By Degrees...: August 2011

For Lutawolf and Nykita.

It is from the first draft, but they asked so nicely I had to share :-)

Chapter Three
May 15, 2009
New York City

The gods must have been smiling on Sam because, after brushing his teeth, dressing in a pair of jeans and a T-shirt and writing down a note for his mother in case she got up and went looking for him, it only took him forty minutes to make his way to Mac. At a club. He was picking him up as opposed to meeting him at his hotel room. Fucking unreal.

What had possessed him to make such an offer? This wasn't a damn date. It was... a sexual meeting. Yeah. And he'd speed all the way from Queens to Manhattan in order to make it there as soon as possible not because he was anxious to see this man, but because the sooner he took care of business, the sooner he could go back home.

Yeah... That was it…

He double parked a few feet away from the club's entrance, sent a message to Mac and instinctively scanned the street, something he'd been doing since his days with the police department. People would be surprised if they could see how many normal looking predators were lurking on the streets, and especially around this club. It was the place where some of the victims on the Leviticus case had last been seen.

But then the entrance door opened and all coherent thoughts escaped Sam. “Holy Mother of God...” he whispered once he was able to find his voice again. He rolled down his window and signaled with his truck's high beams until he was sure Tex had seen him. Then he leaned back on his seat and just watched him.

The guy was huge. He was wearing blue jeans that were tight in all the right places and a dark red shirt that brought out the whiter streaks on his golden blond hair and lightly tanned skin. It also showcased bulging, rippling biceps. His sensuous full mouth and straight nose softened the blunt angles of his face, and Sam could’ve sworn he was able to see Mac’s emerald green eyes sparkle under the street lights. He was fucking stunning and Sam was insanely turned on from just watching him walk.

Mac reached the truck and instead on getting in right away he stopped by the driver's side door and smiled. A low moan rumbled its way out of Sam's throat before he even realized it. He loved dimples, and Mac had them in spades.

“Damn,” the Adonis said. “You are hotter than I remembered.”
Sam felt his face heat up a little under Mac's scrutiny and words, and all of a sudden wished he had taken more time in his own appearance. But if his burning, hungry stare was any indication, the Texan wasn't put off by neither Sam’s disheveled state nor the fact that he hadn't even bothered to shave. Thank fuck.
“Get in.” Sam all but growled. He didn't take his eyes off the guy for a second. Once he was inside, he asked: “Where to?”

As soon as Tex gave him the name of a very trendy hotel in Chelsea, Sam rolled up his window and put his hand on the gear stick, and maybe because he was busy looking at the rearview mirror to make sure no other cars where coming, he never noticed Mac move until it was too late.

A gasp jumped from his throat. He snapped his head to the side and zeroed in on his own hand, which was now covered by the blond's slightly bigger one.

“Rough couple of days, huh?” Mac’s voice low; his thumb gently caressing Sam's obviously injured knuckles.
Sam cleared his throat and tried to pull his hand back, but seemed to be frozen in place by Mac's voice and touch. “You could say that.”
“Then let's hope I can make it a little better for you, darlin’.”

Nodding, he took a deep breath when Mac removed his hand and settled on the passenger seat, leaving a tingling sensation behind and Sam feeling completely off balance. He wanted to tell the big guy nobody ever touched him without his explicit permission... then he wanted to tell him to bring that hand back, but wrap it around his cock this time.

He wanted to tell him he had no use for words of endearment, even if his sexy as fuck accent made them sound prettier. He wanted to tell him to get the hell out of his damn truck. But he didn't.

God damn it, what was the matter with him? Why was he overlooking actions that would be deal breakers with any other potential lay? Was it because the guy was going back home the next day and there was no chance of Sam running into him again? Or was it because Sam wanted him so damn much he couldn't see straight anymore? Whatever the reason, it didn't stop him from pulling his SUV out of the parking spot and driving them to Mac's hotel.

They didn't say a thing during the short trip and that was fine. Sam had never been one for small talk and he was not interested in getting to know his sexual partners or have them know anything about him. He had no problems sharing his body – to an extent – but his thoughts and feelings – if he happened to have any – were off limits.

He took a deep breath, feeling a little dizzy when Mac's clean; spicy scent hit his nostrils and filled his lungs. Christ. Whatever that cologne was, it had the same effect on Sam as pheromones would, which was odd and annoying, as he was usually indifferent to such things.

The anticipation permeating the interior of his truck was damn tangible and the not so subtle way in which Mac kept glancing at his mouth, hands and crotch with those intense cat eyes of his had Sam on the brink of combustion. It was madness, and all of a sudden he felt it was imperative that he took care of business fast and got the heck away from the gorgeous blond as soon as he could manage.

After finding a parking spot they strode through the hotel lobby, always keeping a safe distance between them. Once inside the elevator they both leaned against the far wall and allowed for their shoulders to touch. Mac's desire for him was obvious in his labored breathing, his clenched jaw, the tension on his insanely broad shoulders and the wild pulse on his thick neck. Sam could not remember anyone wanting him so badly before… or him reciprocating.

By the time they reached the fifth floor the sexual tension was off the charts. There was no disguising the primal, unadulterated lust that had grabbed them both literally by the balls.

“I'm all the way down the hall.”

Mac pointed to their right and Sam considered getting back in the elevator and going home. Because the sight of that muscular, tanned and lightly dusted with blond hairs arm almost made Sam drool, he was afraid to find out what kind of reaction he was going to have once he got to see the man naked… or his cock...

Lord, yes!

And just like that he turned and headed in the direction Mac indicated, not waiting for him. He couldn't face the man. Not when he was having such a hard time pretending he wasn't anxious and completely out of his comfort zone.

“We’re here,” Mac said. “515...”

Sam stopped and waited for Mac to scan his card key, but bristled a little when the blond pushed the door and held it open for him. What the fuck? Was he a woman now? “Thanks,” he muttered, walking into the room. He may not appreciate being treated like... well, like that, but his mother had taught him manners and to say thank you no matter what.

* * *

“Don't mention it.” Mac closed the door and leaned against it, discreetly adjusting himself while watching Sexy Super Agent look around his black and white, Asian influenced hotel room.
Other than the very inviting, very comfortable king size bed, there was nothing special enough to justify his rapt interest... which meant the guy was avoiding direct eye contact. He hadn't even taken more than five steps inside the room, which was the reason why Mac wasn't moving away from the door just yet. The guy looked like he might change his mind about getting down and dirty, and Mac didn't want to make it too easy for him to leave. “Can I get you somethin' to drink?”

He was feeling ten different kinds of nervous but he kept his voice low and relaxed, instinctively knowing anything could blow his chance with the sexy Yankee to blueballs hell. He didn't want to spook him any more than he already was. This guy was a stranger and Mac didn't have a damn clue as to what made him tick, but he knew something had gone terribly wrong since their brief encounter at the airport. He looked breathtakingly gorgeous, but a far cry from the confident, seductive, aggressive wolf he'd been then.

Tonight his jet black hair was standing on ends, as if he'd been pulling it for hours, and his bright blue eyes were surrounded by dark circles. He looked tired and worried, and at some point he'd been in the winning end of a physical altercation, judging by his bruised hand and untouched face.

Still, he'd returned his phone call. He'd come to see him and wasn't trying to hide how much he wanted Mac. His mind wasn't entirely on what they were about to do, but his body was one hundred percent engaged. Had Sexy Super Agent been able to remove his dick from the equation, Mac knew he would have taken off and the reason why he seemed to be a little uncomfortable even though he'd suggested this hook up would had forever remain a mystery.

“No, I'm cool.”
“What?” Mac asked, totally confused.
“Don't need anything to drink,” he said, still not moving and still not turning around to face Mac... but still in the room. Waiting for Mac to make the first move maybe?
“Right.” Mac felt like an idiot for losing track of their conversation. He debated with himself for a few seconds, trying to decide what to do next. He hadn't seduced a guy in... Okay; he'd never seduced a guy before, and he was relieved that this blue eyed god didn't need any seducin'... but he could definitely use some relaxin'.

After years of unsuccessfully trying to understand the how's and why's of everything that had had a significant impact in his life, Mac wasn't a big fan of analyzing other people's motives and emotions anymore, so there was no chance in hell he was going to ask the dude what the deal was. But he wanted to make him feel good for a little while; help him enjoy himself. Now that was something Mac had no problems with.

Because he was such a big guy he'd learned early on to counterbalance his intimidating physique with his laidback, everything will be fine attitude. He knew how to break the ice and how to make folks feel at ease around him. Problem was he usually wasn't this fucking horny for any of them. What if his eagerness messed things up? God. He needed to calm down. How was he supposed to get the Yank to loosen up a bit when he was a bundle of nerves himself?

Before he could second guess his actions, Mac took a deep breath and stepped up behind the sexy man, getting close enough to be able to soak in the heat and intensity radiating from him. They were not touching yet, but Mac felt something that could rival an electric shock zap between them. He lowered his head a little and breathed in. There was a hint of soap and minty tooth paste, but no traces of cologne. That intoxicating woody and fresh scent that had assaulted his senses the moment he got in the sex god's SUV was all natural man.

He let his fingers slide down from the guy's powerful shoulder to his hand and nuzzled his stubbly cheek and jaw; totally fascinated by the goose bumps he seemed to be giving him. Mac brushed his fingertips over both the Yank's hands, the delicate inside of his wrists where his pulse was beating at some crazy staccato and finally scratched his palms a little with his nails.

“You've great hands,” Mac whispered against a perfectly formed earlobe. “Can't wait to feel 'em on my ass...” He nuzzled his neck this time. “And my cock.”

Sexy Super Agent moaned and tried to get away, but Mac stopped him by licking the side of his neck all the way up to his earlobe. The guy froze up. He didn't breath and he didn't move.
Mac didn’t need to be told he’d crossed a line. He could see his potential lover was one of those guys that didn’t go for kissing as a precursor to sex and preferred to keep hands and mouth below the waist. There was something about him that said “keep your goddamn distance”. He’d just probably wanted in and off; the sooner the better.

But Mac wanted more than that. He wanted it so much he was willing to risk a jab to the face for a small chance to outflank at least some of his reservations. So he lifted the sexy guy’s injured hand to his own face and slowly captured the middle finger in his mouth, sucking on it once, twice, without hesitation, before pulling it out and going back to alternately licking and nibbling his neck, earlobe and strong jaw line… smiling when he felt the solid weight of his Yankee's shoulders lean against his chest; ass against his groin. Being almost as tall as Mac, they fit together perfectly.

“You know...”
“What?” The guy swallowed so hard Mac was able to hear him. “What's wrong?”
“Nothin'...” Mac nuzzled his cheek again, getting as close to his mouth as possible without actually kissing him. “Just that I can't keep referrin' to you in my head as “Sexy Super Agent”, even though it describes you so well...”

* * *

Sam's own chuckle startled and surprised the hell out of him, even more so when he found himself silently laughing, his head thrown back against one of Mac's amazing shoulders. This guy was too cute for words. And where the fuck did that come from?

The thought sobered him up, but not as much as the feel of Mac's erection against his denim clad ass did, right where his crack was. How the hell had he let his guard down enough to allow another man to put him in such a vulnerable position? He was supposed to be the one behind Mac. He didn't get held or caressed. He was top fucking dog. So what the hell was he thinking, letting Mac crowd him like that? Next he'd be on his knees, ass up in the air, offering to bottom for the guy. Christ.

“So tell me, darlin'.” Mac's husky whisper snapped him out of his thoughts. “What's your name?” he asked, right before trapping his middle finger again and sucking it off in a way he felt all the way to his cock and made his knees shake.

Sam squeezed his eyes closed and bit the inside of his cheek with brutal force until he was sure no embarrassing needy groans would escape him. Had he ever been so damned turned on? He couldn't remember. More importantly, he couldn't deal with it. He had to get a hold of himself and put things back on familiar ground.

He moved a few steps away, pulling his finger free in the process. He was sure that if he gained some personal space, his heartbeat would slow down and he'd be able to breathe normally again. But it didn’t work. He still was breathing like a race horse and he was so hard it hurt. There was no talking his dick down. Shit.

Sam swallowed one more time and turned around to face the man that was making him feel so out of control, taking in Mac's green eyes, closed to half-mast, his reddened cheekbones, tense shoulders, bobbing Adam's apple and tightly fisted hands. He wasn't trying to hide how much he wanted Sam, but wasn't moving either, as if he understood his need to collect himself. That didn't make him feel any better. Since when was he so easy to read?

Before he could start freaking out over the fact, Mac reached down and fondled the length of his own straining cock through his jeans. Son of a bitch. Sam's mouth fell open at the erotic sight. He wanted it. He wanted to see Mac's cock and he wanted to taste it. He wanted it so much he almost dropped to his knees in front of the guy.

“It's Samuel,” he blurted out. “My name. Sam.”
“Pleasure to-”
“Believe me when I tell you,” Sam interrupted the guy. He was so done talking, “it will be.” A second later he had the Texan pinned against the door, his sinfully full lower lip captured between his teeth.

* * *

This is part of a message I sent to my crit group today, but want to share it with the rest of you as well...

One year ago (well, a year plus a few days, as it was exactly one month after my Dad passed on July 7th, 2010) I sat down and wrote the first full chapter of Six Degrees of Lust. As many of you know, it was never my dream to be a writer, but I had this idea that, once outlined, looked pretty darn cool and me being me, I had to see it to completion. Plus I figured it'd be therapeutic; something to keep me from losing it at the time, because absolutely nothing was going right in my life.

I wouldn't say I am good at everything I do, because that would make me kind of delusional, but I am pretty confident in my abilities. I wasn't confident about writing in the slightest, though, so of course I had to succeed at it. That's how I'm built. I'm my worst critic. I compete against myself. I have to finish anything I start, and I have to do it in a way that's satisfactory to my own standards. So I finished Six Degrees of Lust, and even though I never wanted to be a published author, I found that I had to become one, because that's the next natural step. I'm like a mouse some times... Well, most of the time. If you give me cookies, I'm going to want milk. Submitting my manuscript to a press was something I had to do. But first I had to put my work out there.

Some people loved it; some others shredded it to pieces, and some of you here gave some excellent advice. I went from being happy to crying my eyeballs out to feeling frustrated because, you see, I don't fail. That's unacceptable to me. Those 120k words represented time away from my kids and friends and no way was it going to be in vain. Then again, like I said before, I hadn't been taking baby steps towards this moment from the time I could hold a pencil straight, so perhaps I was being a bit delusional after all. But I believed in what I as writing about and I have to say that, four chapters into the thing, I was a convert. I wanted to write for the rest of my life. I think I was a late bloomer, after all.

I was getting ready to do some serious revising when the opportunity to submit SDoL presented itself back in May. I jumped in, feet first. Sent the thing out as it was, and you all know the outcome: contract for the entire series at first try. A part of me couldn't believe it, while the other was like yeah, this is great. I wrote my hiney off, and this is how it's supposed to be.

From the moment SDoL was contracted two months ago I've had several Squee moments. Getting the contract, getting an invite to a loop where I got to talk to authors I've been reading, admiring and looking up to in some cases for years, realizing that, although nowhere near their league, I'm one of them now... the editing process, getting mock ups for my very first cover... everything both cemented my new status as an author and made it feel surreal at the same time. And I struggled with it all. I was afraid it was a fluke; that I'd never be able to write anything better than SDoL.

Then I wrote Heatstroke.

And today not only am I getting ready to attend my very first conference as an author, but I'm being included in a signing and reading event with my pub that I have no business being a part of. At least not for another five years and several successful books under my name. Still, it's coming and I can't wait.

Today I have no doubts whatsoever that I can do this. I have found my voice and am confident in what I can do. And others think I can do it too. My kids, my friends, readers and even publishers. They trust my talent so much I'm writing on proposal for one of them. And I feel blessed.

Monday, August 29, 2011

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Friday, August 26, 2011

Visual Inspiration Friday

Tuesday, August 23, 2011

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Inspirational

Monday, August 22, 2011

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Sunday, August 21, 2011

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Tuesday, August 16, 2011

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Friday, August 12, 2011

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Wednesday, August 10, 2011

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It's all coming together...

Monday, August 8, 2011

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Monday, August 1, 2011

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