So close now, Alec could read the make on his wetsuit, see the individual grains of sand that dusted
the black material, the drops of water trembling on the points of his hair. Now or never. But Alec couldn‟t,
couldn’t. Could he?
He stood up. “Stop!” His mouth dried out as the surfer‟s dark, dark green eyes looked into his, startled
and curious. Suddenly he felt an absolute fool. He was inviting a good kicking, at least. But damn it, a man
couldn‟t always be afraid.
“Don‟t go past. Please. Sit down and drink with me. If you go past… If you go past, I think I‟ll die.

Alex Beecroft

Mots clés funny

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He looked like a man who was turning into paper, folding himself into origami angles, fragile and friable and prone to crumple.

Alex Beecroft

Mots clés m-m-romance

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