Sham Rocked
By Alex Winters
Hotblooded Holidays, Book 9
A college dropout and a guitar hero get lucky in their very own St. Patrick’s Day love song…
Hugo Spencer never thought he’d be running his family toy factory and living above a garage at this stage in his college career. Then again, he never thought he’d walk in on his girlfriend cheating on him with some hot new stud—and like it! (Well, the hot new stud part, anyway!) Ever since seeing another man in action, Hugo has been rediscovering long-buried clues that he might not be so straight after all. And when he meets the sexy punk rocker who practices with his band in the garage below his new loft, Hugo can’t help but indulge in his newfound attraction to his very own guitar hero!
Rome Hazard is happy that his gran has finally rented out the loft apartment above the garage where he and his band, Headless Chickens, practice whenever the mood strikes. He’s even happier when he meets the new renter, Hugo, a slim, sexy straight dude who nonetheless makes his heart race faster than a blistering guitar solo! After helping Hugo move in one hot summer day, the two form an instant bond that soon turns into something much more than a mere favor. Can their budding bromance survive their small-town Georgia confines, or will it outgrow even their own pounding hearts?
PUBLISHER NOTE: Contemporary Erotic M/M Romance. Rock Star Romance. Holiday Romance. First-Time Gay. 25,400 words. All characters depicted in this work of fiction are 18 years of age or older.
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Excerpt
Rome nodded, realizing they’d somehow inched close enough to touch. “Hmm,” he murmured, suddenly admiring the soft, buttery brown hair atop Hugo’s sweet, pretty head. “I’d settle for something small.”
“Yeah?” Hugo’s voice was a soft, low croak. “Like what?”
“Like running my fingers through your hair, for starters.”
“Oh.” Hugo froze, narrow hip casually leaned against the same counter where Rome stood. “Oh. Wow. That… f*ck, Rome, that… would be…”
“Hot?” Rome murmured, hand trembling as he gently reached out to do just that. “Yeah, Hugo, I think so.”
Hugo nodded and stood, perfectly still, waiting for the mere millisecond or two it took for Rome’s hand to reach his head. His fingertips gently brushed the feathery wisps of Hugo’s hair, soft and fluttering beneath his light touch. Rome could hardly believe this was happening. Here, now, in the middle of the day, without so much as a buzz to spur him along. Instead, he was flying on mere instinct, the thirst and hunger Hugo had talked about burning hot and hard deep within him.
Hugo let out a soft, almost primal moan, his eyelids fluttering as Rome’s fingers slid deeper into his medium-length curls. The feeling was slow, exotic, downright erotic, so new and unexpected after the way Hugo’s homecoming had started less than an hour before.
Rome thought Hugo might lean into the caress, turn it into something inevitably more, but instead, he sagged gently beneath it, as if on sensory overload. Rome knew the feeling, finding it hard to stand himself. Despite his instincts to grab a lock of hair and drag Hugo in for a long, deep kiss, he went the opposite direction, fingertips just gently glancing across his scalp before he pulled his shaky hand away.
“Your turn,” Rome croaked as Hugo quietly opened his half-lidded eyes.
“Mmm, yes please.” Hugo nodded toward the chair beside him. “But you’re too tall, you’ll have to sit for me to rub that pretty stubble of yours.”
“Your wish,” Rome sighed, not just sinking but downright oozing into the chair at his feet.
Hugo stood behind him, gripping the back of his chair as Rome squirmed into place. Warm breath spilled across the top of his head, moments before trembling fingers crept across his crown. Rome gripped the armrests tightly, unprepared for the magnitude of Hugo’s warm, gentle touch and how it might ricochet through every cell of his suddenly squirming body.
“So stubbly,” Hugo narrated, palming Rome’s dome with a warm, doughy hand as his fingers stretched out like spider legs. “Is the rest of you… like this?” Hugo asked, smoothing his hand around Rome’s scalp as if tracing every trace of stubble.
Rome’s voice was pure honey, to match the syrupy sensation as he practically oozed down into his chair. “You’ll just have to find out some time, I suppose.”
“How about now?” Hugo murmured, teasing his hand away as he turned and sank, gently, onto the butcher block in front of Rome.
Rome wasn’t entirely opposed to the idea. After all, the whole running his fingers through Hugo’s hair thing had been mere foreplay in the first place, no matter how divine it felt at the time. Still, he was used to playing a little harder to get. “What, right now?”
Hugo nodded, eyes wide and alive and richly hazel in the warm light bathing the small kitchenette. “We don’t have to do anything,” he lied, through his teeth. Or, at least, Rome hoped he was lying. “I just want to see what you look like… down there.”
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About the Author:
Alex Winters is the pseudonym of a busy restaurant manager whose curious young staff would love nothing more than to follow him around the dining room reading his steamiest, most romantic passages aloud! When not writing romantic holiday stories of various heat levels, he enjoys long walks with his wife, scary movies and smooth jazz. Visit him at www.awintersromance.com to see what stories are brewing up next!
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