#MFRWHook – Even When I Hate You I Want You

Book Hooks is a weekly meme hosted by Marketing for Romance Writers as part of the MFRW Authors Blog. Readers have the chance to jump from one author to another who share hooks from their current WIP (work in progress) or any previously published book.

For this week’s edition of Book Hooks, I give you a teaser from Toy Soldiers, book two in the When We Were Young series, now 30% off at eXtasy Books.

Once a thief, always a thief, and if he can’t win the heart of the boy he loves, he’ll steal it.

Blurb: Billy Redsky’s made one of his biggest dreams come true, but there’s a problem. Even though the boy he loves is mere footsteps across the hall from his bedroom, they might as well live a country apart because claiming René Oshawee’s heart is more difficult than Billy anticipates.

Much to Billy’s disgust, René can’t accept his true self, so he’s incapable of loving someone else. And all he cares about is living a life the chief and his wife foresee for their youngest son.

If Billy is to finally have what he truly desires, he must stop René from running away from who he really is and face the man in the mirror, or what they share will never blossom into true love.

Genre(s): Multicultural, m/m contemporary romance, LGBT, young adult.
Heat Rating: Level 2
Publication Date: October 2, 2020
Publisher: eXtasy Books

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“I asked you what’s going on?” Mom’s question put Chrome Dome’s lecturing tone to shame.

“I—I…” If René told the truth, they might ship Billy off somewhere else. For sure the lush head would run away for the second time if he was stuck living in the city. Fuck, the things he did for this guy. “I—I took him out to a party…he had too much to drink.”

“You took Billy, who’s in grade ten, out to a senior party?” Mom’s voice was incredulous.

More heat of shame claimed René’s cheeks. He couldn’t look at her and stared at the step. “Yeah. It’s—it’s my fault. All my fault. I—I dared him to…dared him to come. He…uh…we razzed him about…not drinking…he drank…he, uh…”

“René Randall, you look at me.”

He forced his head up.

“I can’t believe you!” Mom shook her finger. Disappointment and disgust were splattered all over her words. “I really can’t. You know the adjustments Billy’s trying to make. You know better. I trusted you. That’s it. Get him to bed. We’ll talk in the morning. Your father is not going to like this one bit.”

She turned and huffed away.

René glanced at a swaying Billy. He ought to punch this fucker. Why had he put his own rep on the line for this ungrateful prick? With a tug, he hauled Billy up the rest of the stairs and into his room. They reached the bed. René gave the dickhead a good hip bump. Billy flopped on the mattress. His lids closed, and he mumbled.

The guy deserved to be left fully dressed.

René set his hands on his hips. As much as he’d love to leave, something inside him wouldn’t let him stomp to his own room. With a snarl, he unlaced Billy’s boots and pulled each one off. The ungrateful son of a bitch never stirred.

He worked off the parka and jean vest. All he had left was the clothing. His pulse points quickened. His mouth dried. Passed out, Billy was René’s for the taking.

No way. Uh-uh. There wasn’t a chance he’d break his personal promise, no matter how much his fucking crotch ached. All the damned thing did as of late was stand tall. Jerking off in the shower sure wasn’t helping either.

Mom was right, though. Billy deserved someone’s love and attention. He craved love. He gave love. He gave his love to…me.

Love René hadn’t wanted or asked for.

He backed up slightly. Nope, he couldn’t touch what tempted him beyond belief. What kept him awake at night. What made him reach beneath the covers and slide his hand into his own boxer-briefs.

He licked his lips and tackled Billy’s socks. They slid off easily. Billy had wandered around enough bare-chested, so removing his t-shirt wouldn’t cause what was hiding inside René’s sweatpants to catch on fire. He simply slipped off the garment and tossed it aside. Still, the guy’s smooth brown skin was pure temptation to touch.

All that was left was Billy’s jeans. René pushed his bangs aside. He could do this. Then go jerk off to his porn mags he kept stashed in the hollowed-out book in the drawers of his bed.

He leaned in. The smell of booze soured his nostrils. All the better. He needed to feel something gross instead of pleasurable. Maybe he’d luck out and Billy would hurl, too. Wait. Not a chance. Cleaning up puke was asking too much.

Whipping his head to the walk-in closet, René used the tips of his fingers to unsnap the buttons going all the way to Billy’s crotch. Perfect. Just perfect. Why couldn’t the guy have a zipper instead? He eased his fingers into the waistband and tugged.

Please let his underwear stay in place.

He kept staring at the closet door and tugged some more. Billy started snoring. Thank fuck. Someone must have heard René’s prayers. He tugged some more. With one final yank, he held the jeans in his hands. Not sparing another glance, he huffed from the room.

This was the worst weekend of his life. Tomorrow, he’d probably get his truck keys taken away.