So, my editor for Hostile Beauty and I have a pretty good relationship. As in, she doesn’t get exasperated when I want to re-write VAST PAGES of words, or when I text her asking about something ridonkulous, or when I forget she’s in a different time zone and email her at weird hours. We’ve worked on multiple projects together, and basically, she just gets me. And she forgives me. And she is just in general awesome. ❤ ❤ ❤
Which is why when she says things like “cut this chapter” or “I hate this word” I listen. I listen and I usually follow her advice.
I also ask for her advice. I asked her to pick the official excerpt for Hostile Beauty, the one which will go on the buy page. When I texted her about it, she texted back instantly. And I squealed and cackled and HOWLED with delight.
Because this was my favorite scene to write–more than the sex scenes or the first kiss even.
Andrew grinned as he pressed “send.” Okay, so maybe it was a little bit mean to send a suggestive text when he knew Levi was having dinner with David. But he really did want Levi to come over after dinner. He’d been thinking about him all day, wondering what guys like Levi did when they weren’t at work. That, and he kind of liked the idea of Levi getting hot and bothered over dinner. His phone buzzed.
He snorted back a laugh. Not so hot and bothered. Okay? He had to up his game.
He made his way to the bathroom and peeled off his shirt. He knew his body looked good—he worked out when he was tired, bored, frustrated, stressed. In other words? Pretty much all the time. It showed. He leaned back and tightened his abs as he got ready to snap the picture in the mirror. He turned his face to the side so most of his scars were hidden. On impulse, just as he took the photo, he reached with his other hand and pinched his own nipple. Then, he hit send and laughed.
He was lighter than air, giddy, high. When was the last time he’d flirted with someone? College? Maybe? Before the accident for sure. There had been a few disastrous visits to gay clubs over the last eight years, all of which ended up with him slinking out the door, alone, only a few minutes after paying the cover. Flirtation didn’t come naturally to Andrew.
Nothing that couldn’t be bought online with a credit card came naturally to Andrew.
His phone buzzed and he laughed again when he looked at the screen. One word.
He’d been hoping to get a workout in this afternoon, so he wore his running shorts. They were shorter and tighter than anything he’d be caught dead wearing in public.
Perfect. I’m half hard anyway, this will be easy. He held up the phone for another picture, stepping back so his shorts fit in the picture too. He thrust out his hips, knowing the resulting bulge in the front of his shorts was a little obscene. Still, he used his hand to outline it a bit. No such thing as too big.
The photo was lewd. It was completely unlike Andrew. But the thought of Levi opening it made him horny and happy, so he sent it.
He waited a few minutes wondering what he should do next—a photo of his ass, the top of his crack just sticking out the top of his shorts? He’d love to get a picture like that from Levi. Hell, he’d jerk off to something like that for weeks.
Levi didn’t text him back. Maybe it was a little much. Andrew growled his disappointment and headed for the treadmill.