am. I went to this bar outside of town and got sloppy drunk. When a guy hit on

me, I allowed it. When he took me behind those damn black curtains behind the bar, I allowed it.

God help me, when he...well, I allowed it all."

"I seriously don't want to hear this!" Harlan broke out of Ryder's grip and walked away.

His walk was a little unsteady, but had enough control not to hit anything or tumble.

Ryder watched him go for a whole of maybe two seconds, and then he followed him

quickly. "I am not finished, Har." They ended up in Harlan's bedroom again.

"Get the fuck out, Ryder! Out of my house, out of my life, and for damn certain out of

my fucking bedroom! This is my place and you aren't welcome here!" Harlan spun on him,

getting in his face with their noses so close to touching that Ryder could feel the heat. "You think

it's okay that you cheated because you were drunk? Alcohol excuses your bad behavior? Oops

sorry, the whiskey made me fall and my dick went into his mouth, my bad?" Harlan spoke that

last sentence in such a snide manner that Ryder actually felt gut-punched.

Something in him snapped. He had come all this way, and he would be damned if he left

without having his say. He had imagined this much differently; Harlan pissed to no end, sure, but

listening at the very least. In Ryder's warped reasoning, he knew he had done wrong, knew he

didn't deserve another chance at happily ever after, but damn it, he did deserve at least five

uninterrupted minutes! He looked around the room and spotted what he needed hanging on the

inside of the open closet door.

"Hey, not-so-stupid man, the front door is that way." Harlan pointed in the other

direction.

Ryder ignored him and grabbed two ties that hung on the inside of the closet door and

turned back to Harlan. "I love you, Harlan. That's my only excuse for what I'm about to do."

Ryder held the ties up, causing Harlan to take two steps back. "What are you babbling

about? What are you doing with my neckties?"

"All I need is for you to listen. Just hear me out for a few minutes. Stop being all high

and mighty and allow me to explain. I'm going to ask you to do something I have never asked

you to do before. If you promise me you'll say yes, then I promise you when I'm done talking I

will leave. Thirty minutes of your life, that's all I'm asking here."

Harlan eyed the neckwear again and then looked into Ryde's eyes for a good long

moment. The silence expanded between them as Ryder waited, guessing that his love internally

debated with himself again, weighing the pros and cons. Running through all possible outcomes

like only Har could do. He relaxed a little when Har visibly gulped and nodded. "I promise. But

what are you going to do with those?"

Ryder maneuvered Harlan to the bed and tied his hands to the posts. Ryde could tell from

the sweat beading on Har's forehead that his nerves had ratcheted up some, but he had to move

forward. He retrieved one more tie and went to wrap it around Harlan's head as a gag. Harlan

shrank back a tad and only stilled when Ryder touched his face. "This is the promise, love.

Complete and utter silence from you so I can explain, okay?"

Chapter Seven

Harlan watched Ryder pace back and forth. Like he had a right to be upset. He wasn't the

one bound and gagged in his own bedroom, against his will. Okay, Harlan would concede that he

wasn't put here against his will, per se...but this wouldn't be his first choice of venue for a

conversation with his ex-boyfriend. Harlan chalked this up to one of those extremely bad

decisions brought on by one too many shots that people regretted afterwards.

He glanced over at his bedside clock and realized there was less than an hour to go before

midnight. His mind boggled from the way this day had gone. First Ryde turning up, then the

hospital visit, and now finally being in a light BDSM wet dream. He mentally rolled his eyes that

Ryder thought he had to tie him to the bed in order for him to listen. What, was he twelve or

something? Then he mentally flipped Ryder off for actually doing it.

"Okay, you were right on a lot of issues but wrong on some also."

Harlan's attention came back to Ryder as he sat on the bed. "This has gone on long

enough, and I've never been good with words so I am just going to say what I have to and be

done with it."

Harlan watched Ryder take a melodramatic breath, then continue, "Yes, I did cheat on

you. No, not multiple times, just that once behind the black curtain. Yes, I did drastically

exaggerate about how many and their skill levels compared to you but no, not even remotely the

truth. Yes, I hit the sauce pretty damn hard that night, but no, I didn't cheat because I got drunk. I

got drunk so I could cheat."

Harlan started tugging on his restraints. He'd be fucking damned if Ryde thought Har

would stay here and listen to this dribble of an apology. He cussed Ryder out around the gag and

flailed his legs to get Ryde off of his bed and away from him. Scrunching up his eyes so he didn't

have to look at the bastard, he humped the air with all his might, trying to free himself of this

obviously bad idea of a prison. All to no avail. Sweat beaded on his skin, and his muscles

contracted with the effort he had put forth.

After what seemed like forever, he fell back to the bed shaking with emotion, his breath

rushing past the gag in his mouth. He even stopped yelling profanities toward Ryde since they

only came out as gibberish. He did, however, keep his eyes closed so he didn't have to look at the

cheating asshole.

"Are you quite done?"

Harlan gritted his teeth together. He might not see the smirk, but damned if he couldn't

hear it in Ryder's voice. Color him thrilled that Ryde found this amusing. He felt the bed sag,

then felt a weight on his chest, the shock making him quickly open his eyes. Ryder's sparkling

peepers were right in front of him as Ryder straddled his chest. Harlan tried repeatedly to buck

him off until he realized that the more he bucked the closer Ryder's groin got to his face. Oh, not

good, not good at all. No matter how much his mind wanted to hate this man, his body wanted to

do other things with him. He forced his gaze from the bulge in Ryder's jeans and looked up at his

face, wincing when he realized Ryde had caught him peeking.

"And you probably thought it overkill for me to tie you up and gag you. Do I know you

or what, Harlan?" Ryder ran his fingertips down the side of Harlan's face and neck, then back up

again. Harlan jerked his face away. "I'm sorry I'm making a cluster-fuck of my apology. Let me

try again, without"— he stated the last word more loudly when Harlan tried again to buck him

off— "repeating anything."

Ryder went from his straddling position to lying completely on top of Harlan, his legs

bent and ankles hooked over Harlan's legs so that the majority of Ryde's weight rested on his

knees.

"I just knew you would eventually grow tired of me. My logic was that if I forced you to

end it on my terms instead of you doing it on your own, well, then that would be better, right?

Then I still had the power; then I wouldn't have to wonder what I did wrong or wait for the other

shoe to drop. I sabotaged our relationship in order to save my heart. Or at least that's how I saw

it. But I now know the error of my ways, Har. As soon as you walked out that door with that look

on your face, I knew I had screwed up majorly."

Harlan tried to pull away when Ryder lifted a little on his elbows and cupped his face

with shaking hands, but really, where could he go? "It wasn't until the next morning that the truth

hit me. You wouldn't have cared if I was a prince or a pauper; you only asked for one thing from

me, and I screwed that up. I tried, Har, I tried to go to you. I hunted for you around campus, but

everyone said you were gone; I begged and pleaded with your parents to give you notes, to let

me see you. I terrorized your brother and sisters until Lizzie actually threatened to call the cops

on me. I reached a dead end and I was lost.

"I ended up dropping out of college and getting a job in a warehouse, working my way up

to foreman. I got a nice one-bedroom apartment that I call home. I got that beaten-down truck

out there that runs like a dream. But I never filled the hole in my heart. I never dated because no

one had what I wanted or needed. No one was you."

He removed the gag from Harlan's mouth and looked down at him, "I need you, Har. I

need to do whatever I can to make this right. I can't promise I won't screw up again, because I

will. It's in my blood. But I can promise that I will never be with another man but you, I will

never allow another to have my heart because you own that, and I will always try to make you

happy. Come on, Har. Please give us a chance?"

Harlan blinked rapidly to stop the tears. "I can't, Ryder. I barely escaped the last time

with my sanity, and I won't put myself in that position ever again. My heart isn't on the market,

not for you or anyone else. Never again."

He flinched when Ryder punched the bed by his head. "Damn it, Harlan! Not the answer

I wanted. And definitely not the answer I'll accept."

"Get off me now, Ryde, and untie me. You got your five minutes of fame with me. It's

over, this show is over. I just want you to leave."

Ryder looked up at Harlan's wrists and smiled, a completely wicked grin. "I tied them

pretty damn good, didn't I? I'm thinking that no matter how much you struggle, you won't get

yourself free."

"Ryder, unt—"

Ryder covered Harlan's mouth with his hand. "Nope. If words aren't going to work with

you, if I can't convince you that you still have feelings for me with my brain, then maybe I

should use something else." He ground his hips down on Harlan, and Harlan moaned, knowing

full well that Ryde felt what he tried to ignore, a very interested organ that never listened to his

brain.

So help him, if his hands weren't tied, he would slap that fucking smirk right off Ryder's

face. He twisted his head to dislodge Ryder's hand. "Doesn't mean a damn thing, Ryder. I'm a

guy, we get hard-ons."

"Mmmm...yes, we do." To emphasize his point, he rubbed their matching erections

together again, mimicking Harlan's moan. Harlan met his hips, sighing at the friction against his

cock. Then he realized what he was doing and immediately pulled away from Ryder.

"Stop doing that!"

"Of course, if that's what you want." Ryder stilled his hips also and started nipping at the

slight stubble on Harlan's chin, working his way up his jaw and flicking his tongue out at the

corner of Harlan's mouth. "Does this suit you better?"

Harlan jerked his face away. "I said to stop doing that."

"Technically you said to stop doing this..." He thrust against Harlan again and did a little

grinding as well, causing Har to gasp. "I did. You never said to stop doing this..." He took

Harlan's earlobe into his mouth and rolled it between his teeth.

"Yeah, well, you should stop...ah...well..."

Ryder let go of his prize long enough to whisper into Harlan's ear, "I should stop what,

Har?" Then he nosed behind Harlan's ear to attack the delicate skin there. "Should I stop this?"

He worked his mouth down Harlan's neck and bit into the skin just above his collarbone. "Or

maybe I should stop this? You need to specify what you're talking about, because once I stop

something, I'm bound to start something else."

Harlan squirmed under him, groaning, to his own chagrin. But what really got him was

when Ryder breathed up his neck and started nibbling on the corner of his mouth. He bucked up

into Ryder against his will, knowing that his body would win and his heart would pay later.

"It's just sex, Ryde. Nothing more than two old lovers having a one-night fling. No loose

ends to tie up, no morning-after breakfast."

"Well, to tell you the truth, you're already tied up and I really don't do breakfast

anymore." Ryde lifted his head and looked into Harlan's eyes with the first serious face Harlan

had seen on him.

Chapter Eight

"Just fuck me, Ryder."

Ryder schooled his expression to hide the scowl that formed in his head. If Harlan had

uttered those words out of love or even lust, then damn, that would ratchet up the heat level in

this room. But the aggravation that seemed to ebb out of his voice just didn't do it for Ryder.

"No. You make no mistake about this, Harlan. This isn't me getting my rocks off. This is

us, together again. This is me making love to you." Ryder licked along Harlan's jawline. "Me

sucking every inch of your skin into my mouth to taste." He reached up and pulled on the knot to

release Harlan's right hand, then rubbed the muscles of Har's arm. "Me reminding you that no

matter how stubborn your mind acts, your body knows who owns it. Me making you feel like the

center of my world, because you are." He switched to the other hand, released and revived that

one also, all the while nuzzling Har's neck and nipping at his ears while whispering the words

that he should have spoken seven years ago. "Me showing you that no other man could ever fill

my heart the way you do, proving to you that it has always been none other than Harlan Mychels

in my past, present, and future."

Once done making sure that the extended bondage hadn't done any damage, Ryde moved

to Harlan's mouth and whispered his final vow against the perfect, soft lips he had dreamed about

his whole adult life. "Me. Loving. You." A gentle kiss acted as a period between each word, to

drive the meaning into Harlan's thick skull.

Then Ryde sealed their lips and demanded entrance. He could feel the reluctance from

Harlan, but he didn't let up, forcing his tongue between those lips and running it along the inside

of the bottom one until Harlan finally got with the program and relaxed his jaw just enough for

Ryder's tongue to dart in.

Ryde closed his eyes and memorized Harlan's taste: the sting of tequila, the sour bite of

lime, and the underlying flavor that belonged solely to Har. He pushed harder against Harlan's

mouth, trying to engulf himself in the moment, knowing that his fear that this could be a one-

shot deal was very real. He caressed Harlan's tongue, rolled it over his, teased it to come and play

with him, and finally sucked it into his mouth.

Euphoria erupted in him when Harlan sighed into his mouth and tugged on his hair. He

knew he didn't have Harlan yet, but maybe his actions could break through the walls that his

inept words couldn't.

Then, as quickly as Ryder had begun the kiss, Harlan ended it, yanking his mouth away

and whispering harshly, "Enough of the foreplay, Ryde. Let's do this now." Harlan grabbed

Ryder's shirt and tugged in opposite directions, ripping it all the way down to his waistband and

ensuring that Ryder wouldn't be able to wear it ever again. The destroyed garment was then

yanked down his arms and off his back, tossed aside without a second thought. Before Ryde

could even register the cool air rolling down his spine, Harlan attacked his pants with such

vehemence that Ryde could feel the zipper bust off of the teeth. Before he lost precious body

parts to Harlan's attack, he scrambled off the bed and removed the material that obviously pissed

Harlan off.

Climbing back on the bed, he reached for the button on Harlan's jeans, but Har pushed

him aside and wiggled out of his clothes just as urgently.

"Baby, we have all night." Ryder tried to grasp command of this spiraling situation. The

importance for him to slow Harlan down and make sure this didn't end up a one-night fuck was

of the highest priority to him. Problem was, the way Harlan attacked their coupling, Ryder feared

it wouldn't be the emotional connection he needed.

Harlan tossed his shirt aside and looked at Ryde. "Not gonna take all night." He lunged

for Ryder and pinned him to the bed. "Just need an hour or so and then this book can finally

close for good." The kiss that Harlan crushed on Ryder's lips lacked the sensuality or love of the

first kiss, this one full of hurt, rage, and desperation.

Ryder took Har's face in his hands and tried to soften his lips, but Harlan wouldn't have

any of it. He shook his head free and latched on to Ryder's sensitive nipple, using more teeth

action than Ryde remembered him doing. When he tried to touch Har in return, his hands got

blocked once again. He growled and easily tossed Harlan onto his back, straddling his waist.

Bending forward, he gently lapped and nibbled at Harlan's own nubs, one after the other, noting

how Har grasped the sheet in his fists.

He started down Harlan's body, nipping and sucking skin on the journey. Harlan's legs

wrapped around him, and once again he found himself on the bottom, his legs now hanging off

the side of the bed, feet touching the floor. Harlan bit into his neck, sending shivers running

down Ryder's spine straight to his already engorged cock.

Harlan was delusional if he thought he could win a test of strength between the two.

Ryder wrapped his arms around Harlan, grasping his perfect ass, and stood up, causing Har to

keep his legs clinging to Ryder's hips or risk falling. "Stop, Harlan, let me love you." He gently

kissed Har's brow and cheek as he walked them to the wall and pressed them against it. "Let me

do this."

Ryder rotated his hips slightly so that his cock prodded Harlan's cheeks. With a simple

grope of his hands, he nestled himself between them, thrusting and rubbing, causing Harlan's

hard cock to press between their abs. By Harlan's intake of breath, Ryder knew he enjoyed both

experiences immensely.

Harlan's fingernails dug into his shoulders as he bit along Har's collarbone, rolling the

skin between his teeth and sucking up marks. He grunted with every movement of his hips. This

was what he'd been waiting for. Seven years of self-imposed celibacy because he wouldn't settle

for anything short of this very moment. Only Harlan would satisfy his hunger.

"That's right, baby, just feel. So good, baby, this is so good, we are so good."

Harlan's head snapped up. "Feel! Don't you think I've been feeling? For fucking years

that's all I did. I felt pain and hurt and betrayal. I'm done with feeling. Just fuck me and make me

forget, damn it!" Har used his back muscles and pushed them away from the wall.

The force of Harlan's words combined with his weight had Ryder staggering backward

trying to keep them both upright. He landed on the tiny nightstand, which immediately gave way

to two grown men, and they crumpled to the ground. Fortunately, Ryder had enough wits about

him to make sure he landed first so that Har wouldn't be crushed. When he saw the busted lamp

and clock, he rolled them over so that they weren't near the sharp debris.

"Harlan, pl—"

Harlan rolled them over yet again, bumping them into the bureau so hard that Ryder had

to move his head when a bottle of cologne fell. "Shove it, Ryder." Harlan squirmed down

Ryder's body and engulfed his cock in one smooth movement.

"Fuck, Harlan!" He shouted over the noise of things still toppling over on the bureau

above.

Ryder felt Harlan shift slightly. He glanced down his body and had to do a double take.

Harlan was evidently multitasking, which didn't bode well for Ryder's prowess. Without

dislodging Ryder from his mouth, he reached over to the broken nightstand and yanked the

drawer out. Ryder felt slightly better about his prowess when he saw Har extract a bottle of lube

and a condom. His head thudded back down, and he grabbed two handfuls of hair when Har

made his way to Ryder's sac and proceeded to suck the skin there.

He tried to twist around so he could also taste Harlan, feeling the wet tip of Harlan's cock

on his leg making him want to lick every drop up and not waste a bit of it. But for every

movement he did, Harlan countered it so they were basically still in the same position. "Harlan,

please, come up here, let me."

He was almost disappointed that Harlan had to release his balls in order to answer, "No.

You don't get that. This is closure for me. You got your closure when you ended us. This is my

time now." And with that he ripped the condom packet open and sheathed Ryder, then Harlan

squirted some lube on his fingers and reached his arm back to prepare himself.

"Baby, don't. Not like this."

Harlan ignored his sweet words and kind coaxing. He liberally coated the condom and

positioned himself over Ryder. "Not like what? You wanted to fuck. That's what we're doing.

Just giving you what you want. Like old times, right, Ryde? I just hope I can satisfy you." Then

he impaled himself on Ryder in one quick movement. Ryder's scream combined with Harlan's

loud moan made music that propelled Ryder to push up into Harlan.

Harlan used his legs and pistoned up and down at a speed that demanded Ryder pick up

his pace. Ryder took hold of his hips and tried to guide the action. He had figured that Harlan

was on a mission, but so was Ryder. When Ryder tried to sit up, Har roughly shoved him back to

the floor and planted his hands on his chest to hold him.

He could feel his scrotum drawing into his body as Harlan's actions pushed him closer to

the moment of release, but he couldn't allow that. He couldn't allow this to end like this.

Mustering his strength, he swiped at Har's arms, causing Har to collapse against his chest. Ryder

hugged Harlan close to his chest, holding him still as he used every spare muscle he had to lift

them off the floor and inelegantly crabwalk them to the bed. Har tried to fight the whole way

there, squirming and pushing against Ryde's chest.

Setting Harlan down gently on the edge of the bed, his heart broke when he saw the tears

rolling down the sides of Harlan's face into his hair. He rubbed them away with his thumbs as he

started gently moving again. "I'm sorry, Harlan. I love you, baby." He just repeated those words

with every thrust, every movement of his body joining with this man's.

He leaned over and held Harlan close to his heart, kissing the wet streaks and moving

faster. Harlan constricted around him, crying out as he emptied himself over both of them.

Only then did Ryder allow his own body the release it sought, growling as he too came.

Still holding the man he loved, still murmuring his loving apologizes, and still believing that they

did have a forever.

Chapter Nine

Harlan waited it out until he was in control of everything: his breathing, his blood

pounding, his heart breaking again. This had been a mistake. He now knew beyond a shadow of

a doubt that, yes, he still loved Ryder. He had tried to deny it, tried to fight it, and he had lost. He

should have never allowed this. He didn't have the strength to withstand it. He mustered the

courage to push against Ryder's chest and wiggle out from under him, gasping softly as Ryder

slid from his body.

He rolled off the other side of the bed and went straight to his bureau, withdrawing a pair

of flannel pj bottoms and yanking them on. "There's a trash can in the bathroom for the condom.

You have a long drive ahead of you. I'll fix you some coffee to go." He spoke without turning

around. He kept his eyes averted as he headed for the door.

"So that's it? I must admit I've never been on the receiving end of the whole wham-bam-

thank-you-man type of situation."

Harlan stopped and put his hand on the doorjamb for the stability that he definitely didn't

feel. "This is the way it is. What did you expect? Did you think since I didn't buy your pathetic

apologies that you could trap me into something with your body? That sex with you would make

me fall to my knees and beg for a repeat of what was a disastrous relationship? I learned from

my past; maybe you should too."

He didn't hear Ryde get off the bed, so when a hand clamped on his arm and swung him

around, he teetered a little bit and stumbled away when Ryde tried to steady him. "Trap you?

You have the fucking nerve to say that all of this"— he gestured to the bed, the wall, the broken

table, and the mess on the bureau— "all of this was some elaborate trap that I conjured up?

When exactly did I set this trap? While in the hospital trying to breathe or on my walk back here

when all I thought about was how to convince you that I love you still? You must have a damn

low opinion of yourself to think that you can be caught that easily in such a devious trap."

"Get dressed, Ryde. I don't have any more fight in me for you."

Ryder sneered, "Yeah well, in your rush to enjoy my goods you kinda ruined my

clothing. Guess I'm stuck here, huh?"

Harlan gritted his teeth and walked back to the drawers, yanking the bottom one right out

of the dresser. "Son of a bitch!" He gestured to the ground and the scattered clothes. "Pick

something that will fit your swollen ego and get out."

Ryder walked to the clothing and grabbed some black sweats. Har was quick to step away

from the mess. While reaching down for a T-shirt, Ryde stopped and moved the clothing over,

grabbing something and holding it up, looking at Harlan inquisitively. "Guess I'm not the only

one who's clinging to the past. I remember the day I loaned you this sweatshirt. I told you that it

was my favorite and stressed how I never allowed anyone to wear it, let alone remove it from my

house. That it had belonged to my father, the only thing I really had left of him when he passed.

What does this mean exactly, Harlan? Tell me." Ryder shook the sweatshirt in time with his

raising voice.

Harlan looked away from the shirt. He should have gotten rid of it long ago, but he

couldn't. Just like he couldn't part with it today either. He snatched it out of Ryder's hands. "Pick

something else and get the fuck out! I won't explain anything to you! I don't fucking owe you a

damn thing!" He moved away and sat on the bed with his head in his hands, realizing that he

couldn't run out of his own house.

He heard Ryde dressing, and then he heard footsteps. He counted the seconds until this

would be over and he could start repairing what Ryde once again succeeded in breaking.

When he heard Ryder's voice, he cringed, not wanting to listen to anything that man had

to say. "I explained. I apologized. I accept that I fucked us up. Only me. We both suffered thanks

to me being an insecure kid. I'm offering you a way for us to right my wrong. I can't force you to

take it. But know this: now it's you fucking us up. Only you. Hell, maybe this is for the best.

Because I won't allow anyone to persecute me every chance they get. I don't deserve that. So if

you really can't get past this, then yeah, that's it. It's all you now."

Ryder's steps faded toward the door again and he whispered, "Harlan, I will never love

anyone the way I love you."

Harlan heard rustling from the other room, then the front door slammed. He raised his

head and saw his reflection in the mirror, the red, puffy eyes and lips that were swollen courtesy

of Ryder. He slowly rose from the bed and walked down the hall, subconsciously following the

path he knew Ryder had taken right out of his life. He noted absently that a drawer in his desk

was open, but he couldn't bring himself to worry about it, his feet still shuffling him toward the

front door. Then he stopped. On the table by the front door was a lone white envelope with his

name scrawled across it.

Harlan tentatively took the envelope and ran his finger over the scribble that passed as

Ryde's handwriting. This was so unfair. He was fine just two days ago. He had a great job, good

house, money to spare, and even if he didn't have a love interest, he had enough prospects to

make sure any night he had an itch, he could get it scratched. Now the idea of anyone but Ryder

touching him made his skin crawl.

He tore open the envelope and retrieved a Polaroid from it. Not what he expected at all.

Maybe a half-assed attempt at poetry or even something lifted out of a book, which was

obviously his forte, but a picture? A Polaroid that was cut down to fit a wallet and taped on the

edges to keep it from falling apart, the type of thing that someone who stapled items into a

scrapbook would do. Harlan shook his head, smiling.

He turned the picture over and drew in a sharp breath as he slid down the wall to sit on

the floor. Not even feeling the sting in his tender ass, his mind tried to make sense of what he

was looking at.

Chapter Ten

Seven years ago...the beginning

"Ryder Halloway? Ryder Halloway asked you on a date, and you doodled a heart on his

hand? In green marker? Oh, you're going to be lucky if he even calls you after that one!"

The cackling, annoying laughter of Harlan's best friend, Ritchie, got his focus off the

non-ringing phone for at least a brief reprieve. "Well, he didn't actually ask me, more like

informed me. What was I supposed to do? I didn't have my school supplies in hand at the time. I

wasn't on campus for classes, just checking in on my senior thesis with the professor. All I had

was the darn marker and no paper. He didn't have anything on him either."

"Well, duh, the Neanderthal probably doesn't even carry his own books. He bullies us

geeks into doing it for him. Seriously, dude, step away from the phone and come out with me. It

was probably just a big elaborate hoax that he and his friends thought up. Something to make

their afternoon of skipping classes go by faster."

Harlan shook Ritchie's hand off his arm and went back to staring at the phone. "Go

without me. You didn't see his eyes or that smirk when he informed me about our plans. Nope,

he's gonna call. He let me write on his hand in marker; that shit ain't gonna erase anytime soon.

He'll call."

Ritchie knelt on the ground and weaseled his way between Harlan's legs, propping his

elbows on Harlan's knees. "So what if he does call? What are you going to do then? You're

relationship-challenged, Harlan, and he definitely is not. He'll get a go out of you and then leave

you broken-hearted while he moves on to the next sucker. Let's go dancing or something; you

promised on my birthday you would take me dancing. That was months ago, so come on."

Harlan had to smile at his friend's whiny voice. He used it all the time and still expected it

to work. "I'll tell you what, Ritch, if Ryder doesn't call by eight tonight, I will take you dancing

and let all the cute twinks hit on you. But give me until then, okay?"

"Ninety minutes, sure, I can do that. It's not like he's gonna call, and you promised now,

so there's no backing out!" Ritch jumped to his feet, sorted through Harlan's prized vinyl

collection—his one and only indulgence—and did his trademark victory dance to Queen's song

"Somebody to Love."

"Cute, Ritch, really subtle, too." Harlan laughed and threw a pillow at Ritchie's head. He

ducked the pillow and went into a gyrating craze, only to be interrupted by the phone ringing.

"Hello?" Harlan didn't even have the receiver completely to his ear when the greeting

came out of his mouth.

"Hey, Har, let's go."

"Um...okay? Where do you want me to meet you?"

The doorbell made him jump. Ryder's chuckle through the phone made him wonder what

else that wicked mouth could do and real damn anxious to find out.

"The front door is a good place to start. I'll be waiting."

Harlan stared at the receiver.

Ritchie stood there staring as Harlan hung up the phone. "Was that?" He pointed to the

phone, then switched his direction and pointed to the front hall. "Is that?"

"Oh God, Ritchie, I'm not dressed properly! I didn't even shower yet; he was supposed to

call! How did he get my address? This isn't good!"

"Calm down, I'll get rid of him for you." Ritchie headed out of the bedroom.

Ritchie's words sparked a flame under Harlan's ass, and he leaped up. "Shove it, Ritchie!"

He stopped him in mid-stride. "You are going to exit by way of the kitchen door, and I'll call you

tomorrow. You hear me?"

"Yeah, yeah, like a dirty little secret, gotcha." He started walking toward the kitchen and

at the last minute, winged a right and ran for the front door, Harlan quick on his heels,

whispering vehemently at him.

Unfortunately, Ritchie arrived at the door with just enough seconds to pull it open before

Harlan could stop him. There was Ryder. Harlan gulped when he saw just how there Ryder was:

tight, well-worn black jeans, forest-green button-down silk shirt, black biker boots with (gulp

again) chains, and a thick black belt with flat silver studs. This was a look he'd never seen on the

T-shirt- and-holey jeans-wearing Ryder from school. It made him feel kinda good that Ryder had

put thought into his dress, until he remembered that he was wearing his own T-shirt and frayed

jeans. Harlan would have paid good money right then for the floor to swallow him up.

"Well, hello there, your highness, and are you selling Girl Scout cookies today?" As

usual, Ritchie's voice brought him back to the here and now.

He hid his laugh when Ryder patted Ritchie on his shoulder and maneuvered himself into

the house. "Sorry, fella, Girl Scouts aren't my cup of tea. But I have a suspicion you already

know that." Then Ryder's eyes met Harlan’s and he forgot that his body needed oxygen. "You

ready to go?"

"Um..."

"You know, it’s common courtesy to give someone more than a minute warning that

they're going out. My boy here, Harlan, isn't ready yet. Maybe you should come back later, like

never, and he'll be good for you then."

"Ritch—"

"I don't know what you're seeing with those beady eyes of yours, but I think he looks

damn good the way he is. Harlan doesn't need to get decked out like some guys do." There was

no mistaking the pointed look Ritchie was receiving.

"Ryd—"

"Says the man wearing a silk shirt and, oh my God, did you actually iron your jeans?"

"That's it!" Harlan walked between the two nuisances and glared at Ritchie. "I will call

you tomorrow and you have a good night." He pushed Ritch out the front door and slammed it

just when Ritchie started in on the dancing plans again. Then he turned to Ryder. "Um...that's—"

"Ritchie, yeah, I've seen him around school. He's a bit of a shit, don't you think?"

"Hey! He's my best friend. And, yeah, he is, but he's the best, most loyal shit I could ask

for and only I get to call him that."

He looked at Ryder, and they laughed together. Then he allowed Ryder to show him out

to his car. When Ryder opened the door for him, he realized that something was wrong, missing.

"Hey, what happened to my number on your hand? That was permanent marker."

Ryder smiled while Harlan sat in the car, and then he took his place behind the wheel

before answering. "Took forever for me to scrub it off."

Harlan stared at his hands clasped in his lap. It was stupid feeling this way, but to know

that Ryder had scrubbed to get rid of his phone number, damn, that just plain old hurt. He was

still memorizing his hands when a pink-wrapped gift was tossed onto his lap. He picked up the

lightweight rectangle and looked at Ryder questioningly.

"Gotcha something, don't mind the wrap, it's all my mom had in the house."

"Pink?"

Ryder swung his car in and out of traffic as they headed for the only Thai restaurant in

town. "Hey, her best friend had a baby shower. Be glad it doesn't have storks and diapers on it."

He turned the gift over and over, wondering what could fit in such a slim package while

Ryder found a spot and swung his car into it. Tearing the paper at the top, he slid a pocket

protector out of the wrapping. A pocket protector? Harlan supposed that was better than flowers.

Then he noticed the front of it was hand-decorated. It was intricate; he would bet it took more

than the couple of hours from when Ryder asked him out to the time he showed up on the

doorstep. That small fact alone made his whole body warm and his stomach tie in knots.

"Yeah, well, I happen to think geeks are hot as hell, so there you go. I'm pretty okay with

the whole drawing thing but I kinda hate doing it and...well...yeah, got you that."

Harlan had to smile at how quickly Ryder exited the car after his babbling. He followed

suit, and they headed to the entrance of the restaurant. Ryder obviously had his composure back

by then and opened the door for him, placing a hand on his lower back and everything. Then they

got to the hostess stand, and he grabbed one of those cheap magnets for take-out orders.

"Here, yet another memento of our fabulous first date." He handed Harlan the magnet and

smirked.

"Yeah, but I don't know if it is fabulous yet." Harlan couldn't help but tease him. He

handed the magnet back to Ryder and smirked. "I'll let you know if you've earned a place on my

fridge. Until then, maybe you should hold on to that."

A chuckle followed, and Harlan had a feeling he would seriously have to get used to that

spine-tingling noise. "Oh, it will be fabulous, and it will be the first of many, many dates. Trust

me on this one."

***

Maybe he should trust Ryder on this one, also. He looked at the photo once more. Ryder

may have scrubbed his hand clean of the marker, but he had evidently saved the moment for a

very long time.

Harlan looked up to see that he had unconsciously strolled into the kitchen. He grabbed

the portable phone and dialed a number as he went to the side of the refrigerator, the side that

was not visible to anyone unless they wedged themselves between the wall and the refrigerator.

With the phone at his ear ringing, he ran his finger over the Thai restaurant magnet. It really was

a fabulous first date.

Chapter Eleven

Ryder reached out and knocked his alarm clock off the bedside table and clear across the

room. He went through more alarm clocks that way, but hey, at least it stopped that annoying

noise. He tucked his arm back under the blanket and tried to ignore the blissful aroma of freshly

brewed coffee in hopes of just five more minutes of what had been his own facsimile of sleep.

Huh?

He opened the one eye that wasn't buried in his pillow and sniffed deeply. Coffee? Why

did he smell coffee? He sure as hell didn't own one of those fancy schmancy machines that

brewed on a timer. He pulled himself out of bed, tugged on the pair of black sweatpants he had

become addicted to, even if they were a few sizes too small, and followed his nose into the

kitchen.

He stopped in the archway that separated his tiny family room and tinier kitchen,

dumbfounded. There, standing in the center of his kitchen, in his apartment, in his town, was

none other than the man who had robbed him of peaceful sleep this past week.

His inability to speak was fixed when Harlan turned toward him with a wide smile, a

plate of pancakes in one hand and a full pot of steaming coffee in the other.

"What the fuck are you doing here and how the fuck did you get in?"

"Good morning, sunshine, did you wake up on the wrong side of the bed?" Harlan blew

him a kiss, took two whole steps to the table, and proceeded to organize a feast for breakfast.

Ryder noted that maple syrup, butter, and plates of eggs and thick-cut bacon were already there.

"Come on and sit down, we can talk while we eat. I made your favorites." Another short

trip to the fridge and back with a carton of orange juice that Ryder knew for a fact he hadn't

bought, completed the table's ensemble.

He would have held out and not moved an inch but damned if that coffee didn't call to

him. Harlan always made the best coffee. He added cinnamon bark and orange blossom to the

fresh ground beans, and the experience was riveting. But Ryder thought that a shot of Kahlua in

it might be what he really needed this morning.

"Fine. But how the hell did you get in here?"

Harlan smiled indulgently as he heaped food on the plates. "Thanks to my best friend,

Ritchie, I am here gracing you with my presence. You remember Ritchie, right? There isn't a

lock he can't pick. I blame his infatuation with breaking into his sister's room as a kid to try on

her clothing."

Ryder cut into the pancakes and savored the banana pecan masterpieces that they were,

thick and sweet and crunchy just the way he remembered them. "Humph," he grunted around his

bite, washing it down with the brew that was just as terrific as his memory recalled. "So how is

that shit doing?"

"Ritchie? Oh, he's great. Sorry to hear that nobody has turned you into a eunuch yet, but

good."

Ryder shook his head in dismay. "I'm surprised he didn't jump into your bed the second

you walked out on me. He was always in love with you, you know. Made my life a living hell,

always telling me how you could do so much better. No need to guess that he considered himself

the better you should be doing."

"Yeah, Ritchie does love me. He always will, I suppose, as I will him. That's how true

best friends are."

Ryder stopped the shoveling process to stare at Harlan. "Did you? And he? Is that what

this is all about? You figure I haven't paid enough, so you decided to come in here and flaunt the

fact that you fucked that shit?" His fork clanged against his plate as he readied himself to get up.

"Sit down and shove it, Ryder. I fully believe that I don't owe you any explanations for

the past seven years, but if we want this to work between us, some things do need to be aired.

First off, no; Ritchie and I have never had sex. The most we have done is sleep in each other's

arms. At one time he might have loved me like that, but he has too much self-respect to accept

being second-best for anyone; and he knew that anyone I was with would always be second-best.

Because none of them would be you.

"After I opened that envelope and saw what you had left for me, I needed to talk. Not to

you, to the one person who has been by my side through everything that you and I went through.

So I called Ritchie to get his opinion."

Ryder snorted. "I can just imagine how that conversation went."

"Well, after the whole 'why hasn't he been neutered yet?' advanced to 'too bad he isn't a

eunuch' topic, Ritchie said some fairly enlightening things."

Ryder waved him on. "Please, Har, enlighten me."

The patronizing smile Harlan gave him irked. "That's when Ritchie mentioned that I was

never as happy as when I was with you. Oh, sure, I put on a good show, I dated, slept around,

partied like it was 1999. But he said he could tell that my heart wasn't in it. That none of my

boyfriends had a chance because I never let them get that far. Then he simply stated that if you

had balls enough to show up on my doorstep and were stupid enough to return after I tried to

snuff you with a bouquet of wildflowers"— he held up his hand to stop Ryder's comment— "his

words not mine. But he said if you really went through all that and tried to scrapbook, that I

needed to get my head out of my ass and hightail it over here.

"He asked if I was so goddamned full of myself that I could flick my nose to a second

chance at true love when most people in the world don't get a first chance." Harlan stopped and

shook his head. "Ritch has never been one to mince words, not even with me."

Ryder once again found himself in a state of shock. Ritchie had encouraged this? When

he didn't comment, Harlan continued, "Don't get me wrong, he's probably sitting at the Starbucks

on the corner waiting for me to storm outta here. Especially considering his parting words to me

were 'dibs on who screws it up this time.' But that won't happen, because here is how this is

gonna go down."

"Excuse me?" Ryder couldn't keep the disbelief out of his voice.

Harlan smirked. "Yeah, it sucks when your attitude is used against you, doesn't it? But I

figure between your annoyingly cocky stubbornness and my hardheadedness we are in for a

bumpy ride. Every pun intended, by the way."

He got up and started cleaning up the plates that Ryder didn't even recall emptying.

Ryder took advantage of the break to get a word in edgewise. "I've got to get to think." He shook

his head and corrected himself before Har could. "I mean I have to get to work, I'm already

running late now."

"Oh, well, about that." Harlan's sheepish look put Ryder on the defensive.

Ryder set his palms on the table and tensed his arms. "What, exactly, about that?"

"Well, while I was waiting for you to get yourself out of bed I sorta found your cell

phone in the family room. So I figured I should be proactive and took the liberty of calling your

boss for you. He said to take a four-day weekend and he'll see you on Monday. Really nice guy,

by the way." Harlan turned and started rinsing the dishes.

"You. Did. What?"

"I do believe we will start by taking care of that basket over there first." Harlan pointed to

a basket on the far counter, filled with empty picture frames. "I'm judging by the number of

frames that those belonged to the pictures that you put in your...um...scrapbook. And since you

obviously aren't one for dusting, it wasn't hard to realize that they had a home on your mantle. So

I declare that part of the day be put aside for taking new pictures to occupy these sad, empty

frames, pictures of us...together."

Ryder could tell that Harlan's bravado was wavering; his hands weren't completely steady

anymore, and his eyes started darting around. Ryder just sat there with his arms crossed, not sure

what to do or not do. Part of him wanted to drag Harlan to the bedroom and do the makeup sex

properly this time, without the anger that had hovered last time. The other part of him, the

irrational, proud part that was screaming at Harlan's nerve to break into his house and make

himself at home after throwing his ass out last week, well, that part wanted to repay the favor and

demand he leave, to take his smugness and get the hell out of his life. There was a reason pride

was one of the seven deadly sins.

Then he heard Ritchie's words, irritatingly enough in the prick's voice to boot. Could he

afford to flick his nose at a second shot with Harlan? If so, then why the fuck did he even bother

finding the man? He looked at the empty picture frames. He'd willingly given up the items that

he held dear for this to work, so why was he even contemplating turning this chance down?

Harlan was bending damn near in half and all he had to do was accept it. Ryder's pride would

survive if he accepted the olive branch instead of being the one giving it, right?

Harlan's soft voice broke through the fog of Ryder's thoughts. "Ryde? Please.

Just...please." Har spread his arms wide with his palms up. "I love you, never stopped. Please

don't make this hard on us."

Ryder's mind snapped into perfect alignment, and he realized what the hesitation was. In

all the pretty words that Har had said to him, those three important ones weren't there. There

really was no decision to be made. It was made seven years ago when he realized his fatal

mistake. He would do anything to have Harlan back in his life.

He stood and took one step toward Harlan and gave the original smirk and chuckle, the

one Har tried to duplicate. "Problem with that is, it's always hard when it comes to us, Har." He

closed the space between them and literally slammed his mouth down on Harlan's. He felt the

tingle of the pressure and prayed he didn't just bruise his boyfriend. Oh, now that sounded right!

What felt right was his now-prominent erection grinding against Harlan's growing one,

and the more solid Harlan got against him the more he seriously considered dragging him to the

bedroom. He thrust against Harlan's groin. "See what I mean, baby? Always hard. I love you,

too, Har, and I will never let you forget that, not even for a moment."

Har reached up and cradled Ryde's face in his hands, running his thumb over that enticing

swollen bottom lip. "This will never happen again. It was a seven-year lesson that we both

learned from. I shouldn't have been so hardheaded as to cut off all communication between us.

We can't get back the lost time, but we have the rest of our lives to fill with each other. We'll just

have to make it count."

Then a wicked gleam came to Harlan's eyes. "I do believe you owe me a blow job, by the

way."

Ryder pecked his lips one more time, then sank to his knees. "I can't think of a better way

to start our happily ever after."

The End

Synchronous Seductions

Book Two

Emery's Ritches

Ritchie won't admit that he's heartbroken. Emery won't accept less than all of Ritchie's

affection. How will meticulous Emery win snarky Ritchie for his own?

Ritchie Lymings is wallowing in self-pity after seeing the man he loves—his best friend—
reunited with his arch enemy. He's drowning his sorrows in coffee and caramel when an
irritating stranger barges into his life, determined to make him smile. Even if this interloper is too
dense to understand his faux pas, Ritchie figures he may be good for a quickie to get his mind off
of his immediate situation. A simple round of love 'em and leave 'em sounds promising.

Emery Hutchins recognizes Ritchie immediately when he stops for his morning coffee and
breakfast. His friend Ryder had been telling him stories about "the infuriating twit" for years.
Fate and coincidence were two things that normally gave Emery cause for pause, but he couldn't
let this opportunity pass him by. Unable to relinquish control to fate though, he immediately
devises a plan to make the deliciously snarky Ritchie his own, one hundred percent completely.

But for these two diverse personalities there is one major problem. How can Ritchie's attitude
and Emery's meticulousness blend together, or is this an oil and water mess?


Excerpt:

"Oh wow, and here I feared the worst, that you would never break through that dark look

and smile. Now that I've seen your smile, I'm pretty sure I never want to see you without it."

Snapping out of his daydream, Ritchie turned to the intruding voice and set eyes on the

sexiest man he'd seen in a long time. Short golden hair on the sides, longer in front, clear silver-
blue eyes, high forehead, and pouty cupid's bow lips. Hot damn, he's a god.

After a few tense seconds, Ritchie finally found his voice and attempted to put it to good

use. "Can I help you?" Okay, not good use, but use at least.

"Most definitely, in so many ways too."
Ritchie's brows drew together and he couldn't hold back the growl. "Excuse me?"
The man smiled, wide and easy. "I wondered if I could share this table with you? This

place gets busy in the blink of an eye. Plus I seem to have bought two coffees and two scones so
I was thinking we could have breakfast together." And with that, he placed two cups and the

single plate with two cinnamon chip scones he had meticulously juggled onto the table. He then
proceeded to make himself at home in the chair across from Ritchie.

Ritchie glanced around and noted at least three empty tables, and pointedly glared back at

his interloper.

That easy breezy grin didn't falter and the man didn't miss a beat. "That table wobbles,

almost spilled a whole cup of their hazelnut all over me the other morning." He pointed to empty
table number one. Then he directed his finger at empty table number two. "Sitting right next to
that table you'll find Mrs. Glein. She's a widow and sweet as pie, but keeps insisting I meet with
this mysterious grandson of hers named Stevie. Now considering she only has one grandchild, a
beautiful woman named Stephanie, I figure she wants to convert me. I would rather skip that
conversation this morning." Ritchie glanced over at the old lady. She smiled widely at the
stranger and he waved and nodded back in acknowledgment.

Then he turned his attention to the third table that now housed two students with their

laptops. "And darn if I didn't just miss that table by a millisecond. Good thing I got this seat
when I did, huh?"

Ritchie took another sip of his coffee, trying to process how to lose this guy. He was

obviously ill in some department no matter how hot he might be. Ritchie tilted his cup all the
way back, then remembered it was empty. He set the mug back down a little too heavily causing
a loud clacking noise that caused many of the patrons to look up with disapproving glares.

Then he looked back at his company, who held the extra steaming cup out to him.

"Caramel latte, I believe?"

Begrudgingly, Ritchie took the cup and sipped some more. Damn near everything could

be solved with the blessed combination of coffee and caramel. Staring into those clear silver-blue
eyes from across the table, he stressed the damn near part.

"So, to what do I owe the great honor of your company?"
Grinning (of course, Ritchie mentally rolled his eyes) the man said, "You can owe the

great honor to the fact that I didn't want to eat breakfast alone. Usually I don't mind, but when I
noticed you so melancholy I decided today I minded."

Ritchie nodded. "Ah, I get it now. You're one of those do-gooders that just has to stick his

nose where it isn't wanted. Come to turn my frown upside down, have you? Thanks, I appreciate
the pity, but I'm doing just fine pitying myself. Don't need your help."

"But you did need my coffee and you do need to eat something." He placed one of the

scones on a napkin in front of Ritchie.

"What are you, my mother?"
He winked at Ritchie. "Not exactly, I don't have the proper equipment for that. Though

now I think I should start pitying myself that you didn't notice." And for the first time throughout
this whole weird interaction, the stranger's smile turned into an exaggerated version of a pout.

Ritchie rolled his eyes for real this time, and against his will, he felt himself smirking in

response to that pout.

"Ah ha!" Not surprisingly the pout disappeared. "I knew I would break down your

defenses eventually. So who is he?"

"Excuse me?" Hadn't he already said that during this conversation?
"Who's the guy that's got you all knotted up? Only way for someone to look that

downcast is when love's involved. Since you aren't all pissy and mad, well, not any more than
what I assume's the norm for you," the man chuckled at his own joke, "I have to deduce that it's
unrequited love. The guy obviously doesn't understand what a joyful gem you are. So I repeat,
who is he? Shall I hunt him down and explain the error of his ways?" He popped a bit of scone
into his mouth and managed to smile through the closed-mouth chewing process.

"I'm sorry, am I putting off a vibe saying that I'm a people person or something? Because

if so, I need to fix my vibe-o-meter. What makes you think it's a guy anyway?"

And...

Synchronous Seductions

Book Three

Geoff's Teddy

Fuzzy is an unsatisfied ladies' man. Geoff's a bear-loving man who satisfies. Problem?

Convincing a straight man that satisfaction might be just around the bend.

Overall Fuzzy has a good life. He loves his family & friends, he enjoys his job and he never
hurts for a date. The ladies seem to love the furry Fuzzy -- so why does he feel like he's missing
out? And why does a surprise dinner with a strange man interest him more than a flirty hot
waitress?

Geoff knows who he is and what he's after. He's searching for a big hairy man to wrap around
him. But none have been right -- until he's manipulated into dinner with Fuzzy. Tall and broad,
Fuzzy claims he lives up to his name. Everything that Geoff wants in a boyfriend. Except Fuzzy
is straight.

When an opportunity arises -- Fuzzy is obliged to crash at Geoff's for the night -- Geoff works
his derriere off to see what else he can make arise. Because he's determined to capture this Fuzzy
wuzzy all for himself.

Excerpt:

Geoff wanted to retract his words. Had he just offered to be Fuzzy's Gay for Dummies

guide? Did his brain not work properly around this bear? He couldn't possibly talk to this man
about sex without sporting the biggest boner in the world. Talk about bad, bad ideas! The worst!

On the other hand, he couldn't help smiling and wondering just what Fuzzy would ask.

By the look on Fuzzy's face, Geoff doubted he could even think of anything anyway.

"It's just a suggestion, but if you aren't comfortable enough to ask me any questions—"
"I don't want you to think I'm an ass or something." Fuzzy mumbled his words so softly

they were barely audible.

"Throw a question at me."
Geoff noted that Fuzzy hadn't met his gaze at all since rising from the floor. In fact he

seriously studied the two men on the television. Geoff had almost died of humiliation when he
realized what channel he had left the TV on. Now he considered it a blessing in disguise.

"Okay." Fuzzy's soft voice caused Geoff to focus again. "They both seem to enjoy it."

Fuzzy addressed Geoff while nodding at the entertainment they inadvertently partook of.

Huh? "Well, if you're not enjoying sex, then there's a good possibility you might be doing

something wrong."

"Never mind." Fuzzy's neck turned red in embarrassment, and Geoff immediately

realized his mistake.

He scooted closer to Fuzzy and put a hand on his arm. "Sorry. There's a malfunction with

my brain to mouth filter half the time. The good news, you'll always know what I'm thinking.
The bad news, you'll always know what I'm thinking." He chuckled to lighten the mood. "So, we
both agree they're enjoying themselves. Your question?"

Fuzzy took in a deep breath but still didn't turn his head toward Geoff. If staring ahead

helped Fuzzy through this conversation Geoff could handle that. Because he really wanted inside
Fuzzy's head, all puns intended. Could this mean something? Or did Geoff's own desires put
possibilities out there that didn't exist?

"I'm not an idiot. I get the mechanics of what they're doing, but shouldn't it hurt?"
The mechanics? Oh wow, Geoff almost didn't have anything to say to that.
"First, what they're doing is having sex. It's okay to say the word. You don't have to refer

to the act as 'it' all the time. Second, the pain level depends on the preparation you do
beforehand. Also, if you have a partner who's only interested in getting his rocks off, then yeah,
that tends to land on the not good side."

"Preparation? You mean butt plugs?"
Geoff had to remind himself that Fuzzy wasn't a blushing virgin, even if he kind of fell

into that category in this situation. "Well, yeah, that's one way of doing it. I own a few myself.
They are good for masturbation. But that's not my favorite way."

"What's your favorite way?"
"I like my lover to stretch me. I like his fingers inside me getting me ready. It's more of a

connection. In my opinion, if he wants to take the time to relax me properly, then he cares about
both of our pleasure and not just his."

"So you let someone stick their fingers up your, um…"
"Ass? Yeah, that's where the action will happen, so that's a good place to begin." Geoff

patted himself on the back for not laughing out loud.

"But doesn't it seem weird letting someone touch you there?"
God save me from newbies. Now he understood why Fuzzy hesitated to ask his questions.

He guessed vocalizing some of them without seeming either insensitive or downright rude might
trip him up. "Does it seem weird when you touch a woman's pussy?"

The red on Fuzzy's neck darkened. "That's different."
"Why?"
Fuzzy finally tore his eyes from the television screen and studied him. "Well, because,

um…" His voice wavered off, and Geoff supposed he contemplated the question seriously. "I
guess no, not so different, huh?"

Geoff wondered if it was wrong to want to do a happy dance. He'd gotten through the

first roadblock. Unfortunately, another one always waited around the bend.

"What does it feel like when someone" —Fuzzy took a breath before continuing— "when

someone stretches you?"

Welcome to the next roadblock.
Geoff searched his mind for the perfect words to describe that sensation. Words that

would appeal to Fuzzy. He had to get this right because honestly, one half of his mind had begun
plotting when the conversation turned down this road. If he played it right, if God truly existed, if
Fuzzy labeled himself bi-curious—or more—maybe, just maybe, this could turn into a show-
and-tell instead of just tell.

"It's a connection that's not easily surpassed. In my opinion, it's as intimate as a good kiss

or actual penetration. Someone taking the time to make sure you enjoy the moment as much as
they will. Talk about heady stuff. But I don't believe that's what you meant by feel, you meant
the physical feelings not emotional, correct?"

Fuzzy simply nodded, the acknowledgement Geoff waited for. He knew that's what

Fuzzy wanted all along but had seized the opportunity to verbalize what an act like this meant to
him.

"Well, a burning sensation, but if done properly, it shouldn't hurt as much as you would

assume. Also, if you're distracted in the right way during the stretching, well, so much the
better."

"It doesn't hurt?"
Geoff searched around for a hard object to bang his head on. "Tell me. Exactly how

curious are you about this subject?"

Fuzzy eyed him warily. "What do you mean?"
"How about a little round of show rather than tell?"

Havan Fellows Author Bio

I annoy, love, respect, scare, seduce, hurt, anger, infatuate, frustrate, flatter, envy, amuse and
tolerate everyone. I just do it better in writing thanks to a little thing called...edits.

Okay no, seriously...I'm a simple minded person who enjoys the escape from real life through a
book. I write with the group Story Orgy and hope to continue doing so for a long time and I
follow my muse where ever he takes me … he hasn't failed me yet! I'm also published with
Breathless Press. And just like every other red blooded human – I love hearing from people. So
feel free to drop me a line – whether it's a comment on my blog, an email, a tweet or you track
me down on FaceBook or Google + … it's easy to catch someone who wants to be caught.

Blog -

http://havanshawthaven.blogspot.com

Email –

[e-mail]

Twitter – @havanfellows
FaceBook -

http://www.facebook.com/HavanFellowsauthor?fref=ts

Google + -

https://plus.google.com/100539863028704367957/posts

Additional titles by Havan Fellows

Story Orgy

And The Prompt Is...Vol 1

And The Prompt Is...Holiday Edition

(also avail as a solo release

And The Prompt Is...A Trace of Christmas Spirit)

And The Prompt Is...Road Trip Edition

Synchronous Seductions Trilogy

Harlan's Ryde

Emery's Ritches

Geoff's Teddy

Pulp Friction

Wicked Solutions #1

Pulp Friction – Sweet Exchange

Change of Dynamics

Other World Collection

Djin 1

Wish Me Nothing

Anthologies

Freaky Flashes

Free Read

Lucky Night