Worth a Shot


Title: Worth a Shot
Series: FIT Guys (Book 2)
Genre: Male/Male, BDSM, Erotic Romance
Length: 56,000 words
Publisher: Self Published
Release Date: February 2014
Buy Links:
You can also find it listed and reviewed on Goodreads
Please note - the cover and blurb were updated in June 2015, but the story hasn't changed.


Here's the blurb....

Hot, confident and dominant to the core, Tony Landon is one of the brightest stars of the Falconer Institute of Training’s athletics team. As well known for his talent in the sack as he is for his ability on the track, Tony’s the guy all the straight men want to be, and all the gay men want to be with.
There’s only one person at the institute who seems completely oblivious to Tony’s charms and that’s Donovan. Tony’s been flirting with Donovan ever since the guy joined the institute’s archery programme, but he’s hardly managed to raise a smile from him, let alone get him kneeling at his feet wearing nothing but a pair of handcuffs.
Donovan Matthews might seem oblivious, but looks can be deceptive. Fascinated by Tony, yet terrified of him in equal measure, Donovan is trapped in a web of uncertainty and fear. As much as he wants Tony to tie him up, he can’t even accept a drink off him without hyperventilating.
But, one overheard comment, one moment of bravery, and suddenly the impossible seems possible. It’s not going to be easy for two men who are so different to make things work, but with chemistry like theirs it’s definitely worth a shot.
Author note: While this story can be read as a standalone title, some elements might make more sense if you’ve already read the previous story in the series - Worth Waiting For.

And here's a quick excerpt:
“Here’s to more time spent sprinting and less time spent screwing.”
The words pulled at Donovan’s attention, dragging it back toward the same table of guys that he’d been discretely observing ever since he’d plucked up the courage to start drinking in that pub.
Luck hadn’t been with Donovan that particular night. By the time he’d arrived, all the seats that would have allowed a clear view of Tony Landon had already been claimed. Still, the occasional glimpses he caught of Tony’s profile from his current vantage point were something. Donovan wasn’t above taking what he could get.
As Tony’s companions laughed and drank to the toast, Tony shook his head and slumped back in his seat.
“To the longest three weeks of Tony’s life,” Cosmos, a long distance runner from the Falconer Institute of Training’s athletics team, suggested. Once more, everyone in the group raised their drinks.
Tony drained the last of his beer and glared at each of the men around his table. “I’m so glad you all find our coach’s decision to torture me amusing.”
“Haslet does have a point. You are kind of slutty,” Cosmos pointed out. “You’ll have much more energy for training if you’re not getting any.”
“Pot, kettle, black?” Tony shot back, without missing a beat.
Cosmos smirked. “Call me what you like, sweetheart—I’m not the one who promised Haslet he’d stay celibate until after the Trentmoore meet.”
Donovan looked from Tony to Tony’s friends wishing, not for the first time, that he had the confidence to sit with them around that table and joke about things the way they did. But, no. It was useless, even the thought of joining them was making his grip on his glass turn white knuckled and his throat close up.
“It’s only a couple of weeks,” said another man at Tony’s table, Mike—the team’s shot putter, in a more sympathetic tone of voice.
Donovan lifted his gaze just in time to see Cosmos pat Tony on the shoulder. “Yeah, Tony. It’s only the longest you’ll have gone without sex since you turned legal…”
Tony glared down at him. “You’re a real bastard at times. You know that, right?”
“Yep,” Cosmos said, more cheerfully than ever, obviously not the least bit worried by the fact he was half Tony’s size. Everyone at the table laughed.
Tony pushed his hand through his spiky, blond hair as if he was at his wits end. But, when he turned to get up from the table, Donovan saw that Tony was smiling too, as if he didn’t really mind their teasing. “I’m going to get another drink.”
“Careful, Tony,” Cosmos called after him. “Too much of a good thing and Haslet will probably make you give up alcohol, too.”
Tony didn’t bother to turn around. He just held two fingers up to the whole group as he walked away. Donovan watched him go, automatically dropping his gaze to admire the way tight jeans stretched across Tony’s arse.
As Tony moved out of Donovan’s line of sight, the jokes Tony’s friends had been making gradually presented themselves for Donovan’s consideration. Tony had promised his coach he’d give up sex for the next three weeks.
Donovan frowned at his drink.
Tony and sex were so closely linked in his mind, it was almost impossible for him to think of one existing without the other. Tony not being intimately entwined with the very essence of sex was wrong. But at the same time…
It probably wouldn’t make any difference, but it was worth a shot. Hell, anything that might tip the balance in his favour and make it possible for Donovan to speak to Tony without hyperventilating was worth investigating. Donovan abandoned his lemonade and headed after Tony.
As he rounded the corner, he saw Tony standing halfway along the bar, waiting to be served.
He hesitated. At the last moment, his courage deserted him. He changed course and ended up standing about two metres to Tony’s right. Donovan stared down at the battered wooden surface, cursing his own cowardice. Maybe if he tried to—
Donovan jerked his head up. He didn’t need to sidle down the bar. Tony now stood right alongside him. For a few seconds, Donovan’s vocal cords refused to cooperate, just as they had so many times before. All he could do was stare at Tony like a prime candidate for the post of village idiot. Finally, he managed to clear his throat.
“Hi.” It might not have been the height of wit, but it was pretty close to a normal pitch. It could have been worse—it had been worse on several other occasions when Tony had tried to start conversations with him.
“How did the nationals go?”
Donovan blinked at Tony. “The nationals?”
“The archery nationals, they were last week, right?” Tony asked.
Donovan nodded. “Yes, they were.” Except nobody knew that, because while athletics might be popular enough that everyone at the institute would recognise half the team, archery wasn’t the kind of sport that anyone who didn’t own a bow ever noticed.
“So…?” Tony promoted.
Donovan managed to pull a few brain cells together. “They went well. The institute’s team came third.”
“What about the individual event—how did that go?” Tony prompted.
As Donovan stared up at him, he had the strangest sensation that Tony already knew the answer to that question. “I won,” he blurted out.
Tony failed to look the least bit surprised. “Congratulations.”
“What can I get for you?”
Donovan jumped at the sudden interruption from the other side of the bar.
The bartender looked at the empty beer bottle Tony had placed on the bar. “Same again?”
Tony shook his head. “Coke this time, thanks.”
That meant he was driving. Donovan had been paying attention over the months. If Tony was driving, he stopped after one. If he wasn’t driving, he drank every one of his friends under the table and still never slurred a word.
As Donovan watched, Tony pulled his wallet out of his jeans pocket and turned to him. “What are you having?”
Nothat was what he always said. Whatever Tony had suggested each time he’d approached him, Donovan always panicked and said no, regardless of the answer he actually wanted to give.
Not for the first time, he tried to pull sensible thoughts to the front of his mind and push his nerves aside. Tony isn’t a psychopath. Tony isn’t a complete bastard. Tony isn’t Ryan. None of it helped. Tony can’t expect anyone to fall into bed with him tonight, he’s not allowed to have sex. Bingo!
 “The same, thank you.” To Donovan’s amazement, the words sounded completely calm.
As the barman got their drinks and Tony handed over the money, Donovan stared straight ahead. It might work. God help him, but this might actually work… Apparently, the sure and certain knowledge that Tony wasn’t going to assume they’d have sex that very moment really did make it possible for Donovan to have a drink with him without completely freaking out.
“Come on, there’s a free table over there.” Tony pointed to a completely different part of the pub to where his friends were sitting.
Relaxing slightly as he realised that he wasn’t going to have to face an entire group of guys, Donovan made his way to the empty table. Jacket in one hand and his bottle of Coke in the other, he shuffled his way awkwardly onto the bench that half-encircled the corner table. Tony slid in after him, every movement fluid and confident.
Silence. Damn. Donovan’s nerves made it impossible for him not to attempt to fill the hush with words, any words.
“How did you know the nationals were last week?”
“Well, I kind of know one of the guys on the institute’s team,” Tony said. “Although, if I’m honest, I don’t really know him that well yet. We’ve just flirted now and again. At least, I’ve flirted with him. Until this evening, he’s always just nodded politely and rushed away at the first opportunity.”
Donovan met Tony’s eyes for a horrified moment as he recognized his own behaviour being quoted at him. “I don’t flirt.” Not anymore.
“Never?” Tony asked. “With anyone?”
Donovan shook his head.
“Good,” Tony said, with an easy smile. “In that case, I won’t take it personally.” He took a sip of his Coke.
Donovan gulped down some of his own drink. He tried not to stare at the way Tony’s mouth caressed the rim of his Coke bottle. He tried not to imagine that it was his cock pressed against Tony’s lips. He failed on both counts.
“So, flirting aside, do all bi men make you nervous, or am I special?” Tony asked.
The question hit the air just as Donovan was taking another swig of his drink. He promptly choked on it.
Tony reached out and patted him helpfully on the back. Donovan caught his breath, but somehow, Tony’s hand stayed there, resting high up, near his shoulders. The heat from Tony’s skin soaked through the thin fabric of his shirt. Donovan waited for air to stall in his lungs and his heart to race, but for some reason, it didn’t happen. The only reaction his body offered up in response to Tony’s touch was a rapid hardening of his cock. He discretely moved his jacket to rest over his lap.
“Well?” Tony asked, with an unrepentant little grin. “Should I feel special or not?”
Donovan took a careful sip of his Coke while he played for time. Glancing up, he met Tony’s eyes. He had the distinct impression that lying to Tony wouldn’t do him any good. “Maybe you do make me more nervous than most men in here,” he confessed.
“Because I’m bi and most of them are gay?” Tony asked, conversationally, as if he really wouldn’t take offense if Donovan said yes.
Damn, but it was tempting to say yes. The only other option was the truth and there was no way in hell he could actually say: Because I really want to have sex with you, but I think I might have a panic attack if I try to do that.
Heat rushed to Donovan’s checks at the very idea of uttering those words. He looked up from his inspection of the table top and accidentally caught Tony’s gaze again.
Tony’s eyes sparkled, as if he’d guessed at least part of what the honest answer would be. “How long have you been out?”
Donovan remembered how to breathe. “About three years. I came out when I was nineteen. What about you?” That was three calm and reasonably complete sentences in a row. Donovan couldn’t help but feel a little proud of himself.
Tony chuckled. “I wavered between thinking I was straight, then gay, then straight again for so long I’m pretty sure my family thought I was going to build a revolving door on the closet by the time I finally shrugged and settled on being bi. Since that happened, oh, all of eighteen months ago, I guess I was twenty-three.”
Donovan smiled. It was easy to smile at Tony, even while Tony’s hand lingered on his back. The last time he’d been that comfortable smiling at a guy had been back before—
Donovan shut that train of thought down very firmly. “I think it’s different if you’re gay,” he babbled, eager for any distraction. “I always knew.”
Tony still gave no sign of thinking he was sitting next to a mad man. “My little brother was the same. He’s in the swimming programme here. He’s been out since…” He frowned slightly. “Damned if I can actually remember him not being gay.” He shook his head and pushed his hand through his hair, disordering the blond spikes as he apparently dismissed his brother from his mind.
Donovan watched with appreciation as Tony’s lips caressed the rim of his Coke bottle once more.
“You haven’t dated anyone since you joined the institute,” Tony said.
Donovan just blinked at him. That had definitely been a statement rather than a question.
“I asked around,” Tony admitted, without any trace of embarrassment. “I found lots of guys who’d struck out with you, and a few girls who’ve tried their luck with just as little success, but no one you’ve actually dated.”
“Oh.” Donovan couldn’t think of anything else to say except possibly: I could name at least twenty of your previous lovers off the top of my head. They all say you’re kinky as hell.
“So, I’m left wondering if you dated anyone before you came here,” Tony added.
“Are you trying to ask me if I’m a virgin?” Donovan closed his eyes, but yes, he had apparently said that out loud.
When he forced his eyes open, Tony was making an obvious attempt not to laugh. “I thought I was being subtle, but yeah, pretty much.”
Even though he was sure he was blushing bright red, Donovan couldn’t help but chuckle at the easy way Tony had of taking anything anyone said in his stride.
Tony took another sip of his drink. “Well?”
Donovan’s laughter faded away. “No, I’m not a virgin. There was a guy at university.”
“Didn’t end well?” Tony asked, his voice gentler than it had been before.
 “We weren’t dating. He wasn’t my boyfriend or anything like that.”
Tony didn’t say anything. The silence demanded words. Unfortunately, the only words Donovan had to hand were the truth.
“It…it all kind of… Suddenly, he assumed we were going to… I mean, it wasn’t that I didn’t want to… But, I…” He shook his head as he felt memories and panic start to bubble up inside him. “I’m sorry—I’d rather not talk about it.”
Tony’s hand started moving against his back for the first time since Donovan had choked. It travelled in slow circles, rubbing his back through his shirt. It felt nice and, maybe because of Tony’s temporary vow of celibacy was tipping the balance and reminding Donovan that this situation was very different to the one he’d been in with Ryan, it didn’t feel at all threatening.
“Suddenly things were going faster than you wanted them to go, but you couldn’t pull the brake?” Tony suggested, still in that softer tone of voice.
Donovan nodded—that sounded so much more sensible than his fractured explanations had.
“So maybe that’s made you nervous about getting to know any guys here—you’re worried that if you tell someone you’re interested, things will start to go too fast and you won’t be able to slow them down again?”
Donovan stared at his Coke bottle. “I know it’s stupid. Logically, I know that—”
“It’s not stupid,” Tony cut in. His tone changed and suddenly allowed no argument. He seemed to think for a few seconds. “I have an idea.”
Donovan glanced up at him. “An idea?”
“Yeah.” Tony turned a little more in his seat, pulling his knee up onto the bench between them. “An idea. Will you do me a favour?”
Not sure what else to do, Donovan nodded.
Tony set his drink down on the table. “I’m going to do something. I’d rather you didn’t slap me without at least hearing me out first. Okay?”
Still no closer to understanding what the hell was going on, Donovan nodded again. “Okay.”
Tony smiled. A second later, he leaned forward and dipped his head.
His lips brushed against Donovan’s mouth, both firm and gentle at the same time. Then, before Donovan had a chance to register anything else, Tony pulled away.
Donovan gasped. He looked down. That was the only reaction he managed to scrape together. The rest of his body remained completely frozen in place.
Panic. There should be panic. There was always panic. Even those times he’d managed to get drunk enough to talk to another man, any movement toward doing anything other than talking always brought a wave of memories that swept away any possibility of wanting to be within a hundred miles of another living person.
“Donovan, look at me.”
There was nothing harsh about the words, but they were undeniably an order. They demanded to be obeyed.
Donovan slowly looked up at him.
“You were only going to get more and more nervous, sitting there wondering what would happen if I made a move on you. So—I’ve made my move.”
Donovan swallowed. He could still feel Tony’s mouth against his lips.
“That means the next move is yours,” Tony added. “Nothing past a kiss will happen until you decide you want it to.”
Donovan merely stared at Tony’s mouth in complete fascination.
“You’ve heard me out. This is the point where you’re free to slap me if you want to.”
Donovan was shocked into lifting his gaze far enough to meet Tony’s eyes. “I don’t want to slap you.”
Tony smiled down at him. “I won’t pretend I’m not glad about that.”
Donovan smiled back. It was only then that he registered what Tony had actually said, rather than how much he wanted to kiss Tony when his lips moved to form words. “Did you mean it—about the next move being mine?”
“Yes.” Just that one word, but said in a way that made Tony sound completely confident in his decision.
Donovan took a deep breath and pushed his hand through his hair as if that would help him sort through his thoughts. A second later, he nodded his understanding, and he did understand. Even if Tony was used to dating people who jumped into bed at a moment’s notice, the fact that he couldn’t do that without pissing off his coach made things different.
Donovan nodded again.
Even if Tony wanted them to have sex, which he’d always been quite clear about, he wasn’t going to want them to have sex tonight. Everything was fine. Donovan had three weeks to psyche himself up for it, before sex would be required. He could do this. Donovan was repeating that reassurance to himself in a very firm tone of voice when Tony dipped his head and brushed their lips together again. Donovan jerked in surprise.
Tony pulled back just far enough to meet his eyes.
“I thought you said the next move was mine,” Donovan whispered. Their lips were just a few inches apart. The temptation to lean up and try for another kiss was almost over powering.
“I said that nothing past a kiss will happen until you make it clear you’re up for it,” Tony corrected, still not retreating at all. “I never said that I wouldn’t kiss you every chance I got.”
“That okay with you?” Tony asked.
Donovan nibbled at his bottom lip. “I… You don’t mind just kissing someone and not…”
Tony smiled and stroked his fingers along Donovan’s jawline. “Sometimes a kiss is just a kiss. It doesn’t have to be foreplay, you know?”
Donovan merely stared at him.
“Just kissing someone can be fun on its own. Right?”
I don’t know. I’ve never done that. There was never much kissing with—
Donovan swallowed several times in quick succession. This was different. Tony wasn’t Ryan. Different rules applied. He settled for nodding.
Tony immediately brought their mouths back together. It was just a kiss, not the start of anything else. With that thought fresh in his mind, Donovan found himself cautiously parting his lips, but Tony didn’t rush to accept the invitation. He just brushed their mouths together over and over again until Donovan thought it might drive him crazy.
It wasn’t until Donovan whimpered that Tony finally traced his tongue against his bottom lip and began to explore his mouth in earnest. It was a slow and almost sleepy kiss. Tony slid his free hand behind Donovan’s head and encouraged him to tilt his head to a certain angle, but the other hand stayed on Donovan’s jawline.
There was no attempt on Tony’s part to close the gap between their bodies. There was no hint that things would suddenly spiral out of control. Gradually, Donovan felt himself relax.
Tony kissed like a man who knew exactly what he was doing. All Donovan had to do was follow his lead, which was probably a good thing because Donovan was vaguely aware that any ability he’d ever had for complex thought was gently slipping away.
His hands itched with the desire to reach out to Tony in return, to find out if those blond spikes would be as rough against his palms as he’d always imagined they would be, or if Tony’s jawline carried a hint of stubble.
No, that would be too big a risk. Donovan kept his hands where they were, one resting on the table, the other on the seat alongside him. His heart beat faster, but it was nothing like the start of his usual panic. It all felt quietly sublime.
Eye closed, completely absorbed in the kiss, Donovan lost all sense of where he was or even who he was. The kiss—that was the only thing that was important. A kiss that wasn’t the start of something else, but just perfect in its own right. Part of Donovan wanted to sob with relief at the pure magic of it.
When Tony began to pull away, Donovan moaned his disapproval. He clenched his hand into a fist, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to reach out and stop Tony. He remained very still. He had no idea how much time passed before he was able to open his eyes.
Tony just smiled as he slid his fingers through Donovan’s hair. “Okay?”
Donovan nodded. He really wanted another kiss, and he was pretty sure he was making a fool of himself in front of the hottest man he’d ever met. But, as Tony stroked his hair back from his forehead, Donovan was surprised to find that he really was okay.
“Do you drive?”
It took Donovan a hell of a long time to wrap his mind around the change in topic.
Tony waited patiently, as if he was quite used to melting men’s brains and no longer found their drop in IQ worthy of comment.
“Yes, but I don’t have a car,” Donovan finally offered.
Donovan frowned, sure it wasn’t just his addled brain that made that seem like a strange response.
“That means you don’t have any excuse not to accept a lift home,” Tony explained.
“They rang the bell for last orders a few minutes ago. It’s chuck out time.”
Donovan looked past Tony’s shoulder. He hadn’t heard a bell, but there did seem to be a lot of men moving towards the doors. “Oh,” he repeated.
Tony pulled himself gracefully to his feet. He held a hand out to help Donovan do the same. Trying to navigate his way around the edge of the table one handed probably didn’t help him move less clumsily, especially when he really needed his only free hand to hold his jacket in front of his tenting fly, but Donovan couldn’t quite bring himself to pull his hand out of Tony’s grip.
Their hands were still joined together a few minutes later when Tony brought them both to a stop alongside a car in the street outside the pub. A fresh breeze whipped down the road. It cleared Donovan’s mind a little and offered up certain facts for his consideration—such as, all of Tony’s friend’s teasing aside, there was no guarantee that Tony had any intention of keeping that promise to his coach, and that it was quite likely that Tony would expect to be invited in when they reached Donovan’s place.
“You don’t have to drive me home,” Donovan rushed out. Even to his own ear his voice sounded off. “It’s not far. I can—”
Tony good-naturedly nodded his agreement with everything Donovan said, but he still nudged him firmly into the car.
Sitting in the passenger seat, Donovan watched Tony slide behind the wheel, not sure what to say or how to explain himself. When Tony caught his eye and smiled, Donovan quickly turned his attention to where he’d placed his jacket across his lap.
“You’ll either need to give me directions or an address,” Tony said, starting the car.
“I’m sorry. I thought… I mean…” Words faded away. He didn’t look up until Tony reached out and touched his jawline, encouraging him to turn his head so he could look him in the eye.
“I keep my promises, sweetheart. The next move is yours. I’m just going to drive you home. I’m not going to invite myself in when we get there.”
As easily as he said that, as if no words Tony uttered could possibly be a lie, Donovan felt some of his tension drain away. He nodded. A few seconds passed before he realised that he still needed to follow that up with some sort of concrete information on where he lived.
He’d been telling the truth about not living far away from the pub. It seemed to him as if mere seconds passed before Tony had pulled up at the kerb outside the appropriate block of flats. Tony killed the engine. The car filled with silence.
“Are you completely out?” Tony suddenly asked.
Donovan was pretty sure he should have been used to the sudden changes in topic by that point but, once more unsure what to say, he just nodded.
“So, if one of your neighbours walks past the car and sees me kissing you goodnight, that’s okay?”
Donovan nodded.
He immediately parted his lips under Tony’s kiss. Perhaps Tony was starting to trust him not to freak out, because this time he didn’t make Donovan wait before he deepened the kiss and sent little electric shocks of pleasure tingling through Donovan’s body.
Seconds, minutes, maybe even hours might have passed, but when Tony pulled away it was still far too soon.
“Will you be at the pub tomorrow night?” Tony asked.
Donovan quickly nodded, only to falter. “No.” Damn. “I’m on the late shift at work.” He looked down. “Maybe I can—”
“It’s okay,” Tony cut in, before Donovan had a chance to offer to try to swap his shift with someone else. “How about…?” Tony trailed off. “No. I’ve got a training session booked late on Wednesday.”
All Donovan could do was listen helplessly as the days between then and Trentmoore slipped away. Damn it, three weeks to work himself up to having sex wasn’t going to help if he didn’t get to see Tony in those weeks!
“Friday?” Tony finally said. “I’m meeting up with Cosmos for a training run, but I’m free after that.”
Donovan quickly nodded.
“How do you feel about meeting up at my place instead of the pub?” Tony said.
Donovan was about to nod. Then reality reasserted itself. Tony and him—alone. It was a panic attack waiting to happen.
Tony stroked Donovan’s hair back from his face. “The same rules would apply—the next move will still be yours.”
Between that promise and the one to Tony’s coach, maybe he could be alone with him without freaking out. Or, to look at it another way, if he was destined to freak out, maybe it was better to do that in private rather than in the pub.
Donovan nodded with all the confidence he could muster. “That sounds great.”
* * * * *
“Good day?”
Tony paused halfway along the corridor leading from his flat’s front door and glanced into the kitchen. How had his day been? “It had its moments,” Tony said.
His younger brother, Colby, looked up from a half-made sandwich. “What kind of moments?”
Tony let a self-mocking smile rise to his lips. “The kind where Haslet catches me checking my texts in the middle of a very long, very boring department meeting.”
Colby’s mouth formed a neat little O.
“In my defence, he wasn’t talking about anything that was even vaguely to do with me or any other sprinter in the programme,” Tony said, leaning against the kitchen door frame.
“Has he rescheduled all your training for five AM again?” Colby asked. “Because if he has, I’m relocating to Noah’s for the duration. You and mornings that early are not a good combination.”
Tony shook his head. “It’s even worse this time.”
Colby blinked at him. “Seriously?”
“Yeah,” Tony said. “He apparently made a suggestion, which I, of course, wasn’t taking the blindest bit of notice of. The first thing I registered was… ‘That’s okay with you isn’t it, Landon?’ I look up and everyone in the room is staring at me.”
All interest in his half-constructed sandwich abandoned, Colby leaned back against the counter, his eyes already sparkling with amusement. “And you, of course, said ‘Yes, Mr. Haslet’.”
Tony nodded. “Cue much laughter from everyone I train with. Cosmos damned near fell off his chair.”
Colby’s smile got wider by the moment. “Well, don’t keep me in suspense. What was the suggestion?”
“That I give up sex until after the Trentmoore meet.”
Colby’s jaw actually dropped a bit. “That’s three weeks, right?”
Tony sighed. “Yeah.”
Colby’s eyes narrowed. “You’re taking it scarily well…”
Tony shrugged.
An image of Donovan appeared in the front of his mind. Hazel eyes, light brown hair, a nervous smile and a body that never failed to have Tony hard in an instant.
“The day got better as it went on,” he acknowledged.
“Better how?”
Tony took a deep breath. You know that archery guy I was telling you about. After over a year of me chasing after him, he finally let me buy him a drink. He’s hot, and sweet, and awkward, and nervous as hell. And—
Tony chuckled to himself as he pushed his hand through his hair. And, there was no way in hell he was going to say any of that to his little brother. “I’ll tell you when you’re older.”
Colby rolled his eyes, but he smiled at the familiar brush off, taking it in good part. “Want a sandwich?”
Tony shook his head. What he wanted was Donovan Matthews. Happily, for the first time, it seemed like he might actually get him.