Sequel to Snow Angel
Last year, Dean Chapman fell in love ... with another man. He’s fallen for childhood friend Jay Reid, and as Jay is a kind, loving soul, Dean knows he holds an angel’s heart in the palm of his hand.
Since they’ve moved in together, most of their friends and family have been supportive. But the one person who knows just how to wind him up, drop him down, and step all over him is the one woman who should be on their side -- Jay’s sister, April. Instead, she’s waiting for Dean to fail big time. He’s determined to prove her wrong, but only time can do that, and he isn’t the most patient of men.
Worse, sometimes Dean fears that, despite his resolve, he’ll lose the only person who has ever made his heart race. Jay should have someone who can love him completely, and give him everything he needs both emotionally and physically. If Dean wants to keep Jay, he has to give himself up to a gay relationship completely, which includes his heart and some rather intimate parts of his body.
Jay has total faith in his lover and patience ... plenty of patience. Dean needs time and Jay knows April isn’t helping, and she’s about to piss him off one last time. It’s their parents’ ruby wedding anniversary and they’re about to spend the night in a lovely country hotel. Both men are in for a few surprises, not least of which is the four-poster bed Jay’s parents have arranged for them. First there’s the church blessing to get through, people to meet, the peace to keep, dinner to eat, and an unexpected declaration of love, and that’s without throwing the strawberry lube Jay adores into the mix.
There’s a reason Dean calls his lover Angel, but Jay’s thoughts are far from angelic. Can he stop his sister from interfering with his love life? And remember to ask if Dean packed the strawberry lube for the weekend?
“What’s wrong?” Dean frowned, pushing a little now against the hand Jay had laid against him. Jay pushed back.
Laughable. Not many could hold Dean at bay, would be able to stop him doing anything -- not with physical force, anyway. Dean held off, waiting because Jay wanted him to. Dean would never do anything he didn’t want. Dean would never hurt him ... and Jay was having a little fun now at the big man’s expense. The other man’s frustration became palpable. All that wonderful restraint trembled under Jay’s hand. The air he drew in filled Jay to the brim, as if he pulled in all that physical energy along with the man’s fragrance. Lust possessed a perfume. Desire darkened Dean’s eyes, made his muscles tense, but love ... love kept him at bay, waiting for Jay to move his hand away. He wanted to, but he wanted to bathe in the heat of Dean’s gaze, too.
“Just taking a moment to take it all in,” Jay rasped out, strangely asthmatic.
Blue eyes closed to slits, gaze examining, flicking around in the intimate space between them before Dean looked to Jay’s face, eye contact steady. Full lips crooked to one side, smile slow, building. His body relaxed a little under Jay’s touch. His expression turned soft. A particle of light from the bedside lamp struck one of Dean’s pupils, creating the vision of Jay’s reflection. Real, imagined, or illusion, it didn’t matter. The image fled, but left the impression of Jay on his back, shirt open, compliant ... and ready. His concerns he should set aside for another day, a more suitable time, and place.
Yes, now. Now, Dean could do what he wanted with him.
A final thought assaulted him -- procrastination wouldn’t solve anything -- before Dean popped the last of the buttons on Jay’s shirt and they followed the others already scattered. They were going to have to find them, in the sheets, or on the floor -- wherever they’d disappeared to -- or have some explaining to do to his mother.
One of Jay’s shoes lay off somewhere on the floor; the other dangled from his toes. The bulge at his crotch threatened to burst through the zip of his trousers. His nipples flushed an all too familiar shade of rosy pink. Hard to credit, but Jay swore his nipples were larger and darker since he’d started having sex with Dean. Must have something to do with the other man paying them so much attention. Maybe if he didn’t jiggle and shriek so, Dean would take pity on him. Couldn’t help his reaction, though -- Dean knew too well how to make him wriggle. Whom did he try to kid? Dean got off on making Jay flail around, and Jay got off having little choice.
At this point, they didn’t have much time for foreplay -- had to rise early, and despite his interest, Jay’s eyes were starting to sting and his lids to feel heavy. He blinked at Dean, trying to stave off his eyes watering. Lack of time might be a good thing if they were to have any chance of keeping quiet ... but Dean made an art of foreplay. Even when both men could barely wait, Dean didn’t know the meaning of ten seconds or ten minutes. Two weeks apart had to mean they were both going to need nothing more than a few strokes. The heated look in Dean’s eyes might make Jay explode, scorning him as it did, torching his lungs, making each inhalation combustible.
Two weeks apart -- the sex must be volatile. Always was, anyway. Impossible to grow used to being looked at that way. Those blue eyes flicked around now, Dean admiring him as if he were beautiful. While never shy about his features, Jay had never given his reflection much consideration until he witnessed this expression on Dean’s face many times over. Dean appeared to be a man drinking in all he saw.
Hell, the mere sight of him turned Dean on, the open admiration arousing Jay in a way surely narcissistic. The shame he should feel over such a reaction refused to materialise, Jay far too busy wondering if he might one day orgasm from Dean’s gaze alone.
“You’re trying my patience,” Dean muttered, pressing against Jay’s hand, making it clear that, although only a few seconds had passed since he scattered the last of Jay’s shirt buttons, he’d waited long enough.
Dean dropped on top of him, and Jay whimpered. Dear God, he whimpered!