by Tara Lain
Table of Contents
Blurb
Dedication
Chapter ONE
Chapter TWO
Chapter THREE
Chapter FOUR
Chapter FIVE
Chapter SIX
Chapter SEVEN
Chapter EIGHT
Chapter NINE
Chapter TEN
Exclusive Excerpt
More from Tara Lain
About the Author
By Tara Lain
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Copyright
Love You So Hard
By Tara Lain
A Love You So Story
Craig Elson’s life has hit rock bottom. Even though he’s one of the best strategic planners around, a more confident guy takes credit for his work, and despite being a good-looking man, he suffers insults from the slimiest creep at the bar. Taking care of his beloved mom, who has Alzheimer’s, uses all his funds, leaving him in a plain, depressing car… and a plain, depressing life.
Until he sees gorgeous grad student Jesse Randall and his T-shirt that reads “I Would Bottom You So Hard.” The message seeps into Craig’s soul, and he asks Jesse to teach him to top.
Jesse’s had his eye on the quiet hottie who comes into the coffee shop, and he’s more than eager to perfect his tutoring. He sets out to get Craig a new job, a new apartment, and a new life so far outside plain and depressing that it’s unrecognizable. The problem is, Craig loves his lessons—and his teacher—too much to want to graduate. How can Craig reach the top without losing his sassy bottom?
To the MM Romance Group of Goodreads and all the group’s wonderful readers who first took this story to your hearts! Thank you.
Chapter ONE
FIVE MORE minutes.
Craig took a sip of his latte and forced himself to lean against the coffee shop wall and stare at his phone screen. If the guy didn’t come in five minutes, he had to leave and get to work.
This was a huge day. That promotion would make the difference in—well, everything. But the guy was his good-luck charm. He really didn’t want to miss him. Maybe the kid would wear that shirt stretched across his lean chest. Craig swallowed hard and sipped the coffee.
Craig looked up as the door opened, then sighed softly when he saw a woman with two kids. The little boy and girl were pulling on her arms and yelling at each other. She got in line and let the two kids go. The boy grabbed for his sister, missed, flew across the store, and smashed into Craig’s legs. Craig grabbed his latte, dropped his phone, coffee splashed, and he jumped back to keep it off his suit. The woman behind him hollered and pushed him as his foot sank down on her toe.
Turning, he came face-to-face with her frown. He mirrored it. “I’m so sorry!”
A scream ricocheted off the walls, Craig looked back to see the kid in a heap on the floor, yelling his lungs out as people stared at Craig like he was a child molester.
The mother rushed over, grabbed the kid up in her arms, and carried him back to the line. No apology, no recognition of Craig’s existence. Jesus, what the hell was he? Invisible? He knew the answer to that one. His father had certainly told him often enough. With a sigh he reached down for his phone. Somehow it wasn’t broken.
He glanced at the door and then at his watch. Damn. Two more minutes.
People in the line chatted as they waited for Ida and Will to serve them. Craig didn’t actually know Ida and Will, but he’d heard him—the kid in the T-shirt—say their names a couple of times.
Thirty seconds. Come on—
The door pushed open. Oh yes, thank you, God. Every time, it was like some commercial on television for perfume or something. Time slowed down. The guy’s long, black-denim-clad leg stretched through the door, the fabric tightening across his thigh muscles. Another step and the jeans cupped his package like a jeweler showing off a diamond. The guy wasn’t real tall. Maybe five foot ten—inches shorter than Craig—but he added up to Craig’s idea of perfection.
That face. Half god, half elf. On the one hand, he had high cheekbones and a nicely shaped jaw. Real architectural. But that was in total contrast to the bright, crinkly eyes, the turned-up nose, and dishwater-blond hair that looked like it had been hacked into submission with a lawnmower—a very sexy lawnmower.
Craig sighed. Above the jeans, the guy wore a windbreaker with the hem of a white polo shirt sticking out. No black T-shirt. No shirt of Craig’s dreams. The shirt that ran through his mind as he sat at his desk working out strategic plans.
The one that said I Would Bottom You So Hard.
The kid had only worn it once that Craig had seen. That was all it took. Sure, he would have noticed this guy no matter what. He was that delicious. But he was also maybe twenty-one or twenty-two, which was at least four or five years too young for Craig. But the shirt. He saw it and the promise seeped right into his heart. His soul.
I would bottom you so hard. Damn, no one ever let Craig top. In thirty-two years of life, he’d never once topped. Even though he was tall, there was just something about him that screamed Shove my feet over my head and fuck me. Hell, he wasn’t complaining exactly. At least he got fucked—sometimes. But nobody thought of him as a top. Anywhere. He wasn’t even sure he bottomed hard.
The kid danced in the line. He didn’t have earbuds in, so he must be dancing to the music in his head. Craig glanced at his watch. He should go, but it was hard to leave that flexing ass. What would it be like to push his cock into that cute crack outlined between the denim pockets?
Whoa! He adjusted his suit coat over his bulge.
The kid’s pretty voice sang out—a little high but still real masculine. “Hey, Ida, babes. Do you have three caramel macchiatos for me, puh-leez?”
The older woman, heavyset, wearing an apron over her jeans and shirt, laughed. “For you, sweetheart, anything.”
Man, that was the truth. This was one of those genetically gifted charmers.
The man he’d heard called Will, who seemed like the owner of the coffee shop, leaned over the other end of the counter and waved. And then he said it. First time Craig had heard it. “Hi, Jesse. How you doin’, kid?”
Jesse. Jesse. Jesse. Perfect name.
“Good, Will. I got a few new students to tutor, so I guess I won’t be starving quite as much this month.”
“Hey, you’ll be out of school and making the big bucks one day soon.”
The kid laughed. Listening to that was a spiritual experience. “Oh yeah. Big bucks as a college teacher. I’ll be paying student loans till I’m fifty.”
Teacher. Students? Tutor? Oh damn, he wanted to stay and listen. This was the most the kid had said on any of his trips to the coffee shop. But Craig had to go. Couldn’t be late for his promotion.
He stepped away from the wall and walked toward the door. So hard to leave. He looked back. Bright eyes met his—and then they crinkled.
CRAIG GOT up from his desk. The announcement was calling. Might as well get in there and get a seat.
“Hey, buddy.”
Craig turned toward the door of his tiny office. “Hi, Howard.” Now there was guy who would be a top—if he was gay. Tall, handsome, didn’t know a stranger. Howard Landrew had it all.
Landrew smiled. “You got those ideas for the accounts you said you were working on?”
“Yep. Just have to print them out.”
“Could you do that?”
Craig frowned. “The meeting.”
“No problem. I’ll save you a seat.” Howard slapped the door twice and walked off toward the conference room.
“Well, okay.” Damn, he didn’t want to be late. Not for his own promotion. Still, sitting next to Howard would be fun. The big account executive got a lot of attention, so Craig woul
dn’t feel like part of the paint. Of course, he’d be included in this meeting. A smile crept over his lips.
He searched his desktop for the folder where he kept new ideas and strategic plans, found the file, and hit Print. He glanced at his email. A new one from that executive search person who sent him job posts asking if Craig knew someone to fill them. He clicked. Always interesting to see what was available. He scanned the post. Wow. A VP marketing job at ClearWater Tech. That was a great position for someone. Such a good company. But they were making a few marketing errors. If someone could change those, they could be huge. Who did he know who could take that job?
The printer stopped, and he walked over and grabbed the pages. Today he’d get his new job. Senior director of strategic planning. That would be great. A new office, twice as big, and more money he could use for his mother’s care. No one else was really a competitor. He excelled at strategy and had been developing most of the plans for the AEs for two years. It would be nice to get the recognition.
He stapled the pages and stepped lively toward the conference room. The big space was crowded. Howard sat flanked by two females, an AE and an admin. No empty chairs. The guy looked up at Craig, shrugged, and called, “Sorry. What could I do?” Then he held out his hands and wiggled his fingers. Well, shit. Craig walked past the people sitting and those standing against the wall and handed the papers to Howard.
The handsome face beamed up at him. “Thanks, buddy.”
Craig stepped back between two people as the CMO came in. Lydia Halls. His idol. She was only forty-two, and the chief marketing officer of InterTech. That’s where he wanted to be in ten years or sooner, and this promotion would put him on track.
She smiled around the room. “We’re having a little party this afternoon to celebrate, so everyone plan on staying. We have a couple of new promotions. First, Dacy Lin is our new account executive for the industrial divisions. Congratulations, Dacy.”
Craig clapped. Wait, that position belonged to Howard. What happened to Howard?
Lydia held up her hand. “And now for a bit of a surprise. While we don’t usually promote our account executives into creative and strategic positions, I’ve decided it’s time to think outside the box. I’m naming Howard Landrew our new senior director of strategic planning. He’s continuously impressed me with his ideas both for his clients and for the other AEs. It’s time he got the recognition he deserves. Congratulations, Howard.”
Craig shook his head. Wait. This couldn’t really be happening. It was too much like a movie. He stepped forward. “But I—”
Howard stood up. “I want to acknowledge the help and assistance of Craig Elson. The guy has been so generous with his sharing and support. Thanks, buddy.”
Everyone clapped. The sound echoed around him like bells in his brain. Someone patted his shoulder. Yeah, because he was such a great support.
Howard held up a hand and picked up the papers that Craig had printed. “Now, just for a treat, let me share a few new strategic plans for the divisions.” He started to read Craig’s ideas.
He could scream. Bashing Howard’s head in sounded better. But what could he do? If he claimed the ideas, Howard would just say they’d worked as a team. No one would believe the new plans came from mild-mannered Craig Elson. The man with the L word stamped on his forehead. Not when they had Howard Landrew instead. Hell, Howard probably believed the ideas were his. After all, he’d asked Craig to come up with them.
Howard kept reading, but Craig could barely breathe. He skirted past the rapt audience, left the conference room, and walked to his office. His head hammered as he sat in his desk chair and stared at the trashcan. This was it. His big hope—gone. Nothing was different. Nothing would ever change. Once again he’d let someone push his legs back and fuck him.
His hand seemed to move by itself as he picked up the phone and dialed.
“HR.”
“Hey, Mrs. Kruger, this is Craig Elson. I’m sorry, but I’ve had an emergency and need to use some vacation days.”
“Just a moment, please.” Music played. Her crisp voice came back on. “You have plenty of time available. You haven’t taken a vacation in years. That’s not company policy, you know.”
“Yes, I know.” He hadn’t had anything more fun to do than work or any money to do it with.
“I hope everything’s okay. Please fill out the paperwork when you get back.”
“Thanks. I will.”
He glanced toward the conference room. Most people were still in there listening to the guy who thought nothing of claiming Craig’s ideas as his own and taking the position that should have been his. Saddest of all was that if he went in and stood up for his ideas, Lydia might not believe him. At the very least, he’d be considered a troublemaker.
He grabbed his laptop, stuffed it into his case and walked fast to the elevator, pushed the button twice, and jumped on it when it opened. Riding down the six floors, he stared at the blank screen in his mind. What am I doing? No idea.
He walked across the parking lot until he got to his car and stopped. Gray sedan. There it was staring him in the face. His gray sedan life. Gay guys were supposed to be so fashionable and flamboyant. Jesus, he needed a drink.
Chapter TWO
TWENTY MINUTES of Orange County freeway battering later, he pulled into the lot across the street from the Hideaway, his favorite gay bar in Costa Mesa. It was early, but he’d go back to the Mad Men days and drink in the afternoon. He climbed out, locked the car, and ran across the street.
Inside, the darkness soothed him. Music played, but not the raucous dance tunes of the nighttime. This was something low and sultry. He climbed onto a barstool. The burly bartender quit drying glasses and walked over. “You’re early.”
Craig nodded.
“Bad day?”
“The worst.”
“Sorry to hear it. What can I give you to ease the pain?”
“Just a beer, thanks. Draft.”
The bartender walked to the taps, and Craig grabbed a handful of peanuts from a dish. What was he going to do? Why had he taken vacation? Why was he here? The bartender put the beer in front of him and went back to drying. Craig must not look like he wanted to talk. Probably true. What would he say? All he had were questions.
As it got closer to happy hour, the place filled up. Craig nursed his second beer. Not much of a drinker. Hell, not much of an anything. Time to go home.
A hand gripped his shoulder. “Hey, Craig. Good to see you.”
He looked up into the dark eyes of Nick Nederhall. “Nickel Nasty,” they called him. Nick was a salesman for some industrial company and probably a pretty good one, but man, he was a piece of work up close. Not bad-looking, but he had a reputation for fucking anything that moved. “Hey, Nick.”
“Can I buy you a drink?” He slipped his arm around Craig’s shoulders.
What the hell. “Sure, why not?”
“What’s a cutie like you doing all by himself?”
Jesus, what a line. “I usually come in alone. You know that.”
Nick patted Craig’s arm with the hand not wrapped around his shoulders. “And I always wonder why.”
Yeah, he wondered why too.
“You’re a great-looking guy, Elson.”
“Thanks.” He kind of knew he wasn’t awful-looking. Tall, slim, a touch pretty. “But that and five bucks will buy me a cup of coffee.”
“Oooh, sounds like we’re having a bit of low self-esteem.”
What other kind of esteem was there? “Nah. Just a bad day at work.”
“Sorry to hear that. What happened?”
He sighed. It might be nice to talk to somebody. “I didn’t get a promotion I expected.”
“Wow, that sounds like me. I was up for regional sales manager for the western states and—”
He was off, totally wrapped up in his own story. Craig said “umm” a couple of times, but no more attention was needed. After five minutes of solid monologue, he’d had
enough. He slugged down the last mouthful of beer. “Hey, I’ve gotta go.”
Nick looked startled and a little hurt. “Sure. Let me walk you to your car.”
Craig frowned. “It’s just across the street.”
“Gotta see that the handsome prince gets home safe.” He winked.
Shit, he did not say that. Craig shrugged, tossed bills on the bar, and headed for the door. Nick fell in beside him. The traffic had picked up on the street, so he walked to the light on the corner. Nick stuck like glue. As they crossed, Nick took hold of his arm. What the heck?
Since he’d gotten there so early, his car was in the far back of the lot. He just wanted to get home. He walked through the dim light with Nick holding on to his arm. When he clicked on the remote, Nick stopped and pushed him back against the car. Whoa. His butt slammed on the metal. Craig was taller, but Nick had a good twenty pounds on him.
Nick brought his face right next to Craig’s, blowing boozy breath into his nose. “Hey, baby. I’m so sorry about your bad day. Let me make it better.” He pressed his mouth hard against Craig’s lips.
“Mmmpft.” Craig tried to turn his head, but Nick reached up and grabbed his chin. The guy’s insistent tongue pressed against the seam of his lips. Craig shuddered and tried to turn his head the opposite way. That just got him a full-body press with a very prominent cock pushing him hard against the gray car. Okay, enough.
Craig grabbed Nick’s hand from his chin and yanked it away. Hell, he went to the gym. This guy didn’t get to manhandle him. Craig wrenched his face to the side and pushed against Nick’s chest hard. Nick stumbled back, tried to catch himself, lost his footing, and landed on his ass. The dirt lot was hard on that leather jacket. He looked up like he’d just been attacked. “What the fuck, Elson?”
Craig stuck out his hand to help him get up. “Sorry, Nick, but you were coming on a little too strong.”
Nick struggled up. “Hey, you let me buy you a drink.”
“So?”
