Authors: SJD Peterson

Plan B (27 page)

Lance threaded a hand in my hair and jerked my head to the side, the minute his mouth touched his mark on the side of my neck, he grunted, sucked at my neck, and hot seed fountained over my fist. Lance’s ass clamped down hard, squeezing my prick, and I couldn’t hold back. I think I shouted out his name and “I love you” and “mine,” but I can’t be sure, because Lance was sucking my throat and he was tugging my hair and a hand was squeezing my ass and it was all just too fucking much and I was coming so hard I saw stars.

I soared, and when it was over, I didn’t float back down all soft and willowy. I crash landed. The tension and fear melted out of me. The pain of the last three years was gone and I felt whole for the first time in a long time. I was in Lance’s arms and he was murmuring against my ear how much he loved me and about Plan Bs, and I believed him. I didn’t have a shred of doubt that my longing for him was over. On some level I knew he was mine and I was his, and everything made perfect sense.

I drifted off to sleep, or passed out, or maybe I just let go of everything and lost myself in being his.

Epilogue

P
RODUCTION
had come to a halt, and I was taking a much-needed break and going home for the holidays. It was going to be Danielle’s first Christmas, and as I was her godfather, there was no way in hell I was going to miss that first. I had thought with Bo getting married that we’d no longer be as close as we had been growing up. I was wrong. I may not be there every day, but I was there when Danielle took her first breath, at her christening, and now I’d be there for her first Christmas. The special moments we still shared. And I had been right—like there was any doubt of that—Bo was an amazing dad. He hadn’t even dropped her on her head once.

I stretched out on the couch, cup of coffee in my hand, and enjoyed my last quiet morning before I headed into the world of craziness, pinched cheeks, and squealing and busy baby. I picked up the folded newspaper from the coffee table and snapped it open.

The second I read the headlines, I jerked up, coffee spilling onto my bare chest. “Ow! Fuck! Ow!” I set the mug away and wiped frantically at the mess with my robe.

“What’s the matter?” Lance asked, rushing into the room, eyes wild, in just a towel wrapped around his wet and dripping body. “What happened?”

“I spilled coffee on my chest. I’m fine.”

“Christ, Danny, you scared the hell out of me.”

I rolled my eyes at him. “You panic when I get a paper cut or stub my toe.”

He sat next to me, leaned over, and kissed the angry red spot on my chest softly. “That’s because the thought of anything marring this perfect body drives me insane.”

I quirked a brow at him. “You mar me all the time.”

“Those are love marks, which only enhance your perfection.”

I swatted him upside his head playfully. “You’re such a big sap.”

“But I’m your sap.”

I pressed a soft kiss to his lips. “Yes, you are.” I started to reach for him, when I remembered the paper in my hand. I held it out to him. “Did you see this?”

Lance grabbed the paper; I read the headline again while he did.

E
X
-NFL S
TAR
TO
M
ARRY
P
ARTNER
ON
N
EW
Y
EAR
’
S
E
VE

Lance’s lips twitched into a cocky smile. “Cool! They called me a star.” He tossed the paper on the coffee table. “That’s more than they called me when I played.”

I stared at him in disbelief. “That doesn’t bother you?”

“Hell no,” he said, snuggling further into my side, one of his hands going to my thigh, rubbing. “What, you jealous that I’m the one being called a star for a change?”

I couldn’t believe how blasé he was about the headline. Lance had had a rough time coming out—his dad still hadn’t completely accepted his son was gay, and he’d lost a few people he had thought were his friends. But over the last year and a half he’d become a lot more comfortable with people knowing he was gay. Living in the New York theater district helped. No one really paid much attention to two men holding hands while they walked down the street or hugged in public. My friends, family, and coworkers accepted him without question, which helped ease him into his new life, but it was still like living in a bubble. I had thought he’d freak with the whole world knowing.

“You don’t care that it’s public knowledge that you’re marrying a dude?”

“I think the fact that I got down on one knee in front of the theater on closing night pretty much guaranteed it would be public knowledge.”

I just shook my head and laughed. “You have a point.” My heart swelled in my chest. It still amazed me that I had this big, powerful, yet gentle and sweet man, in my life. That in less than a month I’d be his husband and he’d be mine. I touched his face with the tip of my index finger, running it across his cheek to his lips. “Do you know how much I love you?”

“Yeah, I do.” He gently kissed my finger then clutched my hands, pressing them against his chest over his heart, and said confidently, “And, Danny, there is no Plan C.”

About the Author

SJD P
ETERSON
, better known as Jo, hails from Michigan. Not the best place to live for someone who hates the cold and snow. When not reading or writing, Jo can be found close to the heater checking out NHL stats and watching the Red Wings kick a little butt. Can’t cook, misses the clothes hamper nine out of ten tries, but is handy with power tools.

Visit Jo at http://www.facebook.com/SJD.Peterson;

http://sjdpeterson.blogspot.com/;

https://twitter.com/SJDPeterson;

and http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4563849.S_J_D_Peterson. Contact Jo at [email protected]

W
HISPERING
P
INES
R
ANCH
by
SJD P
ETERSON