POP! BANG! FIZZ! A kaleidoscope of color erupted over the city, the twinkling haze of red, white, and blue illuminating the night sky. Standing on the chapel’s metal balcony, Tom watched the New Year’s Eve fireworks in silence, his gaze fixed on the spectacular pyrotechnic display playing out above him. Mesmerized by the exploding bursts of color, he didn’t notice the shadowy figure approach him from behind. When cold fingers entwined in his own, he turned, his eyebrows arching in surprise. But before he could speak, the familiar scent of leather and cigarettes invaded him, the warm mouth pressed against his lips lovingly seducing him with a tender kiss. An uninhibited moan vibrated in the back of his throat...low...guttural...the erotic hum of want and need pulsating throughout his body. His lips parted, inviting the plush wetness of the man’s tongue into his mouth. The tip lightly caressed his flesh, the slow, sensual dance of lust and longing awakening his desires. He pressed against the man’s muscular frame, blanketing him with his slender body. Aroused by the evidence of masculinity grinding against him, he moaned louder, but the sound was swallowed up in the depths of the hot mouth greedily devouring him. His pulse beat a powerful rhythm in time with the fireworks, the heavy staccato thud sending a rush of blood through his veins. Then, without warning, the soft, plump lips pulled away, the loss of contact leaving an empty void in his heart. Opening his eyes, he stared at the beautiful face before him, a shy smile tilting his lips. “Took you long enough.”
“Haven’t you ever heard of the thrill of the chase?” the man teased.
The low, husky voice sent a shiver of arousal down the entire length of Tom’s body. “You transferred here eight weeks ago,” he murmured, his eyelashes fluttering seductively. “That’s not a chase, it’s a marathon.”
Stepping forward, Booker wrapped his arms around Tom’s waist, pulling him closer. “I wanted to make sure this was what you wanted,” he whispered against the curve of the young officer’s ear.
The hot tendrils of breath against his skin sent another shiver down Tom’s spine. “It is,” he breathed. “I’ve never wanted anyone more in my life.”
Nuzzling into the crook of Tom’s neck, Booker’s lips pressed against the exposed flesh. “Happy New Year, Hanson. To new beginnings.”
Tom’s eyes fluttered closed and breathing in the intoxicating scent of Booker’s cologne, his face relaxed into a contented smile. “To new beginnings.”