Persecution from Jason Truollo’s immediate family becomes too much—his stepfather’s backhand to the jaw is the final straw—and he heads toward the only family who had understood when he came out, his Uncle Raul Braga. When he gets there, he’s shocked when not only does his uncle welcome him with open arms, but he finds his uncle in a committed relationship…with a man. Not only that, but many of Uncle Raul’s friends are gay, too.
Finally, Jason feels like he’s found a place he fits in. Even better, he meets a man who pushes all his buttons, Michel McDover, but surely the sexy rugged mountain man can’t possibly be gay. Except he is, and he makes his interest in Jason plain. Deciding learning the joys of sex from an older man is perfect, Jason begins a torrid fling with Michel. A surprise encounter with some strangers in the woods makes Jason realize he may have far more to learn than he ever thought possible. For the hope of love and acceptance, is he willing to keep an open mind?
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“Any family problems I should be aware of?” Michel asked.
Swallowing another mouthful of whiskey, Michel waited as Raul seemed to think about how to answer, if the way he took a sip of alcohol and rolled the mouthful around his tongue before swallowing was any indicator. Michel knew he was being nosy, but he needed information so he could woo his mate, and he sure as hell wasn’t above pumping his mate’s uncle to get it.
“His mother Brianna flipped out when he came out, and his stepfather is a homophobe,” Raul commented. He snorted. “I have no clue how they both didn’t already know. It’s glaringly obvious.”
Michel frowned. “What’s that mean?”
“You’ll know when you see him,” Raul replied. “He’s very…feminine for a guy.”
Nodding slowly, Michel fell silent as he thought about that. He hoped it didn’t mean Jason was weak. He was a pretty big fellow and enjoyed rough sex on occasion. He didn’t want to have to pussy foot around his mate.
The sliding glass door opened, drawing his attention…and Michel just about swallowed his tongue. Out stepped a slender, barely dressed male. Yards of milky white skin begged for his touch, since the only clothes the man wore were the smallest pair of jean shorts Michel had ever seen.
The guy had short auburn hair—with more red than brown—that was in wild disarray, telling Michel it probably hadn’t been brushed after waking. He stood maybe five foot seven or eight, had lean swimmer’s lines, no body hair, not even a treasure trail, and his slender bare feet sported neon green nail polish. Michel had the oddest desire to lick and suck the man’s toes.
“Oh, um, sorry, Uncle Raul. Jared told me to come out here and start the grill,” the young man stated, glancing between them uncertainly.
“I’ll just bet he did,” Raul muttered under his breath. Turning toward Jason fully, he nodded at the grill. “Better get it started then.”
“Holy shite,” Michel mumbled.
Raul turned his back on Jason just long enough to quietly growl, “That’s my baby nephew you’re ogling, asshole.”
Michel frowned at Raul, but the look was lost on him since he’d already turned away and started toward Jason…who must have been having trouble figuring out the grill, because the young man was leaning over, showing off the sexiest bubble butt. Michel’s hands twitched, desire to cup and squeeze those round mounds roaring through him.
Between the man’s scent and his state of dress—or undress—Michel’s cock turned hard as steel and he took a second while both men were occupied with the grill to adjust himself, then pull his shirt down, making certain it was long enough to hide his arousal.
Finally, Raul turned to face him again. “Jason, this is our buddy Michel McDover.” He waved a hand at his mate. “My nephew, Jason Truollo.”
Schooling his features, Michel offered his hand. “Nice to meet ye,” he said, pleased his voice came out even, although his accent thickened due to his arousal.
“And you, sir,” Jason replied.
When Jason took his hand, Michel couldn’t help but notice how his big, calloused hand swallowed his mate’s. He gave Jason’s hand a slight squeeze as he smiled, trying to quell the urge to use the hold to yank the unsuspecting man into his arms and see if he tasted as good as he looked and smelled.
“Call me Michel,” he commanded softly, releasing Jason’s hand.
Jason nodded, his face and neck flushing from either pleasure or embarrassment, Michel wasn’t certain which. Roving his gaze over the other human’s chest, he wondered if—in the heat of passion—that rosy hue would cover the rest of his torso.
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