He looked down at Matt’s hand on his. He raised his eyes and his voice was practically a whisper. “I hoped by the end of the night that you wouldn’t be a stranger and that we certainly would meet again.” Given Time #giveaway #gayromance #LGBTQ @parr_books @evernightpub

 

Matt cradled the whisky glass in his hand for a few seconds. His heartbeat sped up as anticipation flooded him. The handsome man who’d sat alone and ate little fascinated him. Matt knew the guy stared without seeing for a while, and then the eye contact when he saw Matt, was electrifying. No one had ever looked at Matt that way. The sheer sexual hunger and loneliness in those pale eyes forced a shock of attraction to spark along his stomach muscles. There was no mistake. This handsome man was gay. Matt swished his drink around and the ice cubes clinked in the glass. Will he join me? Let him take the chance. It’s time I had someone in my life.

Matt forced himself to lean casually on the bar. He put down the glass. His hand shook. Fucking calm down. He might not come. He probably won’t. It was a bad idea to send a note. Who do I think I am, some movie character? Matt felt rather than saw his quarry approach. His mouth went dry. He suddenly wanted the beautiful Italian tiled floor to open up and let him fall into the hole where failed attempts at finding love littered the black chasm.

“I got your note. Thank you … for sending it … I asked for my coffee to be sent in. Would you like a cup of coffee … or another drink?”

Matt’s entire body reacted to the low, halting tones of the man’s voice. Relief and fear flooded him. He sent a silent request into the ether, which generally fed him premonitions. Don’t let me mess this up. He straightened and faced the man taking in every facet—pale green eyes, like the shallow water lapping at a tropical beach, the sort of handsome face that usually carried guys into a modeling career, and wavy dark hair that Matt itched to run his fingers through. His stomach clenched and a strange melting feeling gathered between his legs. Fucking hell, he’s amazing.

Matt tried a smile hoping it didn’t manifest as a grimace.

“Hi. Matt Loewe. Thanks for showing up.” What? Thanks for showing up, hell.

“Angel Starc, pleased to meet you.” The gorgeous man held out his hand.

Surprised by the Starc name, and how stupid he probably sounded, Matt hesitated to take the handshake, and then he grasped the cool strong hand. A moment of extreme connection made him widen his eyes at Angel. Matt’s ‘mysteriousness’ ignited and he felt as if he knew this man, or, ridiculous as it seemed to his common sense right then, that they belonged together.

Angel’s gaze locked with his and Matt saw the dark pupils expand over the sea-green eyes. Emotions ranged there, too, and Matt responded to the apparent attraction and kindness, trying to sound more in control.

“I mean, I hoped you’d meet me. Let me get you something to go with the coffee—cognac maybe?” He forced the tremor from his voice.

Angel took a deep breath. “Tell you what. I’ll order whisky and coffee for us both and you grab that table in the corner.”

Matt cast a glance toward the corner of the room. He turned his face to Angel Starc.

“Sure.” He left his glass on the bar, and attempted a saunter to the table for two, set up next to twin Kentia palms in huge terracotta pots. Still completely shaken by this turn of events, where not only had he encountered a guy he was intensely attracted to, the guy’s eyes reflected the emotion, Matt sat and loosened his tie. He’s Angel Starc, though. In this town, he has to be a relative of Rory Starc. Take it easy. He watched Angel talking with the bartender. His heart did a weird thump as Angel walked toward the table, gave him a smile like sunshine on a winter’s day, and sat opposite him.

A server strode to the table and placed glasses of whisky before them both.

“I asked for ice. It looked as if you’d taken ice in your other drink—odd shaped chips of it diluted the dregs. When I saw you in the restaurant I thought you were familiar, but we haven’t met before.”

Matt considered his words, trying to choose the right ones. “No, but I wonder if you saw me visit the house where Rory Starc lived, perhaps…”

Angel raised his hand. “Of course … you laid flowers at the gates. I, er, I did notice you. I was across the street in my car.” He gave a laugh, though there wasn’t much mirth in the sound, more like self-deprecation. “I sat there summoning the courage to go into my brother’s home.”

Consumed by a wish to comfort Angel, Matt rushed in. “I’m so sorry to hear about Rory. I honestly don’t know much about his family. I can’t remember reading about a brother. You must be devastated.”

Angel gazed into his eyes. “We were estranged, but yes, it’s hard. Thank you for the flowers. I, I…”

Instinctively, Matt reached out and placed his hand over Angel’s as it rested on the table.

“There’s nothing as good as talking to a stranger. You can let everything out knowing you probably will never meet again.” Hell, there I go again. When I want nothing other than to get to know him, I’m encouraging him to leave.

Angel looked down at Matt’s hand on his. He raised his eyes and his voice was practically a whisper. “I hoped by the end of the night that you wouldn’t be a stranger and that we certainly would meet again.”

Matt couldn’t breathe for a few seconds. Angel’s words drenched him in relief and hope.

“Yes … so do I. I’m sorry. I’m hopeless at this.” He smiled, genuinely grateful for Angel’s candor.

Angel grinned at him. “I’m not great at flirting. Let’s just tell the truth. I saw you. I think you’re hot as hell. I haven’t had a relationship of any kind for almost a year. I’m out of practice and feel guilty because I’m talking to a gorgeous guy and happiness is trickling through me when I’m here because my brother died, but I need this, to, to feel real. Does that make sense?”

The coffee order arrived and the server arranged the cups on the table.

Matt waited until they were alone again before he leaned forward.

“I understand. There’s just a chance we were meant to meet—not, not that your brother had to die for it to happen.” Hell, what’s wrong with me? “I came here to work with him—with Rory. I’m an artist, and he invited me to work on an installation with him. I flew in from Paris. I had no idea until I arrived that he’d died.” He tried to salvage the romance that was in what Angel had said to him. “I’m attracted to you, too.” Matt felt like an idiot.

Angel stared at him for a few seconds. “Wow, I was in the airport about to board a plane to Paris when I heard about Rory’s death on the news. Hell of a way to hear about it, but I drove here instead. That’s weird, huh? You believe in fate then? Sounds like it.”

Matt winced. “There’ve been a few incidents in my life that have me believing in something—not sure what.” Worry stopped him from saying more. He’d lost a lover before with this kind of revelation. Not that Angel was a lover, yet, but Matt silently admitted to wishing he could cut through all the preliminary talk and crush Angel to his body in a hug. When Matt let his need to be with a man free, it overwhelmed him. He unleashed it then in the hope that Angel would see it and respond. He longed for the feel of this man’s hard body pressing the full length of his own—longed for kisses and more. He’d made hash of the meeting after discovering who the gorgeous guy was, now he had to make up for it. He stared hopefully at Angel.

Matt’s emotions must have been written on his face.

Angel’s eyes filled with what Matt recognized as desire. “It’s been a long time since I had to drive down the need to grab a guy and kiss him. I’m taking a chance on telling you that’s what’s happening now, but I can’t seem to care. Events have torn my heart open. I don’t know how to be, except straightforward. I want you in my arms.”

Matt’s lower body tightened. His cock responded to Angel’s words, hardening and pressing up against his suit pants’ fastening. His balls zapped with sexual tension. He picked up the whisky and drained the glass. He basked in the aura of masculine energy that surrounded Angel. It had been long enough between orgasms with a guy for Matt to wonder if he’d lose his wad when Angel kissed him. “I want to be there.” He finally whispered.

Angel sipped at the whisky in his glass. He ran a hand over his forehead.

“How long?” Angel’s voice was gentle.

Matt’s thoughts tumbled. “How long?”

“Since you had a guy in your life.”

“Eighteen months, give or take a few days.”

Angel shook his head. “I don’t do ‘one-nighters’. If we connect tonight I’ll expect more, at the very least to see you again soon. You fill me with an emotion I thought I’d never feel. Is that okay?”

Acceptance brought a smile to Matt’s face. “It’s great. I’m close to desperate to hold you.” Happiness lifted his nerves.

“Sorry to be so intense. I just … I won’t be able to take being messed around.”

Concern flooded Matt. “I’m the same. I am…” He allowed himself the pleasure of tracing Angel’s face with his gaze, soaking up the beauty with a sigh. “You’re so, so … I can’t imagine why you’re alone—why someone hasn’t snapped you up.” Matt couldn’t find words that wouldn’t sound false. He gave Angel an encouraging smile. I hope this is the start of something good—something lasting.

Angel leaned forward. “You took the words out of my mouth. I’m amazed you’re single. Not many hot-as-hell guys are. My room or yours?”

The sudden invitation made Matt’s heart thump. Nervous again now, he went for the safety of his own territory. “Mine.”

Angel stood. “The drinks are on my bill. Lead the way.”

To his disgust, Matt’s hands shook as he walked from the bar and turned to take the wide stair to the next floor. He snatched his key from his pocket hoping the act of holding something would stop the tremble. Instead, he fiddled with the key. His suite was close. He glanced at Angel. “I’m nervous.”

Copyright E. D. Parr, Evernight Publishing 

Music video maker, Angel Starc is about to board a plane to Paris when he receives some sudden sad news. It takes him hurrying back to his childhood home after two years away, estranged from his older brother, Rory.

Angel is amazed and filled with guilt when that night he meets the only man he’s found romantically attractive in a long time. How can it be right? He should only be filled with sorrow, but gorgeous, caring Matt Loewe wraps him in a blanket of comfort and love that heals Angel’s troubled soul.

Delectable, artist, Matt Loewe, follows his hunches and his heart. He’s been looking for love and Angel ignites an addictive passion in him.

As the two men fall deep in love they provide each other with the care needed to come to terms with their past anxieties.

A delicious love story with HEA

(Be warned explicit MM sex)

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