I sit next to my mom at the table. “So, he called?”
Mitch places my mom’s tea in front of her and sits at my other side.
“Thank you, love. You must be Mitch.” My mom holds out her hand.
“Sorry,” I apologize. “I should have introduced you properly. Mitch, this is my mother, Charlotte Chambers-Walker. Mom, this is Mitchell Hale, my boyfriend.”
They shake and my own face and neck heats up at the grin my mom is giving me as her eyes dart back and forth between Mitch and myself.
“What?” I ask, squirming uncomfortably.
“You’re in love,” she announces. My skin blazes at her comment.
“Mom!”
Mitch chuckles, patting my hand.
“It’s okay, love. I’m so glad you’re happy. And safe.” Her eyes go watery again.
“Don’t cry, mom. I am happy. Now tell me about dad and stop embarrassing me.”
She fiddles with her cup. “He rang me from jail. Your father wanted to be sure you had someone here for you after what happened.” I swallow thickly. “I’m so sorry, Gavin. I should have seen him for what he was a long time ago.”
“How could you have known?” I reply. “Hell, I don’t think he even admitted to himself until yesterday that he was gay. He probably still hasn’t.”
“I don’t mean that part, Gavin. I mean how cruel and mean he was,” my mom explains. “I was afraid he’d get his Hollywood lawyers to take you away from me so I ignored it for longer than was proper.”
“Mom, it’s in the past. I’m better, I’ve moved on, and I’m happy.” I glance at Mitch and smile. “In the end, Dad did defend me against that sick bastard so that’s really more than I’d ever gotten from him before.”
“You’re right, love. It’s the past. My trip was frightfully long. Do you mind if I have a kip?”
Mitch laughs at her British phrasing, probably thinking of his own mother. “Not at all, mom. I’ll show you the guest room.”
“I’ll get your bags, Charlotte. Don’t want Gavin ripping any stitches,” Mitch says, jumping up from his seat.
My mom grabs my arm, holding me back. “He’s a keeper, Gavin,” she whispers. “And quite cute.” She pokes me in the side and I laugh. “Don’t let that one get away.”
We climb the stairs, my arm around my mom and my gaze fixed on Mitch’s perfect ass in front of me. “Don’t worry mom. I have no intention of letting him go.”
Once my mom is settled, we go back into the bedroom to clean up. “I feel disgusting,” Mitch says, his nose wrinkles while he peels off his clothes.
“You look delicious.” I pull off my own bloodstained shirt and step over to Mitch, leaving only an inch between us. Grabbing his waistband, I yank him forward to close the gap. Mitch gasps when our groins collide. “I have something for you,” I whisper, circling his ear with my tongue.
Goose bumps rise on Mitch’s skin. I glide my hands up and down his back, loving the way he shudders from my touch. Mitch grinds our hardening cocks together. “I have something for you too,” he groans.
Laughing, I reach into my pocket. “Not that!” His face falls. “Well, yeah, you can have that, but it’s not what I meant.”
“Oh. Then what is it?” Mitch bites his lower lip adorably. I want to suck that lip into my mouth and run my tongue all over it. My cock gets harder, making it difficult to focus.
“Stop distracting me.” I take his hand and put it palm up between us, placing the object in the center. “Here, I saw you put it back on my nightstand. I don’t need this anymore.”
Mitch looks in his hand and his eyes snap back up. “Are you sure?”
I nod. “I have you. That’s all I need to feel safe.”
Mitch’s grey eyes soften. He blinks and a spark of mischief appears. “Who knew you were such a romantic? What’s next? Are you going to write me a love song?”
“You jerk,” I say affectionately. “Let’s shower, you stink.”
“Fine,” Mitch calls over his shoulder as he heads for the bathroom. “But I’m not giving up hope on that love song.”
I follow that hot ass and muscled back and wonder what Mitch would say if he knew that I already wrote him one.
I snicker to myself, earning a playful glare from Mitch. Guess I’ll find out. We start recording next month.
* * *
One year later
AP— Sphere of Irony won three Grammy Awards last night including one for Song of the Year with their hit, Utah, You’re My Home. When asked which band member has a fondness for the state in the title of the song, front man Adam Reynolds only said, “Who needs a reason? What’s not to like about Utah?”
The end.
* * *
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Thank you!
Thanks for reading Resist. I hope you enjoyed it!
Continue reading for an excerpt of Relatively Famous, Book 1 in the Famous Series.
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Book Links
Killer (a dark romance)
Rockstar Romance (Sphere of Irony)
Incite — Adam
Strike — Dax
Resist — Gavin (M/M)
Wreck — Hawke
The Famous Series
Relatively Famous
Absolutely Famous
Extremely Famous
Already Famous (Drew’s POV)
Suddenly Famous (a novella)
Reluctantly Famous (a novella)
Ricochet— Military Romantic Suspense
Locked & Loaded
Friendly Fire
Extraction Point
As Leigh Carman- M/M Romance
Sports of the Seasons -by Dreamspinner Press 2016
Match Point- Volleyball (Summer)- July 20th, 2016
Fair Catch- Football (Fall)
Power Play- Hockey (Winter)
Full Count- Baseball (Spring)
Continue down to read an excerpt from book 1 in the Famous Series- Relatively Famous.
About the Author
Heather C. Leigh is the author of the Amazon best selling Famous series. She likes to write about the 'dark' side of fame. The part that the public doesn't get to see, how difficult it is to live in a fishbowl and how that affects relationships.
Heather was born and raised in New England and currently lives outside Atlanta, GA with her husband, 2 kids, and French Bulldog, Shelby.
She loves the Red Sox, the Patriots, and anything chocolate (but not white chocolate, everyone knows it's not real chocolate so it doesn't count) and has left explicit instructions in her will to have her ashes snuck into Fenway Park and sneakily sprinkled all over while her family enjoys beer, hot dogs, and a wicked good time.
Relatively Famous Excerpt
The sudden screech of tires to my left makes me reflexively turn my head toward the sound, so when my foot hits a patch of ice on the sidewalk, I don’t see it coming.
“Ooof!”
I hit the ground, hard, and my right arm takes the brunt of the impact. Ow.
“Are you alright?”
A kind, well-dressed older man is walking around a black sedan to crouch beside me, his breath puffing out in soft wisps from the bitter cold.
“I don’t know.” I lift my arm and see that my long sleeved thermal jacket is ripped open. Blood is already dripping from a two inch gash showing through the brand new hole.
“Oh my.” He holds out a hand with a smile on his kind face. “Here, let’s clean you up.” The man
helps me to my feet and leads me to a battered metal door that says GYM across it in red lettering.
Everything I was taught about strangers as a child comes rushing back. I don’t know this man and this place looks a little rougher than I’m accustomed to. Digging in my pocket, I pull a napkin and show it to him.
“No worries. I’m okay. I can just use this.”
He chuckles at my sad attempt to refuse his kindness and gracefully plucks the napkin from my hand.
“Miss, you have blood running down your arm and dripping onto the sidewalk. What kind of man would I be if I let you leave in this condition? Come on. I know for a fact they have a first aid kit inside and can get you fixed up quick.” He holds up his hands to show he means no harm. “I promise.”
My initial hesitation evaporates with this compassionate man’s words. For some reason, he makes me feel safe in a fatherly way. A way I haven’t felt in a long time.
“Okay, I guess I do need a little help.”
He opens the door and as I pass through he grins, the fine lines around his eyes scrunching up into the grey hair on his temples. “I’m Bruce by the way.”
He’s so genuine, I can’t help but give him a small smile back. “Sydney. Nice to meet you Bruce. Thanks for taking pity on me and my clumsiness. I’m usually much better at staying upright.”
“It happens to the best of us,” he chuckles.
Once inside, I take in my surroundings. Surprised, I glance back over at Bruce. I’m finding it hard to believe that a guy like Bruce, in his dress pants and impeccably pressed shirt, frequents this gym. For one thing, it smells awful, like old sweat socks and industrial strength cleaner. Second, it’s quite obvious that this isn’t the type of gym that people use to stay in shape.
Taking in the huge room, I quickly notice that I’m the only female in this place. Not very comforting.
The remaining ten or so people I can see are half-naked men grappling or punching bags or beating each other up with their fists like the two guys in the huge center ring.
Mixed martial arts training, that’s what they do here according to the UFC banner that spans the back of the room, covering up the dreary, chipped cinderblocks that make up the walls.
“Damien!” Bruce calls out, waving someone over.
The two men in the cage immediately stop fighting to stare at us. Both of them hop down the small set of stairs and trot over. I have no idea which one is Damien, but I can’t take my eyes off of the fighter in the black and red shorts with the green eyes. He is beyond attractive—he’s positively stunning.
I feel the prickly heat creeping up my neck and face. I wish I could disappear. It’s humiliating to be standing here in front of these two hot, sweaty men while my blood drips on the floor. Not to mention the rest of the gym, which has gone silent to watch.
“Can you grab the first aid kit?” Bruce asks. “She fell on some ice out front. Cut her arm pretty bad.”
The man with the buzz cut and tattoos wearing black and yellow shorts nods and hurries off to fetch it. That must be Damien.
The other guy, the too-beautiful one, is eyeing me warily. Which, in turn, makes me even more uncomfortable.
“I’m sorry to interrupt,” I blurt out awkwardly.
The man says nothing. Instead, he stares at me as if he’s afraid of me! I have no idea what to make of that, so I stand there bleeding since it’s all I can do.
“Here.” He hands me a small towel. “So you won’t drip everywhere.”
His voice is deep and smooth. When his hand brushes against mine to hand me the towel, a shiver goes up my spine. Fumbling from nerves, I wrap it around my arm the best as I can.
“Thanks.” I stare at the ground, glancing up to take a peek at his handsome face. He’s acting really odd, wary, like me. But I’m the one in the strange situation surrounded by men I don’t know. Why would he be uncomfortable?
Not knowing what else to do, I go for mindless pleasantries. “I’m Sydney.”
The beautiful man gives me another strange look before introducing himself… albeit reluctantly. “I’m Drew. So you fell?”
Either I’m so inept that he’s dying to get away from me, or this guy is really off his game. There’s no way a man who looks like that isn’t smoother at making small talk with women.
I shrug, which sends a burning hot spike of pain down my arm. “I fell. It’s no big deal, really.” I wince from the sensation, my voice coming out strained. “Nice to meet you, Drew.”
Bruce and Drew exchange a look. “Have we met before?” Drew asks hesitantly.
I pull down my brows, trying to place him. I don’t think I know him. Do I? Oh my god! What if he recognizes me because of my resemblance to my mother?
I need to get out of here before one of them figures it out.
“No. I don’t think we’ve met.”
Now Drew looks absolutely dumfounded. His perfect lips fall open in shock.
Let it drop, please let it drop.
I can’t have this guy to figuring out who my parents are, who I am. I’m pretty sure we’ve never met. There’s no way I would forget his unbelievable face and body if we had.
Damien jogs up to us with a large white box. “Got it.”
“I’ll do it,” Drew says, his green eyes penetrating mine as he snatches the kit from Damien’s hands. He doesn’t look away, that powerful gaze trapping me in place. “Bruce, thanks for bringing her in. I’ll be out in a few minutes.”
Bruce must be his driver, now everything makes sense. He’s most likely waiting for Drew to finish his workout.
“You sure?” Damien asks. Drew turns to scowl at him, Damien shrugging his shoulders in response, “Okay man, I’ll see you later?”
“Yeah, I’ll be here.” Drew has that intense stare aimed back at me as he speaks. The noise of the gym starts back up, a cacophony of grunts and punches. Suddenly, I’m alone with this beautiful man.
“Here, sit down.” He points to a nearby bench.
Mesmerized, I do as he says and watch as he kneels in front of me. Still shirtless, I track his lean, sinewy muscles as they stretch and flex in front of me in a tantalizing dance. He’s close enough to touch. I want to lean in and lick every hard ridge of his body. It’s literally torture to sit this close to him.
Drew places the kit on the bench and opens it up.
“Let’s see what you did.” His gruff tone has been replaced with kindness. It helps to relax me, but only somewhat. I’m still nervous to have this very intimidating man so close. I watch those intelligent green eyes flick up to mine before he focuses back on my injury. Drew puts one of his large, tape wrapped hands around my wrist and I gasp when a heart-stopping rush of heat travels up my arm.
Wow!
Drew pauses before carefully removing the towel to assess my wound.
“It isn’t that bad. It’s big, but not deep, so it shouldn’t leave a scar or anything.” Drew looks at me and smiles, “Wouldn’t want to ruin that perfect skin.”
My heart stops when he smiles at me. He has brilliant white teeth and full lips, light stubble covers his angular jaw. I notice that his eyes aren’t the green I originally thought, but green with a dark ring of brown in the center. What does me in is the single dimple that appears on his right cheek when he smiles.
The heat I felt in my arm has taken root and begins to grow. What started as a small burn is rapidly building into a smoldering fire. I shift uncomfortably on the bench, hoping to rein in the urge to tackle him to the ground and grind on his hard body.
Sydney, whatever has gotten in to you needs to stop right now.
“Take off that jacket while I get what I need.”
Aren’t we bossy.
I finally stop my gawking and do as he asks.
When Drew turns away to rummage through the first aid kit, I let out the breath that I’d been holding in an attempt to keep him from noticing how heavy my breathing has become.
“Here.” His deep, calm voice wraps around me
like a warm blanket. “This may sting. I’m sorry Sydney.” Drew’s eyes look pained as he presses a cold, wet gauze pad to my arm.
I flinch, unable to stop myself from hissing when the antiseptic hits my skin.
“I’m sorry,” he says again.
“It’s okay.” It seems that Drew feels genuine remorse for hurting me even though he’s the one helping me. He’s sensitive, caring. A contradictory quality for a man who hits other people for fun.
Drew reaches back into the kit and pulls out a large bandage and some gauze. Laying it on my arm, he wraps it up quickly and efficiently.
“Looks like you’ve done this before.” I grin at the professional job he did on my wound.
“Yeah, a few times….” Drew glances up at me and stops. I watch as his eyes dilate and his lips part. The smoldering fire grows larger, turning into a raging inferno inside me.
Drew shakes his head and looks away, putting back everything he took out of the kit.
I’m about to pull away from his grasp when he sucks in a pained breath and clutches my wrist a little tighter. Drew trails a long, rough finger from my thumb to my elbow, following along the jagged pink path of a very old scar.
“What happened?” he whispers.
Instinctively, I yank my arm away, swallowing down the lump that has formed in my throat.
“Nothing, I’m fine.” Without any explanation, I jump up and wrap my arms around my stomach to keep from falling apart. “Thank you for fixing me, I really appreciate it.”
Memories I’ve repressed for years come flooding back. I bolt for the door, keeping my head down so Drew won’t see the unshed tears that threaten to fall. I don’t discuss that scar, not with anyone.
“Wait!”
I stop right before I get to the door, but can’t bring myself to turn around. I don’t want to go to pieces in front of this beautiful stranger.