To the world, Flame portrays himself as a confident, world-acclaimed modern dancer but a devastating event in his secret past has frozen his heart. At first, he shuns the attention of rock star and famous author Harper Cole, but when Harper saves him from a life-threatening situation, Flame starts to thaw. After a very long time of not trusting anyone, he seeks comfort in the arms of the last type of man he could ever imagine loving — a Dom.
Harper’s gaze traveled over the young man. The smell of Flame’s sweat, fresh and intoxicating, drifted over him. His heart raced at the sight of lickable, smooth, hairless skin on the dancer’s chest, belly, and legs. He ran his tongue around his mouth, imagining the taste of damp, waxed flesh. A tattoo of a blue dragon wrapped around the delicious guy’s left side, disappearing around his back, and circling his waist. The long-forked tail curled tantalizingly around one thigh. Harper fought the overpowering desire to grab the offending towel obscuring his vision. Damn, he wanted to see where the rest of the dragon lay. Perhaps the dragon’s head rested in a nest of flaming red curls. Fuck, the thought alone made his cock rear up for action.
Apart from a body Harper craved to lick slowly all over, the young dancer had the face of an angel — well, not angelic — ethereal. The sweet thing would make one hell of a fae character in one of his stories. Although small, Flame had sculpted muscle — the kind that bunched under restraints. Hell yeah. Harper licked his lips. Over taut muscle stretched white unmarked skin — the kind that blushed under his flogger. Fuck, he would start to drool at any moment.
With a sigh, Harper lifted his gaze from the man’s delicious body and met a pair of inquisitive eyes. Harper shrugged, swiping the sweat from his face. “Sorry to stare, man. I recognize you from somewhere. Have we met?” He held out his hand. “Harper Cole.”
“Flame.” He acknowledged Harper’s handshake and continued in an educated British accent. “We haven’t met, but I get around. You may have seen me on TV or at the Lala.” He raised a brow. “I do recognize you. In fact, I’ve read all your books.” He waved toward Josh. “I thought Josh was you for some time. You look very much alike.”
Would you like to know me better, boy? “Yeah, we’re cousins, but my eyes are green.” Harper chuckled. “And Josh can’t write a word. He’s into photography as you probably know.” He gripped the edge of the bench and leaned forward. “Flame is an unusual name — it suits you. I would love to see you dance one day . . . Flame.” Oh yeah, dance just for me, sweet thing.