him over, either.
Fine. But we need to talk first.
Very well. But why do I get the feeling that it will be you doing most of the talking?
Well, it’s you who’ll be doing most of the spanking, so I’d say we’re even.
“Most?”
Fine. All.
Then you’d best get here soon if we’re to have time for talking and spanking. I haven’t got all day to wait on you.
James’s jaw flexed and his eyes narrowed. That. That right there, Carson expecting him to drop everything and attend him. That was going to have to go, too. Better to draw the line now.
Fine. Maybe tomorrow, then. I’ll get back to you.
A long wait, then, sitting behind the wheel of his car. Finally, his phone buzzed one last time.
Call me when you’re ready .
James stared at the screen a moment, blowing out a long sigh. He’d almost expected Carson to take offense, despite his assurances that he’d let James set boundaries. But it had worked.
Maybe they could do this after all.
Smiling, James started his car.
Turned out, he was ready now.
Special thanks to Suleikha Snyder, who saved us from the black pit of misinformation that are baby name websites.
Heidi Belleau was born and raised in small town New Brunswick, Canada. She now lives in the rugged oil-patch frontier of Northern BC with her husband, an Irish ex-pat whose long work hours in the trades leave her plenty of quiet time to write. She has a degree in history from Simon Fraser University with a concentration in British and Irish studies; much of her work centered on popular culture, oral folklore, and sexuality, but she was known to perplex her professors with non-ironic papers on the historical roots of modern romance novel tropes. (Ask her about Highlanders!) Her writing reflects everything she loves: diverse casts of characters, a sense of history and place, equal parts witty and filthy dialogue, the occasional mythological twist, and most of all, love—in all its weird and wonderful forms. When not writing, you might catch her trying to explain British television to her daughter or sipping a drink at her favorite coffee shop.
Amelia C. Gormley may seem like anyone else. But the truth is she sings in the shower, dances doing laundry, and writes blisteringly hot M/M erotic romance while her five-year-old is in kindergarten. When she’s not writing, Amelia single-handedly juggles her husband, her son, their home, and the obstacles of life by turning into an everyday superhero. And that, she supposes, is just like anyone else.