Erik’s adolescent crush becomes a very adult relationship at his high school reunion.
Seeing his former bullies starstruck is definitely on Erik Stevens’ agenda for his high school reunion. Hooking up with someone is not. He has resolved to end the meaningless sex that has dotted his life, even though it fed his need to dominate. Now he is looking for a man—a submissive—for a relationship that will last forever.
But Erik hasn’t counted on Kyle.
For ten years, Kyle Lincke has cursed his repressed sexuality that, in high school, kept him from acting on his crush…Erik. As soon as he receives Erik’s RSVPed ‘yes’ to the reunion, Kyle begins working up the courage to finally act on his desires, difficult for him to do following a disastrous break-up.
But six weeks of exploration into BDSM and small steps toward a deeper relationship are thrown into jeopardy when Erik’s fame threatens their bond—and Kyle’s fragile psyche.
I am beyond words thrilled to share the first book in my Improbable Bonds series with you all! And I do mean share! I am going to post the first chapter here so you can meet my swoon worthy Erik and adorable Kyle. Yeah, seriously, this book has all the heart eyes from me. I am so in love with these boys I mega, super happy smile every time I read them.
I can’t wait to hear what you all think of these lovely fellas ❤
My expectations for a tacky ambiance at my tenth class reunion did not disappoint, and every ounce of my bitchy soul loved it. Sneaking into the back to avoid being spotted too soon served a double purpose. I could make snide mental comments about the décor, have a few extra moments of anonymity and scope out exactly where the assholes were gathered—the ones who’d made four years of high school in a small town as a skinny, gay loser that much more miserable.
Yeah, that was a group I was hoping to avoid, even though I was far from the same person I’d been then. Even if I had success after success linked to my name, I couldn’t shake the memories of being shoved against the wall, of being called every normal derogatory name and a few new ones they had so cleverly come up with.
I purposely walked slow around the periphery of the room, not wanting to miss a single detail. My interior designer would demand an in-depth description, after which she would require oxygen at the very least, perhaps full resuscitation.
The round tables covered with red cloths and accented with silverware wrapped in black napkins weren’t bad. Rather stylish, really. The red and black balloon arch? Certainly not something I’d see in LA, but reasonable. Fun, even.
But the cards? Holy fuck, the cards. Oversized playing cards arranged awkwardly were meant to be centerpieces…the Queen of Hearts, the King of Diamonds, the Jack of Spades. But they had nothing on the poster-board-sized card replicas stuck to the wall. Each one had the face of royalty replaced with one of my classmates.
The images were from their senior portraits, which were already a decade old and, in many cases, a far cry from their current reality, myself included. The pulse of the music from my adolescence reverberated in my skull when my gaze landed on my card in all of its acne-riddled, mousy, unstyled hair, Coke-bottle-glasses glory.
I slid my hands into the pockets of my rose-colored tux as I stared at the former me, the me I’d been before I’d landed a small part on a soap opera—the me before my co-star Katrina had taken me under her wing and helped me morph into the golden boy she’d somehow known was lurking beneath, the me before a starring television role, three subsequent blockbuster movies, an Oscar win and an Emmy nom. That bitch would be mine next year.
I crossed my legs in front of me and leaned against the wall, the coolness of the stone seeping through my jacket and shirt, kissing my skin. The Erik that I once had been had so consumed my concentration that a tap on my shoulder made me jump then slowly blink when I realized who it was.
What are the fucking chances?
“Hey, man, I’m sorry, but I don’t recognize you. And you don’t have a tag on…” The full lips I’d spent far too long dreaming about a decade before quirked into a half-smile and he stuck his hand out. “Kyle Lincke…with a beard now and a construction business to match the stereotype.”
As if I don’t know who he is. As if I hadn’t had many a shower turn ice cold as I stroked my cock, dreaming of his lips wrapped around it… As if I hadn’t spent the whole of my high school years both hoping he would pay some attention to me and skillfully avoiding his sphere, thanks to sheer intimidation… And as if I could ever forget the single fateful day our paths had crossed and he’d spared me a vicious encounter at the hands of almost half the football team…
“Erik Stevens, former loser, current actor.” My fame and still relatively newfound good looks had made me a little cocky—or a lot cocky. Even before the multiple laps I’d forced my driver to make around the building, I had intentionally been late and had snuck in. The notion of humming whispers when I’d eventually be noticed, followed by an eruption of applause, cheers and back claps from the assholes who used to torture me had lulled me to sleep every night this week.
The tightening of his fingers around mine and the realization dawning on his face were fucking priceless. It looked like my high school crush was going to be the first worshiper at the altar of Erik tonight. Reality was turning out better than my dreams.
His Adam’s apple bobbed several times, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “I was hoping…” He shook his head and licked his lips. Even in the dim light, his dark eyes were sparkling. “I never dreamed you’d actually come. I thought that ‘yes’ was a joke.”
A quip about ‘coming’ was on the tip of my tongue, but it and every other conscious thought were stolen as he dropped his mouth onto mine. He released my hand and quickly lowered his to my waist, gripping it tightly. He pressed me deeper into the wall and I was helpless to do anything to stop him.
As if I fucking would. Four years of pornographic fantasies were finally being fulfilled, even if it was a decade late. I trailed my fingers up his arms and across his shoulders, stopping only when they met and clung to the nape of his neck.
He groaned against my lips, rocking his hips against mine. I gasped at the first contact with his already-hard cock and dug my nails into his skin.
His thick but well-groomed facial hair created a delicious burn as he deepened the kiss. He moved his hands around behind me, cupping my ass and pulling me tighter against him. My dick screamed for release and my trendy, tapered slacks were now the most uncomfortable creation in the world.
If it had been anyone else, it would have been sexy. It would have been hot. It would have been sensual.
But this was Kyle Lincke. And he was damn near dry humping me in a dark corner of the gym at our ten-year high school reunion. This was the source of my dirtiest desires being played out in real life. It was a fucking miracle that I didn’t come in my pants right then.
Finally, and yet all too soon, he pulled away, panting heavily. His gaze searched mine before he closed his eyes. He dropped his head and a million thoughts assaulted me. Kyle Lincke, popular class president, everyone’s BFF and my one-time champion was now a mountain man who happened to like pretty boys from LA? My reality was rapidly becoming stranger than the fictional storylines I portrayed on the big and small screens.
A hollow chuckle escaped his swollen lips and he caressed my face with his hot, cinnamon-scented breath. “Shit, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’ve waited twelve years to be able to do that and I fucked it up in under five seconds.”
My brain was muddled, lost in the misty haze of lusty desire and the desperate need that Kyle had created in me. I shook my head, trying to find the words to argue. That was not just the kiss of my fantasies, that was the best damn one of my life.
He released me and stepped back. Every inch of my heated flesh cried out at the loss. I wanted the man naked and bent over the sink in the bathroom, not walking away.
He ran his hands over his ruddy face. “It, um… It was good of you to come back to visit, Erik. Don’t forget to pick up your name tag. They’ve been dying for the big star to stop by the welcome desk.”
With that, he turned and retreated through the heavy metal doors and I was left staring after him, wondering what the hell had just happened.