Thursday, March 17, 2022

'HOME' is Live!

 

HOME is Available to
Buy or Borrow NOW!

Cody and Jase are available NOW!
*Age gap*
*Small-town hookup to lovers*
*Coming home*
*Teacher and retired soldier*
*Family drama*
*SIZZLING chemistry*
HEA GUARANTEED!





WHAT REVIEWERS ARE SAYING:

4 **** "Throughout, the realness of their relationship makes you
feel like you're reading about two people you know..." - Cadiva/Mirrigold

4.75 ***** "Home was aptly named, both of these men found
in each other the comfort, love, and support they always
wanted and deserved." -- Sharon Slick Reads

5 ***** "The heat level is off the charts between them..." -- Xanthe


Thursday, March 3, 2022

'HOME' Cover & Excerpt!

 Hello all!

HOME things for you all today!  I outlined this book back in October/November, thinking it'd be 45-50k words, a sweet novella to ring in the new year and to get the writing juices flowing again. The characters were speaking and the plot made me happy. I had some heavier WIPs plotted, but these guys spoke louder and I think, after everything going on over the last few years (for me personally and out in the world), both the Muse and I needed some low-key, medium-angst, feels-y escapism. It might be... a little sweeter than I usually write, but I feel like we could all use a little more love right now. It made it a fucking joy to write, even when the boys were being a little more frustrating and stubborn than I thought and took a much longer way back to each other than I'd expected--hence the final book coming out at a whopping, novel-length 74,000 words! Gah. 

   Cody & Jase's story is a southern small-town(ish), age-gap story with a couple of twists. Mostly, it's about two men who're in different places on their journey toward finding what they really want out of life, and I loved how Jase's being further down that road to both self and family acceptance made him more understanding of Cody's being on shakier legs. Both are out, but everyone knows that's not always indicative of a clear path forward, especially when family and past mistakes litter the way. I am proud of them for where they ended up and how they handled each other in the end, but they're my babies so they're already beautiful and perfect to me (haha!) so it's about whether I did them justice for you all, now -- here's hoping. 

   So, here we are, just a few weeks until release date and I've got a cover and a excerpt for y'all. I'm so excited to share the shiny new cover art the ever amazing L.C. Chase made pretty for me. I'm extra-super happy with it because the photo was my photo-inspo for Cody that helped a lot of the plot click early on for me. 

Keep reading for the goodies! No pre-order link, sorry, but feel free to add it to GoodReads and bloggers/reviewers can fill out the ARC Request Form: Click Here.





HOME
by Kade Boehme
OUT MARCH 25, 2022!

Third time's the charm... right?

The first time Cody Diaz met the sexy older man, 
Jase Marsh was a soldier on leave.

The second time they met, Jase was newly retired 
and looking to scratch an itch.

The third time Cody met Jase, 
the dream is over and reality crashes in 
at his dad's wedding where Jase's 
former fiancĂ©e becomes Cody’s stepmother.

Oops.

But a physical connection isn’t the only thing they share. 
They’re both on the road to finding themselves
 and what they truly want out of life, 
love, and what home looks like to them. 
Maybe if they stop fighting against their families and their 
pasts and grow from them instead, Cody and Jase will realize 
they can find those things they want together.



EXCERPT:

  Cody felt around the mattress for his cell phone. Still foggy with sleep, he had almost forgotten he wasn’t in his own room as he registered his hand had closed around his phone on the wrong side of the bed and a shower in the adjoining bathroom came on.

            Blinking awake and stretching, he also registered that his body ached in several pleasant places that hadn’t been touched in a while. Hell, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been fucked in so many different positions—or fucked at all. Could it really have been years? Being home hadn’t led to celibacy, by any means, but he hadn’t been with a man, especially one who’d been able to take his time, in long enough he’d almost forgotten how much he enjoyed that feeling of still being full the next morning.

            The night had been wild. One phone conversation with his dad had made him grumbly and feeling the need to do anything but sit in the room and let his bad mood ruin his vacation. He’d gone down to the hotel restaurant, and after eating his feelings, he’d wandered out onto the cold deck, enjoying the chilly, salty breeze rolling off the Atlantic.

            Fuck his dad and his brother’s “Could have been you” text messages with photos of Hawaiian tropical scenes and the boat they’d be having their Thanksgiving dinner on. Cody regretted nothing. His family could wallow in splendor all they wanted; he loved the cold, and he loved the Outer Banks this time of year. Sure, he enjoyed the beach in the summer as much as anyone, and Hawaii would be a nice trip. One day. When he could do it for himself. But there was something magical about the windy, deserted beaches and having the warm, ocean-front hotel to yourself—at a steeply discounted price since it wasn’t peak tourist season.

            Or so he’d thought. He caught movement in his periphery and noticed a man stretched out on one of the few outdoor chaise lounges, looking up at the stars in a sky that was surprisingly clear after a stretch of cloudy, gray days. Almost every night since he’d arrived, Cody had come out on the deck, and since all the outdoor seating had been moved to corners and chained down for the off-season, he’d always been the only one crazy enough to brave the night air. It was November in North Carolina, so it’s not like it was freezing in general, but even with the sun high in the sky the heavy wind off the ocean was…bracing.

            The guy sat up, and in the lights coming from the glass doors and windows of the hotel, it was plain to see he was hot. Like hot. He was definitely older than Cody, probably in his thirties, with dark hair shorn close to his scalp and a big, broad body. When the man stood and stretched out the kinks, Cody had to look away because he definitely had been staring as all six-plus-feet of the guy unfolded. Cody was no shrimp at an even six-feet-tall, and he hit the gym enough to have some nice definition. But this guy was… Cody would say that guy wouldn’t have trouble manhandling Cody in some fun ways.

            Cody picked up the takeout cup of tea he’d carried outside, because the guy noticed him suddenly with a quiet “Oh.”

            “Hi. Sorry. Didn’t see you there,” Cody said. “Just came out for some air.”

            “Don’t worry about it. I think I fell asleep.” The guy grumbled something about being old, but the majority of what he said to himself was carried off on the noisy wind.

            “I envy you if you can sleep in this. It’s so quiet here that people walking down the hall sometimes wakes me.”

            The guy gave a cute grin and said, “You’d be surprised what I can sleep through. I love it out here, in the cold, though. Don’t get it much where I’ve been. Thought I was the only one who braved it.”

            Cody smiled in return. “Funny, I was thinking that exact thing.” The guy leaned against the deck railing on the opposite side of the stairs to the beach from where Cody perched, and they both stared out at the ocean quietly for a long while. Cody cast a few side glances the guy’s way, consciously trying to avoid being obvious but enthralled by the guy. This was the south, after all, and the guy screamed blue-collar with the kind of muscles you got from hard work. He wore baggy jeans, a hunter green fleece pullover, and work boots, all of which were effortlessly attractive on his large frame. Cody knew well that none of those things meant someone was straight any more than his skinny jeans, pea coat, and carefully groomed hair meant that he was not straight.

            On about his third subtle glance toward the man, he’d caught the man giving him the same glance though. No. Surely not. Wishful thinking maybe. The guy was probably wondering why Cody hadn’t fucked off already. There was a fine line between hanging around because you paid to stay in this hotel, too, and staying to check out a straight man who would toss you down the steps because he’d caught you looking at his big, muscly butt in those outdated carpenter jeans.

            Cody laughed at himself for assuming, again, that those were the only options here. But he’d been having such weird luck lately, he didn’t put anything past the universe at this point. He decided he should definitely go inside, though, at least until the guy went somewhere else.

            But. He looked back toward the guy again, and he was giving that cute grin, one much too shy for a guy that size. It turned him from smoking hot to pretty fucking adorable, and Cody had to stop himself from staring again. “I’ll just, uh…” He pointed toward the indoors. He grabbed up his to-go cup, but the guy said, “I was just going to go…stretch my legs a little. You don’t have to go.”

            Cody tilted his head, wondering if that was an invitation. Even if it had been, he’d been silent, unable to think of a response too long, so the guy’s smile morphed into a slight grimace, and he gave a little two-finger salute before clunking quickly down the stairs.

            Cody watched for a little while, still able to make out the guy’s silhouette in the bright full moon’s light as he slowly loped down the beach until he was too far to be seen. Cody shook his head. Wishful thinking. Or he’d just blown it. Whatever. He was off his game anyway, after that annoying conversation with his dad.

            What else was new? And he hadn’t tried to pick up or been picked up by a man in long enough that he was rusty on the subtleties that dance required outside of a hookup app or a specifically LGBT space.

            He didn’t stay outside much longer since he seemed determined to beat himself up over letting his shitty mood and his family situation ruin yet another facet of his vacation. He made his way back inside and pulled up to the bar in the dining room. All that was left at that point in the evening was a single bartender and the one waitress who’d taken care of him for dinner earlier. They’d been in a corner together, playing on their phones and gossiping until the waitress noticed him and nodded in his direction. The bartender smiled and, tucking his phone in his back pocket, came around to ask Cody “Hey, man, what can I get you?”

            He held up his paper cup, removing the lid. “Can I just get a refill on hot tea?” Because this was the south and you had to clarify, even in the winter.

            “Sure thing. English Breakfast, Sleepy Time, or just the Lipton black tea?”

            “Lipton’s fine.”

            “No problem,” the bartender replied, pulling a sugar caddy and a bowl of creamers from under his bar. When he came back with a cup full of hot water with a bag steeping, they settled up and Cody went to stand. “You can hang here if you want. Despite how it looks, we’re open for another three hours.”

            Cody glanced at the empty dining room. Half the room’s chairs were up on the tables and behind a rope, but the booths and tables nearest the bar were still open. “Yikes. Three hours?”

            The bartender laughed. He was closer to Cody’s age, maybe twenty-five at the oldest, and his laugh made his face scrunch up in a really cute way. “You know how it goes on the off-season. But they pay us hourly, so I don’t mind. You just holler if you need anything.”

            Cody smiled and waved him off. He sat, sipping his tea, warming up after his time outdoors. He wasn’t ready to go back to his room just yet, so he watched the headlines on a cable news channel on the TV behind the bar. He occasionally glanced at the bottles that lined that wall, as well, and was annoyed how much his shitty mood made him want to get lost in something other than his sugary hot tea. But no. Even his dad being an asshole wasn’t worth backsliding.

            Pulling out his phone, he rolled his eyes at yet another photo of his brother and sister-in-law on jet skis. His brother didn’t mean to be an ass. He was nowhere near as bad as their dad. But he was obliviously insensitive sometimes. He definitely didn’t understand letting pride get in the way of their dad paying for the family to go to Oahu for Thanksgiving. And he had been loud about how dumb he’d thought Cody was being.

            No. Cody let his dad shame him into a lot of things; his pride had taken a big enough hit just moving home last year instead of going…anywhere else like he’d planned. No, he still had some pride, and now that he had survived and done well in his first year at his first adult job, he was clinging to the independence he finally felt again.

            A person settling into the barstool next to him had him locking his phone and putting it down. No way was he going to sit and whine with a stranger to witness. But he blinked, felt his brows go up when he saw the sexy/adorable older guy from earlier taking the place next to him.

            The man glanced at Cody, that cute grin again, and Cody took in his cheeks, pinkened from the cold. The man rubbed his big hands together to warm them as he propped his elbows on the bar top. His hair wasn’t as dark as Cody had thought outside, was actually probably blond when it grew out. His skin was that golden tone some natural blonds had. Cody figured his first guess about the guy being in his thirties was close because the guy didn’t have that soft look guys his age usually had. The man had no baby fat, his features strong, but still youthful. Cody had to stop himself grinning when he thought DILF. The man wasn’t wearing a ring, though, and his big green eyes held an interesting mix of hope, shyness, and a loneliness Cody could absolutely relate to.

            He also hadn’t broken eye contact with Cody the way straight guys do when they’re just being friendly. No. He held for a beat, looked off shyly while the man rubbed the stubble on the back of his head, and then he glanced back. “I don’t mean to be presumptuous,” the man said.

            Cody’s chest fluttered, and he felt warm in a way that was decidedly not from his tea or the central heating. But he didn’t want to get ahead of himself. The man could totally mean what Cody hoped he meant. Boy howdy would that be a much better distraction than ruining his sobriety. But the guy could also just be seeking a little human interaction in this ghost town of a hotel.

            The guy was starting to look embarrassed now it’d taken Cody a moment to answer. But two times in one night? Cody wouldn’t blow this, just in case. So… “No. No, it’s cool. You can sit here.” He looked down and then back up through his eyelashes. “If I can buy you a drink.” An oldie, but a goodie as far as being blunt about his meaning if the guy was interested.

             The way the man’s face lit up, his smile unbearably warm and happy, did funny things to Cody’s insides. He let out his own breath of relief when the guy exhaled loudly, running his hand over his smiling face and said, “Oh, thank God.” He seemed to pull himself together. “Sorry. I don’t normally approach strangers like this. Not in a long time. But here you are.”

            Cody tried to make light of it. “A port in a storm, they might say.”

            The man studied him, curiosity creeping into his gaze. “No. It’s not because we’re the only two here. Surely you know how beautiful you are?”

            Beautiful? Now Cody was blushing. And Cody did not blush. The sincerity in the man’s gaze kept him from scoffing or saying some self-deprecating thing. He chose to take the words for what they were. Kind. And clearly signaling attraction. “Me? I haven’t been able to take my eyes off of you since I saw you.” Cody wasn’t always quite that forward, but he was glad he had been because the soft, pleased expression on the stranger’s face was worth it.

            Doubt slithered into those smiling green eyes, though. “I’m…a lot older than you.”

            That made Cody smile, and maybe rolling his eyes wouldn’t prove he was super mature, but he had to say it. “I’m old enough. And if you’re over forty, I’ll eat this paper cup.”

            The man rolled his eyes in an exaggerated tease. “Old enough, huh? But you’re right. I’m not quite there yet.” He eyed Cody then nodded toward the to-go cup. “Not old enough for booze?”

            Cody stiffened but didn’t break eye contact when the man looked back at him. “I’m old enough. I just don’t drink.” Anymore. But he wanted to get in the guy’s pants, not marry him. “I also have a degree, salaried job with benefits, and a seven-inch dick. Anything else you need to know?” Whoops. Sassy Cody came out to play. But before Cody could even think about feeling dumb for it, he saw the way the man’s eyes flared. Then the man laughed out loud, and it made Cody want to fuck him and hug him at the same time.

            “Okay, Mr. Adult.” The man held out a hand as if to shake. “I’m Jase.”

            Cody took his big, work-roughened hand in his, and it was warm and strong. The thought of that rough hand, that tight grip on his cock. Damn. “Cody. Nice to meet you.” Cody decided if forward was what got this guy off, then it was time for a little more of that. Shaking his hand once more for emphasis as he smiled and looked Jase dead in the eye, he said, “So. You want that drink now, old man? Or do you want me to go shake other parts of your body now?”

            Jase’s nostrils flared, smile grew mischievous, grip firmer. “Your room or mine, kid?”


Ahhhh! That's it! Hope you're excited for more of Jase & Cody! It's almost time! Don't forget to add it to your GoodReads shelf: CLICK HERE.

Now, off to work on my current WIP and finish these edits. Don't forget Cody & Jase will be out to buy/borrow on March 25th, 2022 -- also will be available in paperback!


<3kade

Saturday, October 30, 2021

Happy Halloween!

 

Halloween Weekend ONLY.
The Pumpkin Patch is ON SALE for
only 99 CENTS!

Buy or Borrow on Kindle Unlimited NOW!




When a family illness delays Max Kirby’s life plans, he finds himself back in his hometown of Riverbush, a quaint mountainside community he’d have been otherwise happy to leave behind. But things have changed since he left for college. Seems all anyone wants to talk about is the brutal murders of a local family that rocked the town a year prior. And the strange rumors about the only surviving son, Dusty Roedell, who took up residence at the old farmhouse after the tragedy.

Now Max needs a job while he’s in town, and Dusty is looking for a night watchman to keep the vandals, pranksters, and crime scene gawkers off his property. Ignoring gossip that makes Dusty sound like a ghoul, Max takes the job, and finds only a grieving man trying to get on with his life. But Dusty is far more intriguing than Max expected, and his night shifts at the murder house lead to lustful thoughts about his new boss, along with shocking discoveries about the night Dusty’s family was killed.









Saturday, July 24, 2021

'How to Love' Now Available!

 

“⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ Quite the romantic tale, with unconventional MCs that are not ripped with abs for days, but are handsome & charismatic in their own way. … a hot, fun & funny story, with strong heartfelt moments.” — Richard L

 



How to Love
Kade Boehme

Adam Wright loves his city, his job, his close friends, 
and is content with his single status. But his unrequited
 crush on his sometimes drinking buddy, 
the seemingly straight Tommy, 
is shaking his ability to maintain the status quo.

Even if Adam doesn't want to admit it, 
his walls aren't as high where Tommy is concerned. 
Tommy is older, more outwardly confident, 
and full of surprises—not the least 
of which is the night when drinks 
lead to proof Adam's crush isn't so unrequited.

As they navigate Adam's anxiety and Tommy's
own insecurities, their fairy tale may just have the happy 
ending they both needed time to realize they deserve.


or Borrow on Kindle Unlimited

Tuesday, June 8, 2021

Mailing List!

Hey guys! Long time no post, I know. Getting things up and running again so the first step: a shiny new mailing list! Join up and get ready for the latest new about new releases from me and my friends, book recommendations, and giveaways galore!

Subscribe to Kade's newsletter!

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/ ( mm / dd )

Wednesday, May 18, 2016

'WANT' is live!

WANT is live on Amazon! Available now for $2.99 USD, free on Kindle Unlimited.



WANT
by Kade Boehme
Now Available!


D is too old for games.

Dante "D" Vargas is home in Miami, to stay. He has a job he likes as the new head of bonds and bounty for Mack's Security and after six years of making a mess with Trevor Mackentire, he's ready—he thinks they're both ready—for them to stop playing around and figure out if what they have is real. But Trevor is his boss's son and his best friend's younger brother so it's not as easy as taking what he wants.

Especially when he also has to convince Trevor he's over being afraid of his feelings and not everything is what it seems.

Trevor wants the D(ante).

Finally healthy and whole again after the effects of a major car accident, Trevor's tired of being treated like a child by everyone he loves. He's been handling his own for a long time. But he's lonely. Trevor knows he shouldn't keep setting himself up to be hurt by D's hot-and-cold routine, but he's cared for the man for what feels like forever, and lusted for him even longer.  

Yeah, they set each other on fire, but old fears, old wounds, and being stuck in a game of push and pull makes it feel impossible to get it together. Maybe they should just leave well enough alone. 

It'd be easier if every meeting, every taste didn't leave them wanting more.


Wednesday, April 27, 2016

Rambling: On Diversity, Sensitivity, & the Non Existent Frontier

It baffles me that I can't even say "race & religion are the final frontier" of bullshit in romance. It isn't a frontier at all. We beat each other TO DEATH over sexism, transmisogyny, gender roles, yet we NEVER talk openly and honestly about racism and cultural / religious appropriation -- only in small corners of Twitter. Racial issues hit the fan SO infrequently, and when they do there be no "think pieces" nor are there a hundred people "weighing in" as seems to be the norm with EVERY OTHER FUCKING ISSUE in the genre. 

I'm obviously great and totally happy with us being tolerant and trying to be the most informed people we can be. We should. We should strive to teach and to learn. I mean, with the frequency we discuss it all -- and fight each other over genre gender issues and sexuality labels/non-labels -- I literally feel, sometimes, like I discuss & think about all this stuff more than I ever did taking actual Gender Studies and upper level Sociology in university. Again, it's great we're all so aware, but ... while everyone is worried about who has the right to write what and are HYPERsensitive to the role of this person or that person or what "Queer Romance" means to each person -- and sometimes they're nasty, knock-down, drag-out fights -- we so often and constantly just walk right by casual and not-so-casual racism and religious insensitivity. No one is discussing it. A handful of people get upset over one of these issues, occasionally, and the genre as a whole ignores it.

I mean really.

A Hispanic character is more than a general character with a few italicized Spanish words with a mother who’s illegal; an African American character is far more than ebonics and a “chocolate dick that contrasts so beautifully with the bottom’s ivory ass cheeks.”

And religious characters… Not just a hijab, an up-tight cross bearing martyr, nor just kosher boys who’ll throw over their respective ideals for a relationship.

Race and religion are SO significant, there’s such a sense of identity found within being a Brooklyn Jewish person or a WASP from New England or an African American Pentecostal from Georgia or an agnostic Native American from Noxubee County, MS. Culture is SO important. Hell, gay culture is a huge part of M/M, so I dont have to explain at all why culture is a huge part of characterization and even plot. 

Many authors rely heavily on a sense of place or setting for the cities in which they base their stories. And they’re done with such seamless and flawless understanding of the areas that you can smell the air, see the buildings. You can sense the camaraderie in a small gay bar in a small town with a group of LGBT men and women in these books so much that you feel like these people are your friends.

So. Why in the actual fuck can the same sense of respect for and sensitivity to culture and language and family ties and sense of community not be given to these characters? WHY is your character using racially insensitive language unless it’s a necessary part of narration? Why is your character casually anti-semitic unless you have a big picture plot going on? For your main character to accept his/her romantic interest calling him/her an insensitive term or to just convert to make the significant other more comfortable, you’re saying “it’s okay for people to give away huge chunks of their identity so long as they keep their man happy”. That makes me wanna just scream FUCK THE PATRIARCHY. What the fuck kind of message is that in a genre that’s BUILT around diversity? How rich does it make your character to let a part of their personal identity be something so easily sold out for an obviously unhealthy relationship?

I GET IT. Some brown and black skinned people don’t want to be known for their skin color, some gay men don’t like labels, and some Jewish people convert, BUT in the infinite and often unchecked privilege in the romance writing community, it’s standard and accepted that everyone gives up anything “for love” and since 8 out of 10 books have a strapping white “alpha male” MC, of course one gives up anything to be with HIM.

Dude.

No.

IF you can’t see that it’s not okay to treat religions and race as just minor character traits like eye color, if you can’t put in some actual research or ASK A QUESTION, why even bother? It surely can’t be helping your sales to write a Person of Color who abandons all sense and reason and sense of self for their one WHITE true love. That's undertones and overtones and 50 shades of insensitivity.

NO ONE is saying you can’t write a Muslim Pakistani character just because you’re a white atheist any more than they’re saying you can’t write a gay male character because you’re a cis het female… But do it fucking justice, man. ESPECIALLY if you know what it is to be marginalized. 

We have SUCH diverse readership. Authors have done it with gay/bi characters since M/M started... If you feel you aren't portraying a PoC right, e-mail one of your friends/readers. Same with religion. If you don’t know more about a religion or its practitioners or an ethnic group than what you’ve seen on an episode of Law & Order, you should definitely ask more questions. You don't have to let them beta your work and you don't even have to let other people dictate HOW you write... but it srsly takes 5 seconds to ask a quick question.

I'd, personally, rather say "I'm trying not to, but I’m probably going to sound like an ignorant fuckhead here, probably, so PLEASE help me: [insert question]" and have a FRIEND who understands I'm not TRYING to be an ignorant fuck head, that I’m honestly trying to educate myself, correct me than drop a book full of ignorant fuckheadedness and offend THOUSANDS of people.

Because, while romance and fiction aren’t always political, you do step into a more political arena when you’re writing about minorities. And if you can’t take the time to be sensitive, to ask a question, it’s hard to come to your defense when there’s backlash. Because in 2016, with our level of understanding of SO MANY issues in our little corner of the internet, our understanding of pansexuality and demisexuality and homoromantic asexuality and non-binary zes & zers, -- hell, we are even lauded for being more sensitive about body image issues, at times -- we should be SO much more capable of being racially, culturally, and religiously sensitive.

And that this isn’t a conversation anywhere but in a quiet corner of the twittesphere is really disappointing.

But, hey, PLEASE continue to write more diverse characters. Don't let anyone tell you not to or that you aren't allowed to. We need more diversity, as our rainbow is full of not only many different types of sexuality, but people of different races, backgrounds, religions. And I think our readers -- certainly my friends I’ve met through this genre -- love the individuality of our characters. But remember to come at it with respect. I know I’ll line up to read what you do.




Friday, April 22, 2016

Small Towns, Big Hearts 99 CENT SALE

THIS WEEKEND ONLY 


April 22 - 25 get your small town love story fix with Borrowing Trouble and my my recent release Simple Things, as the eBooks are only 99 cents at the U.S. Amazon store!  


BOTH TITLES ARE AVAILABLE
FREE TO BORROW FOR KU SUBSCRIBERS





BUY LINKS

Borrowing Trouble 

Simple Things

Friday, April 15, 2016

WANT cover & excerpt

I decided I wanted to let my hair down a bit and write something kinda smexy, a little dirtier than my usual. It took on a life of its own and has become a little more romancey than I thought Trevor and D ever would. But... how could they not when Trevor really wants the D and D wants him right back.




WANT
by Kade Boehme
Cover by Dar Albert
Coming May 2016

Trevor McEntire and Dante "D" Vargas have been dancing around each
other for years. D knows he shouldn't keep crossing the line with his best
friend's little brother. Trevor knows he shouldn't keep setting himself up
to be hurt by D's hot-and-cold routine. That'd be easier if every meeting, 
every taste didn't leave them still wanting more.


EXCERPT

Trevor

I had shit to do, tonight, and I was already running behind. I didn’t have time to do more than go change clothes and swap out rides. I sure couldn’t pull up in the Trans and not expect a hundred questions, most of which would be from all the other car enthusiast co-workers who’d be around that would notice more than one of the not-so-street-legal additions.
I made quick work—as quick as one could with Saturday traffic being what it was in Miami Beach—of going back to my house outside town and switching out the Trans Am for my old ‘88 Blazer. While the Trans Am was the car I’d fuck, the Blazer was the old girl I’d marry. I babied the hell out of her since I got her as a fixer upper during rehab two years earlier.
Once again I made the trek back to the city, toward the nightclub I’d be meeting my people at. My family, not the hellions I’d been running with earlier in the night. Thankfully the venue was mixed so some of this sex and fire in my blood could get burned off. I’d only just gotten inside good and made my way toward the bar before a big hand pulled on my shoulder, turning me to face a familiar face.
    “You look like you’re in a good mood,” my brother Evan said as he clapped his hand on my shoulder and pulled me into his customary bro-hug.
    I spat out the mouthful of hair I’d inhaled when he’d pulled me in. “Shit, Ev.” I pulled back, scrubbing a hand over my face to alleviate where his hair had been. “Do something with your hair.”
    He chuckled. “Sorry,” he said, not sounding very apologetic. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a black hair tie, deftly putting his shoulder-length hair up in a man bun, or douche bun as I called it. I rolled my eyes. “Don’t hate me ‘cuz my hair is luxurious,” he repeated his favorite line I always received when I gave him shit for his long locks.
    “Whatever you say, Fabio.” I turned to the bartender and ordered a Jack and Coke. After paying up, I turned to find Evan still standing, arms crossed and brow cocked. He knew better than to try to intimidate me with his size, I’d outweighed him since I moved back last year and we both stood relatively the same height, six-foot-one respectively. I didn’t know why he seemed to be trying, though, because I wasn’t brooding and I’d come to this damn bachelorette thing—not that he or my boss Jill, one of the brides, gave me much choice.
“So. You’re all smiley. What gives? Jill practically had to force you to come tonight so I was expecting more of your whole pouty-face thing.”
I most definitely was not smiley. That my being in a decent mood had him suspicious spoke to what a miserable bastard I must have been to be around lately.
“Get laid or something?”
I scoffed. I wish. Laid. It’d been a long year since that happened, but I wouldn’t discuss that with him. I barely wanted to think of the last time or my reasons for not hooking up since, much less tell Evan about it.
But I couldn’t exactly tell him why my body was thrumming with adrenaline, why my heart was pounding. The second best thing to sex to me still had me buzzed, even as my sexy Trans Am sat cooling in my garage.
“Just in a good mood.” I shrugged.
The skeptical once over he gave me ruffled my feathers. I know I wasn’t exactly a joy to be around all the time but damn, I wasn’t a miserable bastard. I didn’t have to protest though. His body relaxed almost immediately when my boss, Jillian, and her fiancee Denise walked over to greet me. He smiled broadly behind their backs when I went rigid as the tipsy brides-to-be passed out hugs and air kisses to me.
He hadn’t been entirely wrong about my not being excited to come out tonight. Not that I disliked my boss. She’d served in the middle east with Evan, had my brother’s back when it really counted, and she had given me a job, no questions asked, when I came back from Jacksonville with my auto body repair trade certificate in-hand. But the thought of getting drunk with her was awkward because she was not only my boss, but the ex of the biggest crush of my life.
And that right there was what I didn’t want to think about. Dante Vargas—D, as he was called. She’s a lesbian, so being jealous of D’s ex was a futile waste of emotion, but that they had a kid together always served as a reminder she’d had a relationship with him. And I was more jealous of that than I was the fact they’d actually been intimate.
Denise saw me squirming under my boss’s attention, Jillian excitedly telling me about all the people who’d shown up that I’d know, that she grinned like Evan but took Jillian’s hand. “Come on, sweets. Let’s let him actually see everyone that showed up.” She started pulling Jillian toward the stairs the led to the club’s upper level.
I knew I liked her.  
My brother ordered himself a beer while I sipped my Jack and Coke and got my game face on. I could do this. Everyone would be drunk. And it’s not like D’s kid would be there so the reminder they’d been together would last only as long as a drink or two before the don’t-give-a-shits really kicked in.
I scoped the dance floor of Vida, one of Miami’s newer clubs. The mixed crowd put me at ease, boys danced with boys, girls danced with girls, and straight couples peppered the crowd. The dark of the large room was only broken by the occasional strobe light and black lights that lined the ceilings and bars.
“Ready to go up?” Evan asked.
I nodded and followed as we made our way to the second of three floors. The second floor was a little brighter and slightly quieter, the music low and conversation a steady hum. I could still feel the bumping of the bass from downstairs through the soles of my Timberlands.
We made our way around the bar in the middle of the room to a table—or several tables that’d been pushed together—where a large group of familiar faces sat. I knew most everyone there, though some were new to me.
I fist bumped my way around the table, shook a few hands, greeting co-workers and some people I knew that’s served with Jillian, Evan, and D. Judging by the flushed faces all around and the general level of noise coming from everyone, I’d say the majority had imbibed more than a little in the extra hour it’d taken before I showed up.
Evan took a seat close to Jillian and Denise and pointed to the chair next to him. I sat, gratefully, and eyed the chair next to mine with a black leather jacket slung over the back. I look over to my brother in question but he’s immersed in conversation with a guy I only vaguely recognize.
I shrugged to myself and took another long drink of my Jack and Coke, letting it warm me through and build on the buzz I’m still feeling from tearing up the streets only an hour ago. I try not to be too pleased with myself, knowing any silly grins will give me away to anyone looking and I most definitely don’t need my brother, who’s been babying me too long, to get all pissy.
My thoughts were interrupted by the happy cheers erupting at the table when the chair beside me shifted. I wasn’t ready at all.
I knew my eyes must have been wide as D took a seat next to me, his characteristic flirty grin stretching wider, clearly pleased to see I’ve arrived. He sat his drink down and passed me one. “Jack and Coke right?”
Mother. Fucker.
I silently took the proffered drink from his hand and set it down on the table in front of me, doing my best not to gawp at him.
I looked accusingly at my brother and Jillian who were paying me zero attention. No one said a fucking word about D being back in town. I’d never have come out had I known.
The worst part was how viscerally I reacted to his presence, the deep down need I felt, even though I hadn’t seen him in so long. It’s like it was always there, the chemistry that flowed between us. And I was smacked over the head with it before he’d even completely settled in his seat.
I looked around the table and no one seemed to be as flummoxed by his arrival as I. I was the only one surprised by his appearance, his delivering me a drink—how had he remembered my favorite?
The conversation started back up, a couple of people drawing D in, but I couldn’t think with the heat of his body so close, the scent of his cologne drifting around us. I slammed back the last of my drink, then turned up the one he’d delivered. He never attempted to draw me into conversation, just kept smirking and looking at me from the side of his eye.
Bastard.
Thankfully one of the cute twinks in a Club Vida t-shirt came around to see if anyone needed a new drink and I ordered another. I attempted to join in my brother and Jillian’s conversation but kept zoning out. Then D moved his leg, just slightly, and his pressed against mine, touching from our boots to our knees. Right about then I was glad to have had a few drinks in my system because the heating of my body cause a flush I could blame on the whiskey.
Anger joined in the mix of adrenaline, intoxication, and arousal—anger at D’s presence, anger at his daring to flirt, and most of all anger at myself for responding so readily.
My mind flashed back on the last time I’d seen him, stretched out naked on his bed, sleeping with just his strong back and the rise of his firm ass visible, the rest of him covered in luxurious cotton sheets. I still felt a bereft devastation I couldn’t remember the previous night, not even so much as a kiss. I’d awakened in his bed, after praying and hoping for years for just one more night. But I’d slipped out after taking that mental picture, crept into the muggy pre-dawn Miami morning, and not looked back as a taxi drove me home to shower off the scent of him. I knew, as the sun rose and I fell into bed, D would have risen by then, and he never called or text messaged; he got on a plane and flew away.
And now, I wanted to be righteously indignant, but my brother couldn’t know. My boss, D’s ex and the mother of his child, most definitely could not know. And here I was, not moving my leg away, privately reveling in the way his warmth seeped into my body through our denim clad legs.
    As my cock rose to a stand, I swigged back the drink the barback had delivered and decided this madness couldn't stand.
I elbowed Evan. “Hey, I’m gonna go unwind a bit.” He spared me a brief glance and nod. Evan knew I loved clubs, loved to dance. That’s why I came out. I’d toss back a few drinks, take it to the dance floor, then crawl home. Alone. Always alone. Because D’s touch had ruined me a year ago—hell, really six years ago—and I was the idiot who kept living like a fucking monk because of it. I had no delusions that D had done the same.
Which kindled the flames of my indignation higher and fueled me on as I shoved my chair back and wandered off to the bar for a drink I most definitely did not need. I’m not a light weight, by any means. Guys my size don’t get fucked up off a couple cocktails. But the few I’d had, plus the natural high of post-race adrenaline had me feeling right.
While I finished off the drink I’d ordered I caught D’s gaze settled on me, even as he engaged others in conversation.
I dropped the drink down and went back downstairs to the dance floor. It took me less than twenty seconds of moving my hips, dancing with abandon, to have a semi-nude guy grinding on me. I loved it, the freedom, the way the music vibrated inside me. Thank goodness it was replacing that other pounding inside me, the need for D.
After a good ten minutes of steady dancing, sweating, and getting turned on by the press of my dance partner’s clothed cock pressing against mine, I had to give in to my need to piss. Before I left, the man poked out his full bottom lip, pouting sweetly then looked toward the back bathroom in an invitation I’d love to take him up on, but knew I wouldn’t.
Not yet. And certainly not with D there.
I shook my head and the guy shrugged, but before I could leave he pressed a dirty, grape-flavored liqueur kiss on my mouth, giving my cock a rub for good measure. I shuddered bodily at the feeling.
Shit. Why’d I have to be so fucking lame?
I wished I could say I wasn’t that person, the one who fixates. But I am. I wanted respect, I’d throw everything I had at getting it. If I wanted to be the best at the drag strip, I worked my ass off. If I wanted a man, I was like the lone wolf who’d imprinted on his mate. And I wasn’t sure when or how I’d done that with D, but I needed to fucking get that fixed. Because I couldn’t have D. He would be flying back to his new life in Boston after this wedding and I couldn’t let my life and my psyche be flipped upside down by the man again.
Pushing my way through the crowd I made my way to the line for the restroom. I could use any of them as there were five in the club, but I prefered the one I could lock behind me, thank you. So in line I waited. Thankfully it was a short line, this time. My turn finally came and I put my hand to hold open the door after the lady in front of me exited. She gave me a flirty smile which I did not return. But before I could go in, a palm rested on my lower back.
I turned my head to find D standing there. His eyes were half-lidded, the dark brown boring into mine, full of heat and promise that had my wide-open mouth unable to form words.
Maybe it was the booze or the music, but when he pushed me in and slammed his mouth on mine, I couldn’t protest. I didn’t even fucking want to.

    
More coming soon. ;)
<3kaderade