Tempting Sin

Excerpt From: Tempting Sin

Sinclair Alverston sat at the bar, nursing his scotch. Hot, sweaty bodies covered the dance floor, but his heart wasn’t in the show. Watching the same men primp and preen to each other like a group of rutting peacocks each weekend was getting on his last damn nerve.

At thirty-two years of age, Sin was sick of one-night stands and ready to settle down with that one special man.

Despite the horrific things he’d seen in his work as a mercenary, Sin knew, deep in his bones, that eventually he would meet his soul mate. His best friend and business partner, Patrick, thought he was certifiably insane—not a new accusation—but that didn’t stop him from optimistically checking out every man he met, gay or straight, short or tall. He didn’t know how his soul mate would come packaged, but he knew someday he would meet the perfect man to fill the holes in his life—the parts so empty he could almost feel an Arctic breeze rushing through his soul.

Depression dug at him with dull claws as Sin took another drink of scotch. He examined his reflection in the bar mirror. He wasn’t a bad-looking guy with his dark hair and eyes. Sure, his face was all rough angles, but a lot of guys liked that badass image. A rock-hard body added to his appeal, carved to perfection by a strict training and exercise regimen. The T-shirt he wore advertised his muscles to anyone interested in checking him out.

Why couldn’t he find anyone worth keeping?

"Hi, Sin, long time, no fucking."

Sin turned to see a red-haired man sliding onto the stool beside him. He’d played with the guy before. His name was Nate, or Ned, or something. He gave the guy a speculative glance, trying to decide if it was better to cut his losses for the night and settle for Mr Get-Me-Off-Now, or wait and see if there were better prospects. His mother had always said, ‘You don’t find Mr Right at a skanky bar’. Of course, she’d said that to his sister, but the same rules applied.

He’d almost decided to settle for the offered invitation when a stir in the crowd grabbed his attention. A slim blond walked through a group of dancers, and Sin’s heart flipped in his chest. Although he usually went for men in the six-foot and taller range, there was something sweet and vulnerable about the beautiful man who would only be six feet tall if he stood on a footstool and wore shoes with really thick soles. What he wore instead were black leather boots, a matching black leather jacket, and a pair of jeans so tight Sin discovered a new religion and was ready to worship at its denim-clad altar.

As he stared, the fascinating creature approached the bar and settled several stools down from him. Trying to be unobtrusive, he kept an eye on the new object of his lust as the stranger talked to the bartender. A moment later a cold bottle of water was passed over and money exchanged hands. The man moved with an unconscious grace, and Sin would’ve happily paid money to see him dance. The blond’s sleek, lightly-muscled body and smooth unblemished skin made Sin want to make marks of his own…with his teeth.

"No, thank you," he said absently to the redhead still waiting for a reply.

His almost-fuck-of-the-night followed Sin’s gaze. "If you’re holding out for Callum, you’re wasting your time," he said bitterly.

Sin tore his gaze away from the gorgeous blond. "Why? Is he already taken?"

"No. He’s just picky."

"Excellent. So am I."

He waved a hand, shooing the other man away. He didn’t have time for jealous twinks, and he didn’t want any company to deter the gorgeous god of his dreams. As if he could sense Sin’s stare, Callum locked gazes with him.

Sin gave Callum a cool nod. He wanted to appear interested, not desperate, despite the fact his cock was banging at his zipper and begging to come out and play.

For the first time in a long while, the thrill of the hunt surged through Sin as the slim blond trailed his fingers across his bottle of water. He could almost hear the debate going through Callum’s head on whether or not to approach him. Deciding a little encouragement might be needed, Sin crooked his finger at his prey. There was no way he was going to let this one get away over a bit of miscommunication. Although he couldn’t see the colour of Callum’s eyes, Sin almost burned from the heat of his stare.

After several moments, Callum smiled and, like a slinky cat, sauntered towards him.

Halfway to Sin, Callum’s eye colour came into focus.

Sea-green.

The man who’d caught his eye—and, even rarer, his imagination—had brilliant green-blue eyes, an eye colour Sin had never seen before. Fascinated, he watched Callum approach.