So here is a snip it of Crashing Waves, the second book in a series tentatively titled The Warfield Hotel Series.
The room whirled and
stars danced before his eyes. Angrily, he wondered when this dizzy shit would
be over. Everything he'd eaten suddenly felt like lead in the pit of his
stomach. As soon as his stubborn ass stood, he knew it was a mistake.
He'd never realized
just how hard...hardwood floors were until he started falling on them. It was
somewhat of a relief to know that the dizziness was less when he was laying in
a crumpled mess on the cold hard floor. The bedroom door opening suddenly and
slamming against the wall behind gave Justin a start.
"Justin?"
The look of
interrupted sleep and distress mingled in Marcus's eyes. A dark shadow beard
covered his lower jaws on both sides of his face. Briefly Justin wondered low
rough it would feel against his own skin. He shook the thought off and continued
to stare up at Marcus from his prone position on the floor.
"What the hell
are you doing?"
Marcus's attitude did
not help the situation and only caused Justin to become angry. It was anger
directed at himself not at Marcus, though when he spoke Marcus flinched.
"I was trying to
go pee!" Justin answered bitterly.
"On the
floor?" Marcus chuckled as he came to kneel down beside Justin. His hands,
gently slipped around Justin's waist and helped him to his feet.
Once on his feet,
Justin extracted himself from the warmth of Marcus's touch. He saw the look of
hurt cross Marcus's face and quickly disappear.
"Do you need
to..." the question was left open ended.
"No. I can handle
this," Justin answered quickly. "The dizziness seems better
now."
"I'll wait here just
in case." Marcus's smile was thoughtful and considerate.
Justin headed toward
the bathroom one slow step at a time. Grateful that Marcus was there but that
he didn't hover over him made the trek a little easier. Justin managed to take
care of things without falling again. Lifting his mood greatly. Returning to
the bedroom to face Marcus didn't seem so bad. Hell, who was he kidding, it was
that bad.
Marcus hadn't moved
from his spot, leaning up against the footboard of Justin's king sized sleigh
bed. A glance at the red numbers on the clock by his bed, read eleven thirty.
It had been a long day.
"Do you need
anything else," Marcus asked as he pushed his ass off the bed.
"No, thank
you."
"Okay, good night
and you can yell if you need me...any help," Marcus corrected his words
cautiously.
Justin found that the
words were stuck in his throat so he just nodded his head. If he were being
honest with himself, he wanted to talk to Marcus. Wanted to know how things
were going for him. Had he moved on? But Justin knew, he didn't have the right
to ask any of those question. God help him, but he wanted to know. He knew they
needed to talk about a lot of things but where did he start.
Marcus turned and
headed toward the bedroom door. He stopped, took a deep breath and turned to
face Justin again.
"I almost forgot.
Robert Wyler called earlier. You were still pretty knocked out," he said,
then chuckled. "He wasn't too happy that I answered the phone. He said to
tell you he'd call back tomorrow and," Marcus hesitated then added,
"He said he'd take a rain check on your date."
Justin felt the heat
flood his cheeks. Damn it. He was forty years old. He shouldn't be blushing or
even embarrassed for that matter. Before he could say anything, Marcus opened
the door, stepped out into the hall then said over his shoulder, "I'm glad
you are stepping out of that self imposed closet you lived in for so long. Too
long. Robert is a lucky man." He never looked at Justin, just said that
and closed the door behind him.
So what do you all think? I'd love some feed back on this. Drifting Sands (Book 1 in the Warfield Hotel Series) is in the hands of my wonderful publishers and I should be sharing good news soon about it's release. Let me know what you think about Justin and Marcus.
Happy reading everyone!
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