The Broken H was a lot of fun to write. I didn’t plan it this way, but after it was written I realized it included a lot of my favorite romance tropes.
A hero with glasses, check.
A native American hero, check.
A lawman, check.
May/December romance, check.
Friends to lovers, check.
Excerpt of The Broken H
Gray stared; he couldn’t help it. And to make matters worse, he was getting hard.
To say that Shane had a beautiful body was an understatement. The man was gorgeous. He was about as tall as Gray — six foot or so — but where Gray was more heavily muscled, Shane had the body of an athlete or, as Gray used to think, an Indian warrior. His chest would look so right with a bear claw painted on it, or with a bone breastplate worn over it …
Shane caught his gaze. An eyebrow lifted. Then in a soft, husky voice he said, “Come here.”
Gray blinked, caught off guard. “Huh?”
Shane crossed his arms over his chest, and continued to lean against the cabinet. His face was unreadable. “I said, come here.”
Gray moved slowly. His feet felt like they weighed a ton. What did Shane want? When he got about two feet away, Shane pushed away from the cabinet and closed the space between them. Gray could have sworn he felt butterflies in his stomach.
He was afraid to breathe, afraid Shane would move away — afraid that he wouldn’t. What was he to do? He stood there watching, waiting, and swallowed down the lump in his throat. Gray had long since memorized every inch of the face before him, those high cheek bones, the long straight nose and the thick black lashes covering those beautiful brown eyes, but damned if his cock didn’t harden completely at seeing them this close. Shane’s dark eyes gazed back for several seconds. Then his sensual lips turned up so slightly that if Gray hadn’t been staring at his mouth, he’d have missed it.
Shane reached behind Gray’s neck, pulled him forward … and kissed him.
Gray’s brain shorted out. The butterflies in his gut started doing donuts and popping wheelies and all he could do was stand there … frozen. What the hell was happening? Shane didn’t like him that way. Hell, more to the point, Shane wasn’t gay. He’d discovered that the hard way when Shane had rejected him all those years ago.
But now the older man smiled against his lips and moved back slightly. His thumb rubbed back and forth on Gray’s neck. “You always did think too much. Just stop it and open your mouth.”
Shane’s lips slanted over his; his tongue pushed deeply inside. He tenderly traced Gray’s teeth and mouth with his tongue, caressing and exploring all at once.
Gray forgot how to breathe, he might have even whimpered when Shane’s other hand came to his waist, tugging him flush against that lean body; he could feel Shane’s erection against his own.
He lost it, it was his dream come to life — not just any dream, but one he had had all too frequently throughout the years — and a wet one at that. Until Shane came to his senses and ceased the delicious embrace, he was going to enjoy it. A little voice in the back of his head whispered, Bad idea, Gray. Think about the consequences, but he didn’t care. He’d probably never get the chance again.
Tightly wrapping his arms around Shane, he caressed that strong, smooth back, even as his tongue returned the attention it received. He tried to go slow, savor it, remember every detail, but damned if Shane didn’t derail him. Hands wandered up under his shirt, caressed his back, then moved around to his chest, plucking at his erect nipples. A tingle ran up Gray’s spine, making him shiver in delight.
Finally, Shane broke their kiss, flipping Gray’s shirt over his head and dropping it to the floor. A finger ran down Gray’s torso, starting between his smooth pecs and ending at his navel. Shane dipped that meandering digit inside the hollow, then followed the trail of hair, starting below his navel, until he hit the top of the low waistband of Gray’s jeans.
Gray watched Shane watch him, those brown eyes practically scorching his body as they followed the line down. Then, before Gray even realized what he was about, Shane bent over and traced the same path with his tongue.
He couldn’t breathe, his breath hitched in his throat and refused to leave. Was this really happening? “Shane …”
“Relax.” Shane rose and kissed him again, this time charting a moist course and nipping along his neck and shoulder, leaving goose bumps in his wake. When he got to Gray’s collarbone, he reached down and unfastened Gray’s jeans.
Oh, God! Gray’s balls pulled tighter, his cock jerking in anticipation. When that tanned, callused hand slipped inside and found his prick, his hips pushed forward, practically begging. Shane squeezed and rubbed through the thin cotton of his boxers. His prick started to leak. Shane moaned and squeezed again as his mouth surrounded Gray’s nipple.
“Fuck!” He pulled Shane closer, cradling his head against his chest with one hand, stroking his back with the other. If he was only going to get to do this once, he was going to seize the opportunity and finally play with that glorious and silken black mane. He snatched the end of Shane’s braid, pulled the band off and unraveled it. How many times had he dreamed of combing his fingers through it? Lifting several strands, he let them fall again.
Shane sighed softly and moved his mouth down Gray’s chest. When he reached Gray’s dick, he hooked his thumbs through the waistband of the jeans and pushed them and Gray’s
Gray’s prick bobbed free, standing straight up, feeling unbelievably sensitive in the cool air. He was so fucking hard he ached. He wanted Shane’s mouth, his hands, something … anything on his cock. “Holy shit!”
Shane’s tongue flicked over the tip, then engulfed his dick in the moist heat of his mouth. Gray groaned, fingers tightening in the thick black hair. Shane groaned too, then stood up, making Gray cry out at the loss of those beautiful lips.
“Bedroom, Grayson.” Shane leaned forward and brushed a quick kiss against him. “Now.”
© J.L. Langley 2017