By day they had been fierce rivals in a collegiate golf competition, but at night, their passion sizzled under the sheets.
After Team USA won, Rio "River" Vargas returned to his native Spain and Greg Thorenson headed back to his home in the United States. But when Rio didn't respond to a letter he sent, Greg wasn't sure if Rio's silence was because Greg had beaten him for the win or because their affair had been only a four-night fling.
Now professionals at the height of their game, they meet again as competitors in a major tournament in the California desert, where the prize of thousands of dollars is at stake. It's been six silent years since those wild, hot nights as young men. Maybe for Rio that earlier passion had been an experiment, an aberration of who he really is and of whatever Greg may have meant to him. But to Greg, that earlier passion had been something deeper ... he had fallen in love.
Greg watched strong fingers uncork the wine bottle with practiced skill and decant the dark-ruby, almost purple liquid into a glass without disturbing any sediment there might be. He handed the glass to Greg, who swirled the wine and sniffed its bouquet before tasting it. "Hmm. I think the vintner who sold me this was right. What do you think?" He offered him the goblet.
River accepted the glass and repeated the ritual.
When he drank, Greg noticed he placed his mouth where Greg's had been, and he watched the dark wine touch lips meant for kissing.
"Perfecto." Rio handed back the glass and poured one for himself.
Greg lifted his drink. "Salud."
"Salud."
Greg started to bring his glass to his mouth, but River interrupted him by putting his arm through Greg's so they would drink with their arms entwined. As they sipped, their gazes met like a bride and groom at a wedding reception. The gesture and the image set Greg's blood swimming. When River set his glass on the counter, Greg put his beside it and stepped toward him.
The kiss was inevitable. Greg just hadn't known how soon it would happen. He'd thought sometime after dinner, but now he wasn't going to wait any longer to act on his longing to be with this man. Time was too short and not to be wasted any longer. Who knew how long they would be together this time?
River didn't back away. He leaned in. Their lips met, pressed and slid, sharing the full-bodied taste of the wine. Greg didn't know which of them had opened his mouth first, but soon their tongues had invaded to explore and delight in the warm moisture inside. The intensity of the kiss heightened into deep pressure and a frantic tangling of their tongues.
"Take off your shirt," Greg murmured against lips puffy from their kisses.
A trembling River yanked his shirt up and over his head. He reached for Greg's and almost ripped it off.
Greg wrapped his arms around River's neck, and River slid his around Greg's waist and pulled him close. Greg inhaled his masculine scent and paused to enjoy the tingling that began where their nipples touched, but the soft brush of fine dark hairs across his chest sent flaring, churning need through to his core. "I want to touch you so badly I can taste it. I don't want to share you tonight. I want you all to myself." Greg rubbed his swollen cock against River's and heard a responsive groan from deep in the man's throat.
"Then touch me." River took Greg's hand and wedged it inside the front of his workout pants until Greg reached the warm, silken skin of his cock and closed his hand around it. He felt the tie on his shorts loosen and the slow slide of those and his briefs over his hips and thighs. Releasing River and breaking the kiss, he stepped out of his thongs, pants, and skivies.
River stood with his eyes closed as Greg tugged River's pants and boxer briefs all the way down and off his bare feet. Greg looked at the solid, magnificent man before him ...
With a groan, River reached for him.
