For this Friday’s feature spot, we’re thrilled to bring you an excerpt from Amy Andrews’ first MM romance. It’s book number seven in Amy’s Sydney Smoke Rugby series, and we won’t detain you any further, because we know you’ll be wanting to scroll down to admire the cover and read the excerpt!
Donovan Bane loves playing rugby for the Sydney Smoke. And if that means he has to keep his sexuality a secret, that’s a sacrifice he’s prepared to make. At least until after he retires, anyway. He doesn’t want to be the first pro rugby player in Australia to officially come out while still playing. The team doesn’t need the media shit storm and he’d rather be known for his footy skills. Which means no dating, no relationships, no sex. Nothing but playing ball.
Until one man suddenly changes everything…
Beckett Stanton is out and proud—and not looking for a guy who isn’t. Been there, done that, complete disaster. Unfortunately, on the first day of his new job working for the Sydney Smoke, he locks eyes with Donovan Bane and he’s a goner. Big, gruff, and athletic isn’t usually Beck’s type, but for some reason this man is ticking all his boxes. And it’s clear the feeling is mutual. It’s also clear that Donovan is not out, and doesn’t plan to be anytime soon. Still, Beck can’t resist being the man to show Donovan everything he’s been missing.
For the first time, Donovan doesn’t play it safe and allows himself to indulge in things with Beck he knows he can’t have. But when their relationship gets serious, he knows he has to choose between the career he loves and the man he loves, because how can he possibly have both?
“I’m sorry.” Beckett raked a hand through his hair. Maybe that’s why it looked so tousled. “I…don’t know why I’m here.”
Donovan’s heart rate slowed at the genuine note of confusion in his voice. His blood thickened to sludge, adding to the heat in his system. “Okay.”
“I told myself I’d stay away.” His brow furrowed, his eyes earnest in appeal as if needing Donovan to understand something he didn’t understand himself. “To give you space.”
“I even went out last night with some friends so I wouldn’t come here. But tonight I just…found myself in my car and then I was…here.”
Donovan swallowed against the parchment dry tissues of his throat. “Okay.” The loud buzz in his ears was clearly rendering him incapable of wording right now.
Their eyes locked. “You should send me away.”
Probably. But seeing the usually calm and reasoned Beckett so…undone was sparking little fires in his belly and his thighs and his ass. His breath stuttered to a halt at the twin flares of desire he saw burning in the other man’s eyes. “Okay.”
But he made absolutely no move to do so.
Another beat passed. Two. Then, “Fuck it,” Beckett swore under his breath as he took two steps forward, slid a hand onto Donovan’s nape and kissed him hard.
It took a couple of seconds for Donovan to respond, for all the parts of him to come together, to register the firm mouth, the delicious minty breath, the hot spice of cologne. To realise he was being kissed.
By a man. By Beckett.
It was a busy couple of seconds. But in one pure beat of the heart, it all clicked and he ceded to the probing of Beckett’s tongue against his closed lips, opening to him, every cell straining to the feel of his mouth, to the taste of him, to the smell of him. It filled up Donovan’s senses until he was drowning in sensations.
So this was how it felt to be kissed by a man. Harder, deeper, earthier. Scratchier, bulkier, hairier. Double the testosterone. Triple the hit. Like being part of those YouTube videos, not just an onlooker.
This was what he’d been waiting for. This moment. Nothing had ever felt this right. This natural. This innate. Nothing. Not even rugby.
And it consumed him. Beckett consumed him.