Authors: Dev Bentham
Moving in Rhythm
Moving in Rhythm
By Dev Bentham
Mark Apolostolos should be able to have any man he wants. Handsome and smart, he’s also cripplingly shy, especially around attractive men. Tired of waking up alone, he’s desperate to conquer his insecurities and have a real, meaningful relationship.
He gets his first opportunity when he tags along to his sister-in-law’s dance class and lays eyes on the sexy instructor. Seth Miller has a way of moving that takes his breath away. It isn’t long before sparks fly and they share a steamy kiss, but Seth wants much more than just a casual encounter.
If Mark wants a real relationship with Seth he’ll have to come to terms with his sexuality—but will it be enough to break through the walls he’s built up around his heart?
43,000 words
Dear Reader,
It’s hard to get excited about the month of March. The weather in this part of the world isn’t quite spring, and if it’s still cold, can make a long winter feel even longer. There are no fun holidays to look forward to except the green beer, corned beef and cabbage of St. Patrick’s Day, and the school season is at a point where the kids are starting to whine about having to wake up in the morning and go.
That’s why I’m excited about our 2012 March releases at Carina Press. The variety and excellence of the stories give us a reason to anticipate and enjoy the month of March! The rich diversity of these books promises a fantastic reading month at Carina.
Kicking off the month is mystery author Shirley Wells, returning with her popular Dylan Scott Mystery series. Joining her book
Silent Witness
at the beginning of March is BDSM erotic romance
Forbidden Fantasies
by Jodie Griffin; Christine Danse’s paranormal romance
Beauty in the Beast;
and a romantic steampunk gothic horror that’s like no steampunk you’ve ever read,
Heart of Perdition
by Selah March.
Later in the month, fans of Cindy Spencer Pape will be glad to see her return with another paranormal romance installment,
Motor City Mage,
while Janis Susan May returns with another creepy gothic mystery,
Inheritance of Shadows.
Historical romance lovers will be more than pleased with
A Kiss in the Wind,
Jennifer Bray-Weber’s inaugural Carina Press release.
I expect new Carina Press authors Joan Kilby, Gillian Archer and Nicole Luiken will gain faithful followings with their books:
Gentlemen Prefer Nerds,
an entertaining contemporary romance;
Wicked Weekend,
a sexy and sweet BDSM erotic romance; and
Gate to Kandrith,
the first of a fantasy duology that features wonderful world-building. Meanwhile, returning Carina authors Robert Appleton and Carol Stephenson do what they do best: continue to capture readers’ imaginations. Grab a copy of science-fiction space opera
Alien Velocity
and hot romantic suspense
Her Dark Protector.
Rounding out the month, we have an entire week of releases from some of today’s hottest authors in m/m romance, as well as some newcomers to the genre. Ava March kicks off her entertaining and hot m/m historical romance trilogy with
Brook Street: Thief
. Look for the other two books in the trilogy,
Brook Street: Fortune Hunter
and
Brook Street: Rogue,
in April and May 2012. Erastes, who can always be counted on to deliver a compelling, well-researched historical, gives us m/m paranormal historical romance
A Brush with Darkness,
and science-fiction author Kim Knox makes her debut in the m/m genre with her sci-fi romance
Bitter Harvest.
KC Burn gives us the stunning m/m contemporary romance
First Time, Forever.
Joining them are new Carina Press authors Dev Bentham, with a sweet, heartfelt m/m romance,
Moving in Rhythm,
and Larry Benjamin with his terrific debut novel, m/m romance
What Binds Us.
As you can see, March comes in like a lion but will not go out like a lamb. All month long we offer powerful stories from our talented authors. I hope you enjoy them as much as we have!
We love to hear from readers, and you can email us your thoughts, comments and questions to [email protected] You can also interact with Carina Press staff and authors on our blog, Twitter stream and Facebook fan page.
Happy reading!
~Angela James
Executive Editor, Carina Press
www.carinapress.com
www.twitter.com/carinapress
www.facebook.com/carinapress
For Edward, in gratitude and love.
Social anxiety is a truly debilitating condition. I am indebted to a number of organizations and publications for their thoughtful treatment of the disorder, including Mayo Clinic, the National Library of Medicine, Social Anxiety Support (SAS) and Social Phobia/Social Anxiety Association (SP/SAA).
My editor, Rhonda Helms, has been gracious, helpful and very encouraging throughout this whole process. It is a better book because of you.
I would also like to thank my wonderful Zumba teacher, who consulted with me throughout the writing of this story and whose amazing hips were, indeed, an inspiration.
This story would not have unfurled the way it did without the help of my canine best friend, who curled up behind me while I wrote and he dreamed his dog-park dreams.
My first lesson in true love came from my childhood BFF. My life would have been monochrome without you.
And mostly I am grateful to my patient and charming partner, who showed me that love heals even the deepest wounds.
Mark leaned against the bar, a gin and tonic warming beside him. He scanned the darkened room once more. Nearing midnight on a Tuesday night, the pickings were bound to be slim, but he preferred it that way. The last thing he needed was for the press of too much human flesh to multiply the likelihood that he’d bolt with a panic attack.
He’d kenneled his dog and traveled to this town ostensibly for an applied mathematics conference and dutifully spent the day in sparsely populated lecture halls listening to research talks, taking notes and learning. He always sat in the back, as far from the other participants as possible, so that whenever his anxiety got overwhelming he could duck back to the hotel for an hour in the weight room. Still, it was exhausting. And unnecessary. While his department head was always impressed that he flew across the country to these conferences and thought it a sign of diligence and dedication to his work and students, none of the other online teachers ever attended. On the rare occasions when the department met in person, people would ask Mark about Santa Fe or Seattle or Tampa or wherever the last conference had been, but he knew they all thought him odd for going. But of course, this was what he really came for, to sit in a darkened bar in an anonymous city, hoping to break through his cocoon of fear long enough to briefly touch.
The door to the street opened and a tall, slightly bulky man appeared. He looked around nervously.
Mark’s heart rate sped up with that familiar mix of fear and excitement. He straightened slightly and caught the man’s eye. The guy visibly relaxed and Mark could almost hear him thanking God there was another manly man in the place. Mark sipped his drink, his eyes never leaving the stranger as he willed him forward. If he played it right the guy would never know how wrong he was.
As he got closer Mark could see that the man was older than he’d first thought. His hair was graying at the temples and there were lines around his eyes. Mark guessed he was late forties or early fifties. He hadn’t bothered to remove his wedding ring. Not that it mattered, but at least he was honest. And married men were simpler. Afterward, they were always as anxious to leave as he was to disappear.
Mark smiled slightly as the man settled onto a bar stool a few feet away. This part was never difficult, particularly with the ones pretending to be straight. They always gravitated toward Mark, his muscular frame reassuring them in a way a more delicate man never could. The trick was to keep them from starting a conversation. Mark could look cool, normal even, as long as he wasn’t required to speak. But the game would be up the minute he tried to sputter his way through an introductory sentence. His heart would pound, his face flush and his mind dissolve, suddenly incapable of coherent thought. Pathological shyness, Mark’s own personal hell, only fully kicked in when he tried to hold a conversation with an attractive man.
Over the years he’d developed a few tricks. So when the guy held out his hand and said, “I’m Jim. Can I buy you a drink?” Mark took his hand, held the guy’s gaze and raised his eyebrows.
Jim inhaled sharply and nodded. “Yeah. Where do you want to go?”
Mark shrugged, allowing his eyes to travel down Jim’s body and rest on the bulge in his jeans.
“Follow me.” Jim turned and started toward the back door. “There’s a place I know not far from here.”
Mark followed him through the back door and out into the alley. The August night wrapped around Mark’s shoulders. The alley smelled of garbage and piss. Traffic sounded in the distance, punctuated by the thud of their footsteps on the pavement. Mark watched Jim’s back and imagined the ass beneath the chinos. His own hard-on pressed uncomfortably against his jeans as he let himself tip over into that place where excitement won over fear and all he could think about was the imagined feel and taste of the man in front of him.
Jim turned sharply into a dark entryway. Mark followed and found himself in a small dark courtyard.
Taking his hand, Jim led him to the darkest corner. “This okay?”
Mark nodded and leaned in to kiss him.
Jim jerked his head away. “No kissing.” His voice turned hard. “I’m not gay.” He brought Mark’s hand to his crotch, rock-hard beneath the thin fabric.
Like hell you’re not, big guy.
Jim rubbed Mark’s hand against his cock. “This is what you want, isn’t it? A nice, big cock to suck.”
And God help him, it was. Mark unfastened the other man’s belt.
Jim leaned back against the alcove wall while Mark unzipped him. “Like I said, I’m not gay. But you guys sure know your way around a blow job.”
Jim’s erection sprang free of his pants. Mark knew he’d suffer the degradation of the whole scene later, but for the moment his entire attention was riveted by the sight of Jim’s cock, large and hard in the dim light. He fumbled with his own zipper. He’d been with Jim’s type before. If Mark wanted to get off, he’d have to do it himself.
Jim reached into his shirt pocket and produced a condom. As he ripped open the package Mark sank to his knees. He inhaled the scent of ball sweat and stared at the drop of semen glistening in the slit of Jim’s penis. Jim rolled the condom over himself and held the base as Mark leaned in, tasting the latex. Mark enveloped Jim’s cock. It had been a long time, months since he’d felt the sexual rush of touching, tasting another man. He played it out as long as he could, using his tongue and the rhythm of his sucking to bring Jim closer, then farther from orgasm. Too soon Jim’s breathing changed and Mark knew he was almost there.
Mark held his head still and let Jim fuck his mouth. His hand on his own cock stroked harder, in rhythm with Jim’s thrusting hips. Mark gave himself to the cock, hot and hard in his mouth, the smell of Jim’s sweat, the sight of his pubic hair thrusting toward him, pulling away. Mark’s hand stroked faster and harder and suddenly he was coming, spurting into the dirt between Jim’s feet. Jim’s fingers tightened in Mark’s hair and he pulled Mark close as he thrust deep. Mark gagged and tried to relax his throat so he could take all of Jim as he felt the pulsing spasm of the other man’s orgasm.
And then it was over and the awkward part began. Jim discarded the condom and shook himself back into his pants. Mark stood and did the same, not meeting Jim’s gaze. He knew from experience that now that it was all over, Jim wouldn’t want to look at him. He wondered briefly about the wife, whether she knew about her husband’s secret life. It was a double life Mark could have had. Ruth would have gladly married him and might even have been content with a man who seemed more interested in companionship than passion.
Mark watched Jim put himself back together. He didn’t look particularly happy. If Mark was miserable, at least he was miserable alone.
“You might want to brush off.” Jim gestured toward Mark’s pants.
Looking down, he saw something stuck to his left knee. He pulled it off. A used condom. Great. Evidently they weren’t the only ones to have found the alcove.
Jim shuffled his feet. “Look, I’m going to stay out and have a quick smoke. You go on back in if you like.”
Mark nodded and turned to leave. He doubted Jim would go back to the bar. After all, he’d already gotten what he came for.
His gin and tonic was gone by the time he got back. He left the bartender a tip and walked out. A few blocks from the bar he hailed a cab to take him back to the hotel. He sank back into the musty-smelling seat, self-disgust swamping him. It wasn’t the sex that bothered him. It was the sordid, impersonal flavor of the evening.
Well, what do you expect if you can’t talk to them?
His shrink, a nice elderly woman he had no trouble speaking with, had offered to prescribe medication for his social anxiety, but he’d read about the side effects: insomnia, nausea, memory problems and impotence. Impotence, for Christ’s sake, so what was the point?
It was after one when the cab dropped him off. He punched the elevator button, grateful for the silence. But just as it dinged open, a couple staggered from the hotel bar and waved to him to hold the door. He considered punching the door-close button and heading up, but then the woman called to him.
“Mark? Mark Apostolos? It’s Ginny Lindstrom. We were at Penn together.” She smiled.
He recognized her from graduate school. “Ginny.” He held the door for her and her companion, a small man with cropped hair and a goatee.
She stumbled as she stepped in, clearly not entirely sober. “Hey, how’s Ruth? You made an honest woman out of her yet?”
Mark punched the button for the tenth floor and shook his head. “We broke up.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” she gushed. “You were always such a cute couple.”
“Yeah. What floor?” His hand hovered over the keys.
Ginny peered at the board. “Fourteen, thanks.”
They rode in silence for a few moments. Ginny snuggled against her companion and Mark wondered if they’d known each other before tonight. Just what he needed, the opportunity to watch other people cuddle and coo.
Suddenly Ginny asked, “Didn’t you have a brother in Iraq?”
Mark sighed. It looked like she’d want to converse all the way to their respective doorways. He wasn’t in the mood, but what was he supposed to do? “Yeah, Paul. He’s home now, safe and sound. Has his own medical practice in Lacland.”
“That’s great.” The elevator slowed and the door dinged open.
Mark stepped out quickly. “Nice seeing you, Ginny,” he called over his shoulder as he strode down the hall toward his room.
Once inside the sterile beige room he sank onto the bed. If he thought about it, he could still feel the pressure of Jim’s cock against the back of his throat. But now rather than excitement, all he felt was revulsion. He kept picturing the cold look in Jim’s eyes afterward, the sour taste of his own self-recrimination. Why did he keep going back for more? He was like an alcoholic bellying up to the bar even though he knew the evening would end in disgrace. He’d stop.
Mark closed his eyes and imagined himself alone for good. It wasn’t the first time he’d sworn to never do it again but maybe this time he could make it work. He had a tidy life back at home, a great dog for companionship, his brother was only a phone call away if he needed to hear a friendly voice and there was always internet porn if he needed sexual release. He didn’t need to kneel on any more condom-encrusted sidewalks in strange towns for fleeting moments of contact with strange cocks. Human beings were meant for more than that.