Dreaming of You:
Noah Kinkade is an up and coming designer, one of the best newcomers in the field. When he is hired to restore the old Seevers mansion to its former glory, he thinks all his dreams have come true. He doesn’t know how right he is.
Sebastian Seevers has been waiting for over a hundred years for his lover, Richard. Kept apart by Richard's father, they'd planned to run away together that night, but Richard had not arrived, and pacing the walkway was where Sebastian had slipped and fallen to his death. Yet even in death, their love was so strong, Sebastian still waited for Richard's return. He had almost given up hope—until he saw Noah.
Excerpt: Inside the bathroom, he turned on the shower and slipped out of his clothes, leaving them in a heap on the floor at his feet. He quickly stepped under the flow of water as a sudden chill seemed to blow through the room. Must be colder out there than it looks, he thought as he closed the cubicle door behind him. Picking up the soap, he worked up a lather and moved the bar over his body, unaware of the ice blue eyes that watched him from the open doorway.
* * * *
Sebastian's gaze wandered over Noah's lithe body as the young man washed under the strange contraption. He'd waited so long. Some hundred and fifty years to be precise. But Sebastian had known he'd come eventually, that his patience would be rewarded. The moment Noah arrived he'd known it was him. Of course, he called himself by a different name, but it was Thomas; he'd been sure of that the moment their lips met last night.
He watched the bubbles created by the soap roll down Noah's pale skin and his cock hardened in his breeches. Reaching down, he palmed himself through the soft, striped fabric and hissed through his teeth at the sensations that sparked through him.
Thomas was wearing his hair longer now, but that was the fashion of the day, he surmised. The last time he'd seen him, Thomas's hair had been shorn off, the desperate act of a merciless father who thought if he disfigured his beautiful son, Sebastian would no longer want him for the degradation Thomas had detailed in his journal.
How wrong the ingrate had been. As if Thomas's looks mattered to Sebastian. He was in love with the man, not the wrapping. He closed his eyes as the memory of their last meeting washed over him. He'd been waiting then too, pacing up and down the rundown shack deep in the forest behind Green Oaks—their place.
A shared car ride home from college goes awry for Tyler the jock and “Supernerd” Eliot when they get lost in the dark on a country road and their vehicle stalls. Luckily, they find the Halfway House Hotel, where a series of odd events and unexpected urges seem to conspire to throw them together—and soon Tyler and Eliot decide that not having anything in common is no reason not to take a side trip of their own.
"I’m fine," Eliot said curtly as they made their way up to their room. He opened the door and threw the key down on the table inside the door. Tyler followed him in, closing the door behind himself. "Okay." Eliot turned to face him. "How do you wanna do this?"
Tyler raised his eyebrows in confusion. "Do what?"
"You know." Eliot nodded his head to the large bed, complete with canopy and curtains. "The sleeping arrangements. Do you wanna take the chair, or shall I?"
Tyler glanced at the wingback chair in the corner of the room and then back at the bed. Then he looked down at himself and then Eliot, measuring him from head to toe. "In that chair? Neither of us are exactly short, dude. I got driving to do tomorrow and I wanna get a good night’s sleep." He held up his hand as Eliot opened his mouth. "I know, it’s my fault we need to make up time, you don’t need to tell me again." He waved his hand at the bed. "There’s plenty of room for both of us, but if you want to be a martyr and get backache from sleeping in the chair, be my guest."
Eliot stood with his mouth open as Tyler stripped down to his boxers without any embarrassment whatsoever. He grabbed his wash-bag from his suitcase and walked into the en suite. Tyler closed the door behind him, and Eliot heard the water running in the sink, a thousand thoughts racing through his mind. The uppermost one being that he’d rather spend the night on an ironing board than with Tyler Andrews in the same bed. Eliot quickly stripped down to his own underwear and grabbed the folded-up quilt off the ottoman at the end of the bed. He sat down in the chair and pulled the matching footstool toward him with his left foot. He settled back and wrapped the quilt around him, trying desperately to look as though he was comfortable by the time Tyler came out of the bathroom. He wasn’t doing a very good job of it. The upholstery of the chair was itchy on his bare back and thighs, and the quilt wasn’t as thick as it had looked. He sighed heavily just as the bathroom door opened.
Tyler turned off the light and glanced over at Eliot in the chair, shaking his head in derision at him. He made a "whatever" motion with his hand and slid underneath the sheets. Then he plumped up the pillows behind his head and sank into them with a happy sigh. Maybe a little too loud a sigh, because he heard Eliot grumble something under his breath. "Good-night, Eliot," he said cheerfully. "Sleep well."
"Good-night," was Eliot’s bitten-out response.
It couldn’t have been much time later when Tyler sat up in the bed and complained, "Eliot, if you don’t get your ass in this bed right now, I am either going to throw you in it myself or kill you, the choice is yours."
"What’s your problem?" Eliot said crossly, as he tried to tuck the quilt in closer around himself for the hundredth time since he’d sat down in the chair.
"You’re driving me nuts with all the huffing and puffing, dude. You’re obviously not comfortable, and neither of us are gonna get any sleep with you in that goddamn chair!" Tyler’s voice rose slightly higher with each word. "So get your ass in here before I flip out and have to explain to your mother when I drop you off why I beat the ever-loving crap out of you!" Tyler threw his head back against the pillows and turned over onto his side. "Thank God," he breathed a few moments later when he felt the bed beside him dip as Eliot slid under the covers. "Now maybe we can get some sleep." Tyler sighed heavily and closed his eyes, his lips curving upward as he imagined Eliot perched on the edge of the mattress, holding the covers around him like a Victorian maiden. "Don’t worry, dude," he drawled sleepily. "Your virtue is safe with me."
Eliot frowned grumpily into the darkness of the room and turned over onto his side, his back to Tyler. He had to admit that the bed was certainly a lot comfier than the chair, but he would still rather not have Tyler Andrews close enough to be able to feel the heat that was coming off the taller boy’s body. Jesus, he’s like a goddamn furnace, he thought to himself, shifting a little closer, but still not close enough to touch. Just for warmth, you understand, he whispered to his inner voice, which was laughing hysterically at him right now. Sure Eliot, whatever gets you through the night, dude, it whispered back. "Shut up," Eliot said aloud into the stillness of the room, earning himself a mumble and a growl of his name from Tyler. He sighed and closed his eyes, hugging his arms around his pillow and allowing the even sound of Tyler’s breathing to lull him to sleep.