Nathan wants to put a ring on it, but is Owen the marrying kind?
Two years on from their first date, Owen and Nathan are living together and life is good—except they’re not on the same page about marriage.
A traditionalist at heart, Nathan wants it all: the wedding, the vows, and a pair of matching rings. Owen, on the other hand, believes marriage is old-fashioned and unnecessary. They don’t need a wedding to prove their commitment to each other. Love should be enough on its own.
All it takes is one moment of weakness on a night out to force the issue. Owen finds himself engaged after a half-drunk proposal, and Nathan’s enthusiasm sweeps him along. But as the big day approaches, the mounting tension finally combusts.
If he’s going to save their relationship, Owen will need to decide once and for all if he’s truly the marrying kind.
Excerpt: (as at All Romance Ebooks)
“Come on, babe.” Owen slipped his arm around Nathan’s waist and squeezed. The warm weight of Nathan’s arm settling around his shoulders felt good. With the extra few inches of height that Nathan had on him, they fitted together perfectly like this. “I can’t wait to dance with you. It’s been too long since we got down and dirty on the dance floor.”
Their social life usually involved more pubs than clubs, but it was Jack and Simon’s stag do tonight, and dancing was definitely on the agenda.
Simon and Jack were walking in front of them. Jack had his hand in the back pocket of Simon’s skintight jeans, and Simon was cackling at something Jack had just said. They looked so happy.
Owen tugged Nathan closer and leaned up to press a kiss to his cheek. Nathan smiled at him, and Owen grinned back.
Life was good.
There was a long line to get into the club. It was late May, but it wasn’t warm tonight, and a light rain was falling. Owen shivered and moved closer to Nathan, resigning himself to a half-hour wait to get in. But Simon dragged them all to the front of the line and flirted shamelessly with the huge guy on the door, batting his eyelashes and standing way too close.
“It’s our stag do.” He gestured to an embarrassed-looking Jack beside him. “There are only ten of us. Could you possibly do us a favour?”
The bouncer looked Simon up and down—all five foot seven of him. His angelic blond curls were topped with fluffy antlers, and he had a pink feather boa around his neck, which he’d nicked from one of the drag queens in the bar they’d just left. Then he looked at Jack in his matching antlers, and his gaze dropped to read the text on their matching “Groom To Be” T-shirts. The bouncer tried to keep a straight face, but his lips twitched.
“Yeah, go on, then.” He jerked his head at the door.
“Thanks, you’re a star.” Simon threw his arms around the massive bloke and kissed him on the cheek.
“You’re welcome. When’s the wedding?”
“Four weeks today.” Simon grinned, putting his arm around Jack.
“Congratulations,” the bouncer said. “I hope you have a good one.”
“Cheers, mate.” Owen patted the guy on the shoulder as they trooped past. The bouncer’s muscles felt like solid rock, and Owen wouldn’t want to get on the wrong side of him. It was a good thing he clearly had a soft centre.
In the club, things got messy fast. Simon did a few too many vodka jelly shots off Jack’s body and needed someone to hold him up on the dance floor. Luckily there were plenty of them to take a turn. Jack made him drink a couple of bottles of water, and he gradually sobered up a little. By the end of the night, Simon and Jack were wrapped around each other like ivy, Simon riding Jack’s thigh while they kissed as if they were the only people in the room, their matching antlers still in place.
Owen was in Nathan’s arms in a blissful haze of just drunk enough, with a low burn of arousal building in the pit of his belly as they gradually danced closer and closer together until there was no space left between them. They kissed for what felt like hours without coming up for air before Owen finally broke away.
He pressed his lips close to Nathan’s ear to whisper, “I’m gonna come in my pants if we carry on like this for too much longer.” He licked some sweat off Nathan’s neck, the hot, aroused scent of him too good to resist.
“Yeah?” Nathan’s voice was a deep rumble in Owen’s ear. “What do you wanna do about it? I could blow you in the toilets?”
A jolt of heat shot through Owen at the thought of that. He considered it for a moment: a quick, dirty blowjob in a graffitied toilet cubicle, Nathan’s lips around his dick while he pulled on Nathan’s hair and fucked his mouth. It was tempting. But no.
“Let’s go home. I want to fuck you.” He spoke the words right against Nathan’s ear.
Nathan shivered, and his hands clutched reflexively at Owen’s hips. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah. That sounds good.”
They tumbled out of the taxi they’d managed to hail in town. The short drive back had been torture, all hot gazes and sneaky wandering hands where they sat in the back together. At least it was quicker than walking would have been.
Owen gave the driver a tenner and told him to keep the change. He needed to get Nathan naked and underneath him as soon as possible—or on top. Owen wasn’t fussy.
Nathan unlocked the door to the flat they shared now, and Owen pushed him up against the wall as soon as they’d got the door shut behind them. Living with Nathan was awesome, Owen thought as he worked Nathan’s belt and trousers open and pulled out his half-hard cock. Having the place to themselves meant they could do shit like this in the hallway, or the kitchen, or wherever the hell they liked.
He dropped to his knees and mouthed at the head of Nathan’s dick, teasing him with lips and tongue until Nathan groaned and gripped the back of Owen’s neck, forcing him to take more.
Owen unzipped his own jeans so he could get a hand into his underwear and squeeze his cock. God, he was ridiculously sticky already from all the grinding in the club. He resisted the urge to stroke too much. He wanted to be able to fuck Nathan once he got him into bed, and after all the booze, he might struggle to get it up a second time before he crashed out.
Nathan was close now, making little desperate whimpers as Owen worked his cock and took him deep.
“You’re gonna make me come,” he warned.
But Owen knew that Nathan would be able to come again when Owen fucked him, and he wanted this. He wanted to get Nathan off like this in the hallway. He was turned on by the desperation, by the ache in his jaw and the taste of Nathan on his tongue. He sucked harder and took Nathan deeper, gagging a little but not caring. Nathan’s legs shook, and he clutched Owen’s hair, his body curving down as he groaned and came, coating the back of Owen’s throat.
Owen pulled off and swallowed, stroking Nathan with his free hand until his cock began to soften.
“Bloody hell.” Nathan pushed Owen’s hand away and let his body slide down the wall until they were face-to-face, his legs bracketing Owen’s hips where he knelt.
Nathan cupped Owen’s face with his large hands and pulled him in for a kiss. Owen wondered if he could taste himself there.
When Nathan pulled away, he chuckled. “I thought you were going to fuck me?”
“Oh, I am, don’t worry.” Owen grinned. He stood up and offered Nathan a hand up. “So get your arse upstairs and get naked.”
“You’re such a romantic.”
“You love it, you tart.”