“How do you feel?” Raul asked. Angelo burrowed closer, his cheek pressed against the soft black cotton of Raul’s T-shirt. “Drunk.”  His eyelids felt heavy and there was a strange and wonderful lightness in his head. Tension? Stress? He couldn’t remember what those things were. “High maybe? I dunno. Gooood.” The rumble of Raul’s laugh under his ear was as warm and comforting as his hug. “It was okay then?” “Okay?” Angelo wanted to sit upright and give Raul an incredulous look,

“I’m very put out that you won’t tell me who keeps texting you,” Kevin said. There was no mistaking the pouting tone to his voice. I watched Lucien silence his phone and sit upright, his gaze sliding over me with the barest contact. “I told you, Kevin, it’s nothing important.” Ouch. I’d be hurt if I thought that dismissive tone and statement were true. Lucien was a damn good actor. Next to me, Lizette Pond—the producer—droned on about budgets and cutting back on the scale of

The pressure of the thick leather collar against the back of Drew’s neck was the only thing keeping him anchored.  His head felt like it was floating, his eyes vaguely unfocused as the tug of the leash brought them closer together. Nick rested his forehead against Drew’s. “You were perfect, boy.” Warmth kindled in Drew’s chest at the deep rumble of Nick’s voice.  God, all Drew wanted was to please his boyfriend and Dom. They’d been together two years, but tonight at the club

Summary: Sworn to have their lover’s back, front, or any other side that needs covering. Secret Service agent Kent Sinclair, head of POTUS security, thought himself prepared for every contingency. Until the First Lady—a woman who barely tolerates his presence—approaches him with a request that startles the hell out of him. Carlene Broderick is frightened. With the weight of the country and impending war on his shoulders, her husband, James, is buckling under the strain. The k