Loose Id Publishing
Contemporary MM
Available at Amazon / Publisher
Detective Douglas Brody
has only ever known the life of a cop. Raised strict but fair by his
police chief father, he joined the academy right out of school, climbed
the ranks hard and fast, and now works homicide for the City of
Charleston. The job is his entire life. For years it’s kept him happy
enough to minimize the side of him that craves what he believes is
wrong. When an accident on the job puts him temporarily off duty,
everything in Brody’s world changes. He has to prove himself once more
to be best cop in the department, all while dealing with Zack – his
persistent, sexy, and out of the closet physical therapist.
Zack
is big grins, floppy hair and tackles his job with the same full-blown
enthusiasm he does everything else. When the “patient from hell” is
thrown his way by another PT who can’t handle him, Zack is committed to
achieving the impossible. His new patient is a head strong and hot as
hell homicide detective, who oozes as much resentment as he does sex
appeal. Any involvement with a patient, never mind a man who is so deep
in the closet he can’t see light, is something Zack swore he’d never do
again.
But Brody slowly proves too much to resist…
Teaser Excerpt:
He could work out a
resting heart rate from this, listening to the strong thumps, quickly
glancing down at his watch. Decent. Resting below sixty. Brody was fit. A
lot more fit than he gave himself credit for. The muscles in his chest
were defined, and that didn’t come from police work. He had to work out
regularly.
The
meat of Zack’s hand rested on his broad chest, fingers moving on the
swell of his pectorals as they rose and fell with each breath. The stir
in his shorts brought him back front and center to the fact that this
wasn’t the best idea. Leaning over his very attractive and touch-phobic
patient. Even if all he intended to do was see if the man could lighten
up. Maybe even laugh.
He
wasn’t laughing now. When Zack lifted his eyes to Brody’s, he was hit
with the full intensity of stormy gray. Not filled with amusement
anymore but with something else.
It
sent heat down Zack’s spine and into his shoes. He wasn’t even
listening to the beats, just frozen in place with the buds in his ears,
fingers still pressed to Brody’s chest as they stared at each other. The
humor of the moment fell away as Brody continued to stare, arms still
folded behind his head, mouth set into a straight line.
Zack straightened a tad too sharply and tucked the
scope around his neck. Pulling his face into a rehearsed, easy smile, he
hid the heat thrumming in his veins. “Yeah. You’ll live.” He started
backing toward the door and gave a lame salute that made him want to
cringe. God he was such a spaz. “I…I’ll see you next week.”
He rushed to exit stage left, narrowly missing the doorframe on the way out.
~*~
Zack
could be downright pushy when he went into healthcare-professional
mode. Brody wasn’t used to being told what to do. The small voice inside
him that rejoiced in response was the one he hated most. He clenched
his eyes shut and relaxed his leg.
“Good,” Zack said, his voice low as he focused.
He
scooted himself up, knelt down, and hooked Brody’s knee over his arm,
placing one hand at the back of his thigh, the other on the front. Brody
tensed everywhere. He didn’t mean to, he probably shouldn’t, but he
couldn’t help it.
“Relax.
Hey,” Zack said and didn’t say another word until Brody opened his eyes
and met Zack’s gaze. “Relax. The cramp comes right back if you’re
tense. Trust me.”
Brody
nodded again because it was all he could manage. It wasn’t that he
didn’t trust Zack. Oddly enough, he did. But he didn’t trust himself. He
didn’t like being in someone else’s hands—yet he did. He wasn’t
comfortable with the vulnerability, but he was. And the position he was
in was more than a tad suggestive. Except, of course, to someone like
Zack. Zack, who only saw physiology, muscles, and ice packs. Cramps
instead of sexual tension. Charlie horses instead of thighs.
“Good,” Zack repeated as Brody relaxed.
Brody
focused on the trees to his left and tried not to think about the man
between his legs or the hands all over him. It made him wonder about the
next time he could get out of town.
“Is this helping?” Zack asked.
“Huh? Oh…yeah. Thanks,” Brody answered without looking at him.
Zack didn’t say anything. Didn’t move. Didn’t seem to breathe.
Brody knew it was his way of making Brody either
talk or look at him or pay attention. Drove him fucking nuts, but it
worked. Brody turned his head to glare at Zack like a pissed-off
delinquent, but when his eyes found Zack, Zack wasn’t looking back.
Zack’s
gaze was somewhere below Brody’s waist, dragging along one thigh, then
the other. His attention lingered there, and Brody felt it all the way
through his skin. It wasn’t professional Zack checking out his alignment
either. Far from.
Something
different, something hungry flashed in the deep brown of Zack’s eyes.
Brody felt a lick of pure heat drag up his spine and back down. Straight
to his groin. He didn’t know what he did to make Zack meet his eyes. He
didn’t flinch or gasp or do anything besides remain frozen in place.
Still, Zack looked at him, his eyes weaving a tale that had nothing to
do with physical therapy.
Grasping
fingers, slick skin, entwined bodies, and the kind of intensity that
hurt so good you’d want it again and again. It sparked between them and
hung in the air, thicker than the midsummer humidity. Brody recognized
the same lust that continued to torture him right there in Zack’s eyes.
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About the Author
Sam B. Morgan writes contemporary gay romance with complex, complicated
men. A love of travel means settings from small town South Carolina to
Sydney, Australia serve not only as backdrops, but supporting characters
in each and every book. Sam enjoys fast cars, slow Sunday mornings,
hot coffee, and even hotter heroes.
Tour Giveaway Information: Enter to win a $25 GC to Amazon
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