Just the Right Notes
When things at Elliot’s firm begin to crumble, Graham needs to be the tough one, the one to suggest the cottage and the games they play there, knowing Elliot’s role as Dom will give him strength and that their games will recharge his lover. Together, they keep working to find that precarious balance in their lives—until an accident threatens to change everything. Elliot and Graham’s love faces its greatest challenge yet, and only the resilience they draw from each other can see them through hardship and keep the music in their lives.
This will be on pre-order soon and I'll share links then.
Here's a sneak peek:
God, what a day.
Elliot hadn’t realized quite how much nonarchitectural work would be involved in running his own firm. It wasn’t even like it was a big firm or anything. Him, two junior architects fresh out of university, and a secretary.
He pulled into the driveway and took a minute to admire the house. It really was beautiful, if he did say so himself. He chuckled as he got out, grabbing his jacket and his briefcase. It was probably egotistical as hell to love your own work so much, but he did.
Now, if Graham was just in a better mood than when he’d left this morning, his Friday night just might be salvageable.
He let himself in. “Hey, honey, I’m home.”
Well, that could be good or bad….
He wandered through the living area into the kitchen, where he found a half-full bottle of wine and a shattered glass. He was leaning toward not good, and a plan began to form in his mind. The bag was packed and it was late enough they’d have missed the worst of the traffic. An hour and a half and they could be at the cabin.
He headed for the study.
The light was on, Graham sprawled over a chair, score sheets crumpled and torn around him, tears streaking his lean cheeks even in sleep.
Oh, he didn’t think so. Enough was enough. If anything or anyone was going to torture Graham, it was going to be him, and Graham was going to love every fucking second of it.
Elliot turned on his heel and headed for their bedroom to grab the black bag from the back of the closet. He didn’t need to check it—it would have everything they needed. Every time they used it, he carefully repacked it when they got home again so it was always ready. He took it out and put it in the trunk of the car.
Back inside, he called his work number and reset his outgoing message to indicate he would be unreachable for the weekend.
Then he went to wake Graham.
His beautiful lover’s jet-black hair was loose, wild, and tangled, undisciplined and uncontrolled. He reached out, stroked a hand through it, and Graham’s eyes fluttered open.
Crouching next to Graham, Elliot smiled into the most amazing green eyes he’d ever seen. “G. Love.”
“Hey, El.” Graham reached up, cupped his cheek. “I… I must have fallen asleep.”
“Yeah. You had a bad day.” It wasn’t a question. “You’ve had a bunch of ’em lately.”
Leaning in, he pressed their lips together, tasting tears and wine and the intense, addictive flavor of Graham himself.
Graham kissed him softly and then leaned back. “The song won’t come out. I keep working on the bridge.”
“Well.” He stood and stretched and then held out a hand. “Leave it for now. You’re coming with me.”
“I am?” Graham’s long, talented fingers slid into his, the green eyes just beginning to wake up.
“Oh yes. You are.” He walked backward, taking Graham with him, grinning.
“You look wicked….” Graham looked back at the papers on the floor, that frown returning.
He let go of one hand to take Graham’s chin in his fingers and turn his lover’s face back to him.
“That’s because I am wicked.”
The lean cheeks went pink, Graham’s lips parting just a bit. “Are you?”
smut fixes everything