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Joe Harrison stared down the long, bleached
wooden walkway beside the marina to the graceful man working on the schooner’s
deck. A gust of wind tumbled the dark blond hair, streaked from long days at
sea. The Rio de Janeiro sun glistened over his sweat-soaked body, tanned to a
golden brown. His gaze drifted across the distance to the handsome, chiseled
face he knew so well. He visualized the man’s blue expressive eyes and the
fullness of his lips. He longed to nibble the day-old stubble on his chin and
flick his tongue in the corners of his smile.
Joe tilted his head back and closed his
eyes, overwhelmed with an ache to sink his fingers into the silky mass falling
to the young man’s shoulders. He inhaled. The smell of seaweed mixed with the
ocean’s brine drifted through the window. His mind went back to their earlier
meeting. Dazz’s preference for expensive French cologne, its citrus fragrance
mingled with his natural musk, both surprised Joe and drove him crazy with the
need to bury his nose in the man’s neck.
Joe leaned a shoulder against the window
frame and watched Dazz secure the rigging with the skill of many years at sea.
His cut-off jeans displayed strong thighs and the way the frayed fabric molded
to his muscular ass—God! Joe chuckled and swiped at his mouth. The man had
become an obsession. Joe gripped the window ledge.
The guy made him hard with one glance of
his sapphire eyes. Joe bit his bottom lip. Their lingering handshake earlier
upon meeting invaded his mind. The warmth of Dazz’s callused hand and the way
his long fingers, burnished by the sun, curled around his palm. Joe groaned.
His balls throbbed at the thought of the man’s rough thumb circling his
cockhead.
Joe shook his head to clear the image of
Dazz stretched out naked on his bed. Did he have a snowflake’s chance in hell
with the young guy? Sure, they got on well enough together. How often had he
discussed the latest soccer game with Dazz? Okay, so they had sports in common
but little else.
With a sigh, Joe contemplated the
situation. For a start, Dazz had to be five years his junior. The man of his
dreams lived in a different world and had a different class of friends. What
chance did he have to fit in Dazz’s “live every day like it’s your last”
attitude toward life?
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