Shockwave (Winter #5)

Sinclair is back. The revelation drops like a bomb on Rich’s cosy domestic bliss with his long-time crush, the gorgeous and shy Parker. Because Sinclair is the man whose severe beating sent Parker fleeing late one winter’s night to arrive bruised and frozen on Rich’s doorstep pleading for shelter.

After just two weeks with Parker, Rich is already thinking about forever. He’s crazy about Parker; he can’t let Parker be terrorised any more. But when Rich comes face to face with Sinclair, he begins to realise just how dangerously obsessed Sinclair is…

4800-word MM erotic romance.

Excerpt:

“Sinclair. His name was Sinclair.”

The name dropped into the silence like a bomb.

Rich could only stare across the table at Parker as the rest of the world dropped away: the country pub with its dark panels, its leather seats, its diamond-paned windows looking out over the river, all gone. All he could see was Parker looking back at him with that haunted expression that Rich had never wanted to see again.

Sinclair. The man who had left Parker bruised and terrified. The man who had driven Parker into hiding with Rich in his isolated farmhouse for weeks. The man whose shadow lay across them, whose name they barely dared speak.

Now Sinclair knew exactly where Parker had been hiding. And Sinclair was coming for them.

Rich’s throat had gone dry, his muscles tight. He was seized by the sudden terror that Sinclair was here already, no more than six inches behind them. There would be nothing they could do. Sinclair would tear through them like a tornado, an unstoppable force.

Parker got up so fast he stumbled, clutching at the table to steady himself, as if the world had tilted around him. He nearly knocked over his half-empty glass; Rich caught it out of reflex. Then Parker turned blindly away and strode out of the pub into the crisp winter air. The light haloed him briefly and obscured him. He was gone.

Panic sparked. If Rich let him out of his sight for an instant, Sinclair might snatch him up. Rich jumped to his feet and hurried after him.

Rich caught up with Parker back at their car. The tightness in his throat, the squeeze in his chest eased as he drew near. His footsteps crunched through the gravel, but Parker did not look up; Parker braced himself against the car with both hands flat against the window, head low, taking deep shuddering breaths. He was strikingly gorgeous, all fair hair and dark blue eyes, strong cheekbones and square jaw. But his expression crumbled into despair.

“We have to go.” Parker’s fists clenched against the window, the muscles in his forearms standing out. His voice tightened with strain. “We have to get out of here. Right now. Before Sinclair comes.”

“Parker—”

“There’s no time!” Parker turned to him, his face twisting. “He’s going to come, he’s going to hurt us.”