Elvis Summers and his writing partner Holt have scored a fantastic gig—spending two months in romantic Buenos Aires while researching their old TV idol, Guy Williams, famous for playing Zorro and the futuristic, perfect father in Lost in Space.
What made Williams fall so deeply in love with Argentina that he gave up his acting career to move there in the mid-70s?
For years, the actor remained an icon as Zorro in Argentina, even though he died alone and under mysterious circumstances in his apartment in the lush neighborhood of Recoleta. As Elvis and Holt retrace the actor's footsteps, history and gothic romance seep into their souls. Elvis meets a hot local named Joaquin, a man with his own secrets and apparent fears. Elvis falls hard and fast for the sexy porteño, but after scorching nights of passion, Joaquin inexplicably vanishes.
Elvis desperately searches for him even as Holt tries to convince him that Joaquin was obviously not interested and that residents of Joaquin's apartment building claim no such man exists.
Feeling the ghost of Guy Williams accompanying him on his sometimes-frightening search, Elvis is determined to find the man he came to adore. Or will he, like TV's Zorro, find himself shattered by fate?
This book has been previously published and re-released.
“Let’s dance,” Joaquin said and licked my ear. Holy cat!
Ugh. Dancing wasn’t my thing. I tried to ignore the little voice in my brain from my teenage years that said, “how a man dances is an indication of what he’s like in the sack.”
However, I was feeling pretty relaxed and gave my walk a bit of a swagger as we pushed ourselves away from the bar. My cock did the Macarena in my pants as I walked, not quite straight, into his arms on the only available square inch of dance floor.
I felt a strong flash of guilt as I gazed across the room at Holt. He ran a hand through his hair; then I saw a dark-haired guy sidle up to him. They began to talk. I was certain I saw a smile there. Maybe his mood would improve.
Joaquin’s mouth swooped over mine, surprising me. Man, he was a damned good kisser. My whole body reacted to his passionate embrace. He commanded all my attention and seemed to come alive as our lips and tongues met. Joaquin sighed into my mouth, closing his eyes. His hands roamed over my body.
Though the beat of the music was fast, he kept me in his arms. He rocked me, his ass moving sensuously yet in time to the music. I was getting harder, my body alive with desire, but also, astonishingly, some actual style.
People gave us envious looks. This wasn’t dirty dancing. It was fucking filthy dancing. I panted as he dipped me, then brought me back up again. I didn’t know how, but we danced like we’d been doing it for years. He barely took his hands off me and, emboldened, I put mine on his gorgeous ass and felt his cock stiffen against mine.
We traded deep looks.
God, I wanted him…
