Henry Alexander's story in The
Spiral Down by Aly Martinez is NOW LIVE!
Download your copy of this M/M Standalone
TODAY!
Amazon
US: http://amzn.to/1Xuy9Go
Amazon
UK: http://amzn.to/1TVGmAx
Blurb
I was afraid to fly.
He made me soar.
After years of climbing the ladder of success in the music
industry, I finally had everything I could want.
Yet I still found myself wandering through life alone.
Captain Evan Roth was the one man I never saw coming.
Tall, dark, mysterious… Straight.
We were both damaged beyond repair and searching for something
so elusive we weren’t sure it even existed.
But, when two broken souls collide in midair, falling is a
given.
I just never expected to crave the spiral down.
Excerpt
Henry
“How about you and one of your girls come out
to my show in L.A. next week? My treat. Dinner, drinks, the whole deal. Evan
and I would love to take you two beautiful ladies out for an evening.”
“Excuse me?” he exclaimed, cocking his head to
catch my gaze.
I leaned back into my seat and lifted a hand
to massage his shoulder. I was barely able to suppress a moan when the angle of
his firm trap muscle met my palm.
Fuck, this guy was built like a brick wall.
And I was going to love every second of watching him crumble for me.
“Oh, come on, Evan. It’s the least we can do.
Double date.” I winked at Jessica. “You can fly them out! My plane should be
ready by then.”
Jessica’s eyes jumped to Evan’s. “You’re a
pilot?” Her smile spread irritatingly wide.
Back off, Ginger
Spice.
Snapping my fingers in her direction, I
corrected, “He’s my pilot.”
Subtlety was not a virtue I possessed. Was subtlety a virtue at all?
“Your temporary
pilot,” he amended before shaking his head and then tipping his beer to his
lips for a long pull.
“Anyway. Do we have a date?” And, by date, I
meant feeding her dinner while I attempted to work my way into Evan’s pants.
She pressed one finger to her lips and then
nervously flashed her eyes around the cabin.
“Oops. Sorry.” I shrugged sheepishly. Lifting
my drink to my mouth, I discreetly passed her my cocktail napkin and then
not-so-discreetly brushed my forearm against Evan’s chest as I pulled away.
He offered her a tight smile just before she
disappeared.
I grinned proudly.
“What the fucking hell was that?” he
whisper-yelled at me.
“That was me getting a woman’s number.”
He arched an eyebrow. “A woman. Really?”
“What? Is that not allowed?” I feigned
innocence.
He clenched his fist in his lap, and it made
me suddenly aware that my own hands had stopped trembling—and in record time, I
should note. Evan seemed to be quite useful in the art of distraction.
He leaned closer. “Don’t bullshit me. I looked
you up. You’re…” He stopped, unwilling to say the big, bad “G” word.
“I’m what?” I taunted.
He rolled his eyes and chugged the rest of his
beer.
We went back to silence until Jessica came
back by with another drink, complete with her phone number written on the
napkin.
“I’m not going on a double date,” Evan said as
I tucked the napkin into my pocket. “You want me to fly them out? Not a
problem. Schedule it with Jackson. But that’s the extent of my professional
responsibilities. And, since I’m off the clock right now, I’d also like to
mention that I think whatever play you’re planning to run on that woman is
fucked up.”
My head snapped to his. “I’m sorry. Play?” I
asked with more attitude than I had originally planned.
“Yes. Play,” he sneered.
I stirred my drink. “Let me get this straight.
I’m offering to fly her out in a private jet, feed her dinner at one of the
best restaurants in the city, and put her front row at a concert that has been
sold out for over a year. That doesn’t seem like a play to me. It sounds like
I’m trying to do something nice for a woman I was rude to earlier.” I casually
leaned back in my seat. “My conscience doesn’t ‘play’ when it comes to
apologies.”
“Right. Well, maybe you should have a chat
with your conscience, because she looks like she just won the date of a
lifetime. Meanwhile, you don’t even like women.” He stalled, no doubt looking
for just the right word to express his disgust without sounding like a bigot.
Judging by his gentleness when we’d taken off, he wasn’t the type of guy to go
for the fag bomb.
I watched him intently, excited to see how he
was going to handle this.
“You’re gay.”
I frowned at his lack of creativity. “Not that
it’s any of your damn business. But I’ll have you know I love women.”
It wasn’t a lie. I adored women. Especially
Levee and Robin.
I just didn’t like pussy. Meh. Semantics.
He gaped. “You’re bi?”
“And I’ll repeat: None of your damn business.
But yeah. Do you have a problem with that?”
Again, it wasn’t necessarily a lie.
Was I bisexual? Fuck no. My cock was in no way
an equal opportunity employer.
I was somewhat bilingual though. I knew how to
ask for a blow job in English and
Spanish. I pretended that was what he meant.
Chupame la verga.
My Review
About the Author
Aly Martinez
Born and raised in Savannah, Georgia, Aly
Martinez is a stay-at-home mom to four crazy kids under the age of five,
including a set of twins. Currently living in South Carolina, she passes what
little free time she has reading anything and everything she can get her hands
on, preferably with a glass of wine at her side.
After some encouragement from her friends, Aly decided to add “Author” to her ever-growing list of job titles. Five books later, she shows no signs of slowing. So grab a glass of Chardonnay, or a bottle if you’re hanging out with Aly, and join her aboard the crazy train she calls life.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments
(Atom)
0 comments:
Post a Comment