About Thyme: Brave and True
by Jenna Jones
67 pages / 18500 words
ISBN: 978-1-61040-730-4
Ebook zipped file contains -
html, lit, Adobe and Sony optimized pdf, prc, epub
Thyme is the herb for courage, something Patrick has been lacking ever
since he was publicly humiliated on a national cooking competition. For the
past sixteen years, he's been content to be the personal assistant to
celebrity chef Dix and love him in silence.
Between the end of Dix's long-running television show and accusations of
fraud within Dix's charity, Dix's world is changing and Patrick doesn't know
his place in it anymore. As secrets come to light, can Patrick find the
courage to trust Dix as he once did, and to believe that he deserves it?
Sample
"Keep me company tomorrow night, too?" Dix asked
quietly.
"Of course."
Dix was silent for a while, his thumb brushing Patrick's shoulder. "And the
night before they send me to prison?" he whispered. "Keep me company that
night, too?"
"You're not going to prison."
"I don't know how to prove my innocence, Patrick."
"Nicky wants to see the accounts. He'll find a way. And if he doesn't --
we'll find something else. But you can account for all your income, you pay
your full taxes, you report every gift -- you're an honest man. They'll see
that. They've got to."
Dix looked at him again, a faint smile on his lips, his eyes oddly bright.
"Thank you," he said and cleared his throat. "For having faith in me. It
means a lot."
"Of course I have faith in you." He swallowed and wondered if Dix was even
aware he still had his arm around Patrick's shoulders. He hoped not, because
then Dix might move away. "You -- you're the only thing I have faith in
anymore."
"Patrick," Dix breathed and Patrick cupped Dix's face in his hands and Dix's
hand knotted into his hair, and Patrick tasted that sensitive mouth. Dix's
skin was cool from being outside but his mouth was warm and tasted like
thyme from dinner. His strong fingers massaged Patrick's head and he sucked
in Patrick's breath, and when he tugged Patrick closer Patrick went
willingly, climbing onto him.
This was Dix's body, solid and sturdy, his thighs, his hips -- it wasn't
enough to just look at him, not when Patrick could touch. He touched, broad
shoulders, powerful arms, a deep and sturdy chest, the long throat where he
could feel Dix's pulse racing under his fingertips. He stroked Dix's throat,
his jaw and his cheekbones.
Dix caught his hand and clasped it tightly. Patrick held Dix's head and
kissed him deeper, unable to keep back the keening noises that escaped his
throat. So many years, so much longing...