WIP Wednesday - Polishing His Admirer for Publication

Good morning readers! Today I have a portion of an upcoming release- It's my current WIP, but it's also a rewrite of a former Story Orgy serial called His Admirer. If all goes according to plan, this will be releasing in August. (Remember, what you're getting today is first draft quality- hasn't been edited yet!)

The Original story began with this visual:

His Admirer

"Battle: Salmon!" Kenji Fukui had just announced the ingredient in the first ever Iron Chef battle, when the familiar yet unexpected rap came on my door. Typically, my traitorous heart pounded, and anticipation stirred. It had to be Gabe, with that silly patterned knock.
I jumped off the couch and smiled weakly at my sister. "Um…"
She frowned at me. "Zeke? Is that him? I thought we were gonna hang out tonight?
Mindy and I were hardly dressed for company. She'd been home all summer, and we'd scarce spent any time together. Tonight was supposed to be for us, back to back episodes of our favorite campy television program, watching the judges gush over fish gut ice cream, and Ben and Jerry's by the tub.
We'd planned, plotted, and finagled for this night of twin bonding. Why the hell was Gabe banging on our door?
"Yeah. It's him. I…"
She waved a spoonful of Chunky Monkey in my direction. "Go. See what he wants, but if you're not back in before the end of the show, I'm going to eat the Chubby Hubby, too."
Mindy was great like that. "Thanks, Mindy. I swear, I did not double book on this night." The little excited pitter patter of my heart wouldn't let me be too mad at Gabe though. He was a busy guy, and I didn’t see him as often as I'd like. The habit he'd developed lately of dropping by without notice, though, bothered me. On the one hand, I considered as I strolled to the front door, it meant he was comfortable and happy in our relationship, which I had to see as a plus.
On the other, it seemed that expecting me to be home and available without notice struck me as taking advantage. I didn't care for that at all.
I pulled open the front door and was assaulted by two completely different types of heat.
One was due to the late evening humidity and the high temperatures, but the other was all Gabe.
Tall, broad shouldered, thickly muscled, with his brilliant light blue eyes and, ummm, the scent of hard work clinging to him. The quirky little grin on his lips told me he'd noted my interest.
"Hey," I forced the words past my suddenly dry mouth. A drop of sweat beaded on his brow and I watched it trickle down his temple and into the faint stubble of his jaw.
"Hey, yourself." Gabe leaned forward and my vision blurred as he kissed me. I might have fallen on my ass if he hadn't held me up with his arm around my waist.
When did that happen? I chased his lips for another kiss, savoring the taste of man and mint and the mingled odors of outdoors and wood and sweat that comprised Gabe. No fancy cologne had ever done it for me like the natural smells that clung to Gabe after a day of work.
"Did, um…" My voice faded as he shifted his focus to nibble at my neck, tugging aside the neckline of my Dolce and Gabbana tee. It felt so damn good, the nip and suck of his mouth along my collarbone that I couldn’t even bring myself to protest the potential ruination of my favorite designer wear. Closing my eyes, I let the sensations sweep through me, the rough caress of his stubbled jaw on my skin, the slick glide of his tongue.
"Zeke? I’m opening the Chubby Hubby!"


Check out other WIPS at Laura Harner's Blog & Havan Fellow's Blog


The dark eyes lit with a glitter of interest. The boy glided forward, strangely graceful, plump ruby lips stretched in a flirty smile. "I'm Caspar Thorpe. People don't usually see me back here. It's nice to meet you, Trevor." He extended a pale hand. Trevor wiped his own damp palm on his jeans and reluctantly took Caspar's hand. It was soft and cool in his grip, oddly soothing and he felt nearly as reluctant to release his grip on the hand as he'd been to take it in the first place.


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Be Yourself

To be nobody but yourself in a world which is doing its best, night and day, to make you everybody else means to fight the hardest battle which any human being can fight; and never stop fighting. ~e.e. cummings, 1955