Wilson Nebrusky is not where he thought he would be at this point in his life. He’s nearing forty, his store is struggling, and his marriage to Shandell is in shambles. His one pride and joy is his seven-year-old daughter, Kendra.
While Wilson has always accepted his bisexuality, he’d never been tempted to step out on his wife. When he can’t get an encounter with a hot, green-eyed stranger at a bar out of his mind, he finds himself tempted. Good thing he doesn’t know the guy’s name or his whereabouts.
That all changes when the man—Brennan MacDougal—limps into his shop.
Brennan is friendly and kind, and he’s honest about his interest in Wilson. He also says he won’t share Wilson, and as much as he wants to, he won’t touch him while he’s with Shandell. If Wilson wants a future with Brennan, who he is quickly coming to think of as his soul mate, he has a hard road ahead.
How can Wilson disentangle himself from his controlling wife, her demanding family, save his business, and still keep his daughter in his life?
Upon hearing the husky tenor, Wilson Nebrusky felt his body flush with heat. He froze where he stood at the bar. While Wilson desperately wanted to turn and see who that sexy voice belonged to, he didn’t want to draw attention to himself.
Wilson felt a touch on his upper arm, causing him to jerk in surprise. He saw a black-haired man lifting his hand from where he’d touched him. The guy sported a roguish grin, and his dark-green eyes twinkled.
“Hi,” the man greeted, showing off straight white teeth. “Didn’t mean to startle you. Can I buy ye a drink?”
Getting caught up listening to the stranger’s slight Irish accent, it took Wilson a second to realize the man had stopped talking. He stared at the hopeful expression on the guy’s face.
What did he say?
Wilson mentally winced at the squeak in his voice. He cleared his throat. God, it was so tempting to accept. As flattering as that idea was, however, Wilson couldn’t imagine that a handsome, fit-looking young man like this guy would actually be interested in him.
A quick sweep over the stranger’s form confirmed Wilson’s doubts. The guy couldn’t have been more than twenty-five. He stood a couple of inches taller than Wilson’s own five-foot-ten. His clingy polo shirt accentuated the fact that he sported a six-pack, and his dark jeans displayed his trim waist and well-muscled limbs damn near to perfection. The man was obviously in great shape and active.
Wilson, however, was a slightly overweight shopkeeper nearing his fortieth birthday, whose only physical exertion was lifting boxes of merchandise. Not that some of them weren’t heavy, but it certainly wasn’t enough to work off the fat around his belly from eating too many crappy fast-food meals. They were just so easy, and he had so little time.
“A drink?” the man pressed, cocking his head as he once again touched Wilson, on his wrist that time, and it caused the hairs on his forearm to stand on end. “We can go sit over there and talk a bit?” He indicated a booth near the back.
“Why me?” Wilson blurted out. “I mean—”
The stranger tightened his grip on Wilson’s wrist and drew him closer. He used the move to cause Wilson to place his hand on his chest, allowing him to feel the firm pectorals underneath the shirt. At the same time, the man wrapped his other arm around Wilson’s waist, resting his palm near the base of his spine and teasing his fingertips along the knobs there.
“Because ye’re handsome and sexy, and I want to cuddle up in that booth and learn everything about you.” The guy’s tone lowered, taking on a husky, suggestive quality. “And I do mean everything.”
Then, right there in the bar area of the restaurant, the stranger dipped his head and kissed him. He sealed his mouth over Wilson’s, teasing lightly along his bottom lip with his tongue. Gasping with surprise at the bold move, Wilson parted his lips, and the stranger took advantage, thrusting into him.
The man’s masculine, slightly hoppy flavor burst across Wilson’s taste buds, telling him he’d been drinking a beer. He groaned softly and shuddered in his hold. Twisting his fingers in the guy’s soft polo shirt, Wilson pushed closer, wanting more.
Wilson’s blood fired in his veins and flooded south as the stranger answered by thrusting his tongue deep and plundering his mouth. The guy tightened his hold on his back, urging his hips flush against him. He trembled in the man’s hold upon feeling an equally hard ridge of flesh press against his aching erection, and everything around him simply fell away as he gave himself over to the guy’s plundering.
On instinct, Wilson rocked, giving his throbbing cock the friction it desperately needed. He—
The sound of his alarm yanked Wilson out of the spine-tingling dream. Groaning under his breath, he half-rolled as he reached out an arm and found the off button, silencing the offending noise. When he finished the move and flopped onto his stomach, Wilson bit back a moan.
His aching erection twitched where it jutted from his groin—hard, swollen, and sensitive. His balls tingled, and his gut roiled with his need. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and he pressed it into his pillow as he fought his desire to rut against the sheet beneath him.
Wilson knew that was not how the encounter in the bar had gone. He had not experienced the most mind-numbing kiss of his life. The other people in the restaurant hadn’t disappeared from his consciousness, and he hadn’t lost himself in the feel of the stranger’s arms and hands upon him.
Instead, the bartender had placed his beer on the bar before him…as well as a glass of white wine.
The move drew Wilson’s attention away from the handsome man. He furrowed his brows.
White wine? Oh! Oh, shit.
What the hell am I thinking?
Mentally smacking himself upside the head, Wilson pulled his head on straight.
“I’m really flattered,” Wilson stated softly as he placed some cash on the counter and picked up the drinks. “But I’m married.” He tipped his chin in the direction of where his family waited at their table. To Wilson’s surprise, the man actually appeared deeply disappointed, his brows furrowing and a hint of sadness filling his green eyes as he glanced between Wilson, the table, and back again. Hoping to alleviate the guy’s distress, Wilson added as he started past him, “Thank you, though. You made this middle-aged guy’s month.”
As Wilson returned to the table, he barely resisted the urge to glance over his shoulder. What he’d said to the guy was true. A young hottie hitting on him had been a wonderful boost to his ego, especially with everything else going on in his life.
“Who was that?” his wife, Shandell, asked, her tone somewhat accusatory as she narrowed her eyes. “He looked friendly.”