What is Halloween about if not, the costumes that people wear? In, The Closer I Get, my upcoming release, co-authored with LL Dahlin, the two characters spend their lives pretending to be something they’re not. Brayden pretends to be a playboy, who struts the runway in the hottest clothes, and Croix presents himself as the perfect straight son to keep the peace in his world, which is rapidly falling apart.
The two are unlikely friends, but even beneath their masks, they can’t hide from the emotions that are drawing them together, in spite of those who seek to rip them apart.Below is an excerpt from their story to tease the senses before you hop onto the next fun blog… (http://www.thesnarkology.com/snarkology-halloween-hop-oct-26-31st/) That is no doubt filled with more treats.
Make sure to leave a comment about your favorite Halloween candy (with your email address), for a chance to win a 10 dollar Amazon gift card before you leave! Also, enter the Hopwide Giveaway for a chance to win one of several gift cards. Winners will be chosen on Nov. 1st by clicking the link below:
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“Haven’t you ever wondered what it would be like to be with a man? To be with me?”
Croix jerked back, his eyes wide with shock, but what surprised Brayden was the desire in their depths. “I’m not having this conversation with you right now.” Croix opened the door.
“Why not?” Brayden’s alcohol induced haze pushed him to the brink of bravery and right into the well of insanity. The questions and cravings he’d had for his friend for so long rose to the surface.
“You’re drunk,” Croix muttered, shoving him into the car.
“Not so drunk I don’t know what I want,” Brayden admitted for the first time out loud. Later he could blame the alcohol, but right now, in this moment, it was surreal. Croix actually looked at him with fire in his eyes; there was lust there, or Brayden was delusional. He closed his eye, murmuring, “Not that it will ever happen.”
The door slammed, and the other opened, followed by another loud bang. He could swear he could feel Croix’s warmth across the console seeping into his skin. The scent of leather and Croix’s spicy, musky cologne filled the small space.
Could a man die from blue balls?
He dug his fingers into his thighs to keep from reaching for Croix.
He’d never considered himself one for torture, but this seemed pretty damn close. They couldn’t get back to his apartment fast enough. This was not how he’d seen his night going—mindless sex with a stranger after getting drunk enough that he could forget for just a second that the man he loved would never be in love with him. That was how it was supposed to go.
But no, he was in the car with said man, not nearly drunk enough and now he’d be having sex with himself.
God, my life sucks.
The dead silence wasn’t promising for his friendship either. The purring of the engine stopped, and Brayden breathed a sigh of relief; he could go lick his wounds in private now. With porn and lube.
Opening his eyes, he saw Croix’s apartment building, not his. “What are we doing here?” Brayden looked at Croix, whose brow was furrowed.
Croix nibbled his bottom lip and replied in a husky voice. “You came out tonight for a reason.”
“Yes,” Brayden whispered, afraid to burst whatever fantasy bubble he’d entered, because unlike before, Croix was sober. “What about it?”
Croix leaned closer, his hand covered Brayden’s thigh, warm and firm. “I can fulfill it. At least…” Croix ducked his head, a flush rising up his cheekbones. “I can try.”