It`s time for Tuesday
Tales.
Today we have a snippet
from a new MM hockey romance book, Lost
in Indigo. In this excerpt, Mathieu Beresford first lays eyes on the all
grown up Indigo Neu at the airport after being discharged from the hospital.
Our word prompt today is
“Coat”.
Some kid ran past, screaming for his mother, nearly
knocking my stupid crutch out from under my arm. I called him something bad in
French but it sounded wrong to me.
“Did I say that right?” I asked Arn.
“Not a clue. I don’t speak French. My native tongue is
Detroit, remember?”
“Ah yes, you speak fluent Motor City!” I laughed aloud
for some bizarre reason.
Arn chuckled the entire way to the baggage claim,
which is where I first saw the grown-up version of Indigo Neu. Maybe it was the pain
killer still clouding my brain, but I don’t truly think it was. Indigo was the
most compelling, attractive, outlandish man that I had ever seen. That cute
flight attendant?
He was a slug in comparison to Indigo Neu. The kid had grown up well. Tall as me but much leaner, he stood beside Montclair, and while you could see the father in the son, the similarity in chins and the ebony hair were immediately cannonballed by the huge difference in appearance.
He was a slug in comparison to Indigo Neu. The kid had grown up well. Tall as me but much leaner, he stood beside Montclair, and while you could see the father in the son, the similarity in chins and the ebony hair were immediately cannonballed by the huge difference in appearance.
Montclair was all sturdy, dependable, workman with
short black hair and dressed in jeans, short-sleeved cotton shirt, and work
boots. Indigo was…well, I wasn’t sure what he was trying to say with his
clothes or the makeup. I could see he’d put eyeliner on and colored his lips.
Maybe they were just outlined and that deep pink color was natural. Kissing him
would reveal the truth. Suddenly I needed to plant my lips to his more than I
needed to suck in another breath.
Indigo’s hair was spiked up around a small black hat.
A derby I think they’re called. This one had a blue and black checkered band
that reminded me of hats the British police wear. His shirt was kind of a
dress. I mean, of course it wasn’t a dress because men don’t wear dresses, but
it sure looked like one. It was checkered like the band of his hat and hung to
his knees. I had owned a coat that had that same pattern once. Flannel it had been. Warm. Soft. Probably like his lips...
Christ above but his mouth was perfection. I shook free
of the spell his mouth held me in but fell right back into the lure of Indigo as
my eyes continued touching him. There were no sleeves on his jumper dress thing, so his bronze arms were exposed. Nice arms
they were, well-toned. I balanced on my crutches staring at his biceps for
ages. Arn was talking to someone beside me as bags moved past.
My eyes got dry. I blinked and ran my gaze from
Indigo’s arms to his legs. I love nice long legs on a man and even that part of
the college sophomore didn’t disappoint. His black legging shorts stopped mid-calf. He wore
blue combat boots with black laces. Not getting enough info, my sight roamed
back up him and settled on his mouth. He wet his lips and a rush of pure lust
hit me in the groin.
Copyright 2017
©by V.L. Locey
*~*~*
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