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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, Sinclair was sick of one-night stands and ready to settle down with that one special man. However, as many times as he went out every weekend, he'd never found "the one".
Despite the horrific things he'd seen in his work as a mercenary, Sinclair knew, deep in his bones, that one day 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 some day he would meet the perfect man to fill the holes in his life, the parts so empty that some days he thought he could feel an arctic breeze rushing through his soul.
Depression dug at him with dull claws as Sinclair took another drink of scotch. His reflection in the bar mirror caught his eye. 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 look. 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 looking.
Why couldn't he find a man worth keeping?
"Hello, Sinclair," a soft voice spoke beside him. "Long time, no fucking."
Sinclair 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 man a speculative look, 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 always said "you don't find Mr Right at a skanky bar". Of course she said this to his sister, but the same rules applied.
He'd almost decided to take the man up on his offer when a stir in the crowd grabbed his attention. A slim blond walked through a group of dancers, and Sinclair felt his heart flip 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 Sinclair discovered a new religion and was ready to worship at its denim-clad altar.
As he watched, the fascinating creature approached the bar and settled several stools down from Sinclair. Trying to be unobtrusive, he watched the new object of his obsession talk 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 Sinclair would've happily paid money to see the man 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.
The other man followed Sinclair's gaze. "If you're holding out for Callum, you're wasting your time," he said bitterly.
Sinclair 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 having the other man near might deter the blond god of his dreams. As if he could feel Sinclair's stare, Callum looked up and locked eyes with him.
Sinclair gave the man a cool nod. He wanted to look 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, Sinclair felt the thrill of the hunt as the slim blond trailed his fingers across his bottle of water. He could almost feel the debate going through Callum's head on whether or not to approach Sinclair. Deciding a little encouragement might be needed, Sinclair crooked his finger at the little blond. There was no way he was going to let this one get away over a little miscommunication. Although he couldn't see the color of Callum's eyes, Sinclair could feel the heat of the man's stare.
After several moments of looking, Callum smiled and, like a slinky cat, sauntered toward him.
Halfway to Sinclair, the man's eye color came into focus.
The man who'd caught his eye and, even rarer, his imagination, had brilliant green-blue eyes, an eye color Sinclair had never seen before. Fascinated, he watched the blond approach.
* * * *
Callum's heart beat with thundering speed. The sexiest man in the room was looking at Callum like he had an aching sweet tooth and Callum was made entirely out of candy. Keeping his steps slow and languorous, he approached the gorgeous stranger while trying to remember all the tips about walking sexy an ex-stripper once taught him.
Judging from the heat in the other man's eyes, he was doing everything right.
"Good evening," the handsome man said when Callum reached him.
Callum took a sip of his water to wet his suddenly dry throat. "Good evening."
The man stood up, and Callum took a surprised step back. Sitting, the man had looked big; standing, he was fucking enormous.
Callum's modest five foot nine frame barely came to the man's shoulder.
"I'm Sinclair Alverston," the dark-haired man said, holding out his hand. "But everyone calls me Sin."
Callum took a deep breath before shaking Sin's hand. The large man had a predatory gaze that would make a tiger feel like prey. A tingle went through Callum at the skin-to-skin contact.
"Callum Turner," he said, trying to keep the excited tremor out of his voice. Sin was the sexiest thing he'd seen in a long while, and if the heat of their handshake was any indication, this man would be more than willing to follow him home.
Sin used their joined hands to yank him closer. Leaning over, he spoke directly into Callum's ear. "You are exactly what I've been looking for."
Callum swallowed the moisture suddenly flooding his mouth. Now he knew how it felt to be struck by lightning. Sexual energy arced between them, racing back and forth between their clasped hands. It took all of Callum's self-control to resist the urge to drop to his knees and worship the sexy god who'd chosen him for the evening. "People call you Sin?"
"All the time," the big man purred. "Want to come home with me and I can show you how I live up to the name?"
Callum shook his head. It might be a deal breaker, but his rule was firm. "I don't go home with strange guys. You can come to my house, but I don't go to strangers' homes. I had a bad experience once."
He suppressed a shudder. The memory still brought up nightmares when he got too tired.
Sin nodded slowly. "Okay. I'll leave that until we know each other better. Do you want to be with me tonight or not?"
There it was out on the table. Did he really want this dark-haired stud wearing leather pants and a tight t-shirt that showed off his massive arms and muscular chest?
Shivers of need went through his body.
Hell yeah, he wanted him!
Callum gave a shaky nod, grabbed Sinclair's wrist, and headed for the door, pulling the big man behind him. Before he'd gone more than a few steps, he was jolted to a stop. Callum turned his head as Sin pried Callum's grip off his wrist with a pointed look. Shit, he'd just met the man, and already he'd ruined it. To his surprise, instead of leaving, Sin wrapped an arm around Callum's shoulders. "Take it easy, honey. I don't like to be dragged."
"Oh. Sorry." Callum felt his cheeks flush with embarrassment. All his manners had gone out the window at the thought of getting his mouth and hands on the gorgeous man beside him.
"Don't be sorry," Sin said, wrapping an arm around Callum and tucking him beneath his shoulder. "I like that you're so eager, but there's no hurry. We've got all night."
"I'll try to take it slow," Callum agreed automatically. He wouldn't really. The quicker he dragged this guy to his condo the better.
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