His Love Letters

Our Love Story 1

eXtasy Books

Heat Rating: Sizzling
Word Count: 4,660
3 Ratings (2.3)

Jordan has an inappropriate attraction to his best friend Lance, a crush which won’t ever come to light for fear of ruining their friendship. But that all changes the day Jordan finds Lance’s stash of hidden letters, letters confessing his feelings. Each one addressed to Jordan.

His Love Letters
3 Ratings (2.3)

His Love Letters

Our Love Story 1

eXtasy Books

Heat Rating: Sizzling
Word Count: 4,660
3 Ratings (2.3)
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Cover Art by Martine Jardin
Excerpt

On my phone, returning emails about the upcoming Pride event I was helping to throw in a week’s time at the Student’s Lounge, I try not to watch as Lance pulls his sweaty gym shirt off over his head. Worse, he wraps a towel around his waist and then, knowing he’s covered, lets his shorts drop to the floor.

Reclining on his bed, I have to cross my foot over my bent knee to cover my semi. Gaze glued to my phone, I wave him away. “Hurry up, or we’re going to be late.”

Lance is at university on a rugby scholarship, so he often hits the gym for extended hours, but on nights like tonight, when we’re due at a res party across campus in less than fifteen minutes, Lance’s need for physical exertion can be a real drag.

His tight grip turns his knuckles nearly the same shade as the white towel he’s holding. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather wait downstairs?”

Frowning, I quickly chance a glance at him. Big mistake. Looking very unsure of himself, one hand holding the towel in a death grip, the other he ran threw his hair, putting his very impressive bicep on display.

And... now, it’s a full-fledged erection.

Doing my best to hide my lust, my gaze lingers on his face before I casually drop it back to my phone. “Yeah, right, like I’m going to wait on those rocks downstairs.” I laugh but don’t risk looking at him again. “Man, you linger in the shower. So, no, thank you. I’ll wait right here.”

Lance hesitates, which pisses me off. He doesn’t want to leave me alone in his residence room.

We’d been friends since grade school, played together as kids; we even got suspended together once for throwing a rock through one of the first-floor windows at school. When I’d come out in high school, he’d been supportive, even attended a few LGBTQ meetings with me to help keep some of the jocks from bugging me. But now, suddenly, he’s uncomfortable with me being in his room. What the fuck?

His sudden resistance spikes my temper. Frustrated, I look at him and insist, “Dude, we’re going to be late if you don’t hurry up.”

“Right.” He still doesn’t move. “Don’t snoop, okay?”

My eyes widen. That was it? He’s hiding something he doesn’t want me to know about. “Fine. But hurry it up.”

He considers me for a long moment before nodding and heading to the bathroom.

After a comment like that, how could I not snoop?

Once I hear the shower start, I shift from my lazy position and peek my head out the door. None of his roommates seems to be home. All their doors are shut, and other than running water, the house is silent.

I set about uncovering his secret.

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