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Clare London - Writing... Man to Man
MLR Press
All Romance Ebooks
Category:
Gay/Lesbian/Bi
Publisher: MLR Press
Type: Fiction
Pages: 200
Copyright: April 2009
ISBN-13: 9781608200047
Freeman's return to the city is quiet, without fuss -- the way he likes things. But, he's missed by more people than he thought: his ex-wife, his ex-lover, and his ex-business partner. One wants friendship, another one intimacy. The third just wants him the hell gone again.
Freeman -- private, controlled -- hasn't time or appetite for trouble. But, when he strikes up an unusual, ill-advised friendship with young, lively, amoral Kit, it seems trouble's come looking for both men, ready to expose secrets that can destroy the fragile trust they've built. Freeman's more ready for the challenge than anyone realizes when the choice comes down to peace or Kit's life.
This title contain ADULT scenes of male/male romance and erotica.
Excerpt
I listened carefully for any undertone in his words, knowing I’d get no more explanation if I pushed him now. He sounded honest; he sounded bitter. Whoever and whatever other people might think he was, Kit himself thought he was no-one special. I lifted my hand off his and stepped back. Reluctance tugged at me like something sticky. I looked over to my coat, hanging on the back of the couch.
“You’re going out?” Kit followed my gaze and frowned. Maybe he was still nervous; maybe suspicious of me.
I nodded. “I’ve got work to do today.”
He let out a short breath, like he’d been holding it. He looked restless again. “I thought… you might be… you know. Going back there.”
“Work,” I repeated, calmly. “Just work.”
Kit smiled, brightly. “I’ll come with you. Help you out with…” For a second he looked sheepish. “…your work. Whatever.”
“No, you won’t,” I said. “You need to rest. I’ll give you my mobile number and you’ll be safe enough here until I get back.” I regretted using the word ‘safe’ even as it escaped my mouth – and the implication that he might not be - but he didn’t seem to notice.
“I can stay?”
“Yes, of course.” The pleasure in his face lit up his eyes and broadened his smile. I walked over to the couch and pulled on my coat.
“Freeman?” I turned back to face him. He’d moved behind a chair, as if he needed distance between us. Protection. “The parties. With George. It’s over.”
“Over?”
He bit his lip as I’d so often seen him do. “After… well, last time you were in the club. After that party, I told him I didn’t want to be around anymore." He rushed on, maybe afraid that I’d say something provocative about George. “He didn’t seem bothered, actually. Just sent me off to work as usual.” He shook his head gently: a different kind of confusion. “Don't know why he didn't ask me to return the keys to my room right then. But he let me stay on, regardless."
I let out my breath, quietly. I was imagining his conversation with George, delivering his terms. His simple, bold bravery.
“I want to clean up my act, Freeman.” He sounded belligerent but his eyes pleaded with me to understand. “Want to start again.”
I nodded. “That’s good. Good for you.”
He moved out from behind the chair and started to close the distance between us again. “Not doing it just for me. I’m doing it for you, too.”
For me?
“Freeman, I don’t just want to be here, I want to be here with you.”
I think I was shaking my head, though I wasn’t moving out of his path. “It’s your decision what you do with your life, Kit.”
He laughed, still walking across the room, only a couple of feet from the couch by now. His slim body swayed with easy, graceful movements. “Yeah, seems like that’s your style. Don’t tell a person what to do, but when you don't approve, your face looks like you swallowed a wasp and won’t tell anyone it stings like hell.”
I laughed aloud, then.
He seemed pleased. “That’s true, right?”
“Yes, maybe,” I agreed.
“I know it’s my life, my decision.” We were laughing together as he came close enough to put an arm out to me. “Hell, if I wanted to, I could have a different man every one of the twelve days of Christmas, right?” I was still laughing when he slipped both arms back around my waist and pressed his belly against mine. He looked up into my face. “But none of them would be you, Freeman. I want you.”
I was silent – the laughter dried in my throat. I looked down into his face and all I could see were those dark, wide eyes. His expression was an equal mix of terror and determination. He looked like the fragile Kit I’d seen in the club on the first night I met him – like the aggressive Kit who’d argue with me whenever he felt like it – like the surprisingly mature Kit who’d grin at me without prompt and talk to me without pretension or suspicion. They were all there, challenging me. I could hear his soft panting breath – I could smell him, smell the body wash from his shower and the freshness of my clean linen and every small, warm, human, bodily pulse that I’d come to recognise from him.
He lifted his chin with both defiance and nervousness. “I don’t know how to get you, Freeman. Don’t laugh at me. Don’t get mad. I think you want me too, but you won’t make a move. I just don’t know what to do.” He flushed, and then before I could answer him, he leant up and forwards, and with a slow, hushed inevitability he kissed me.
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