Author: Leta Blake & Alice Griffiths
Title: Will & Patrick Do the
Holidays
Series Title and Number: Wake Up Married, Episode 3
Publisher: Leta Blake Books
Release Date: November 23, 2015
Genre: Romantic Comedy M/M Romance
Tags: gay, woke up married, tropes,
rom-com, mafia, forced marriage, disabled heroes
Heat Level: 5!!!! Super hot!!
Pairing: M/M
Length: 117 Pages
Book Blurb
Follow Will &
Patrick as they do the holidays in this third installment of the
romantic-comedy serial, Wake Up Married, by
best-selling author Leta Blake and newcomer Alice Griffiths!
A couple’s first holiday season is always a special time. Thanksgiving,
Christmas, and New Year’s Eve are magical when you’re in love. Too bad Will and
Patrick’s marriage is a sham and they’re only faking their affection for each
other. Or are they?
Sparks fly in
this episode of the Wake Up Married
serial. Will the sexual tension between Will and Patrick finally explode in a
needy night of passion? Or will they continue to deny their feelings?
Episode 3 of 6 in
the
Wake Up Married serial.
Excerpt
“Ah, the acrid smell of insulin
in the morning.” Patrick’s voice is still gravelly from sleep as he turns on
the shower and pulls down his black boxer-briefs revealing his tight ass.
Will looks quickly away and back
to the syringe he’s filling by the bathroom sink. “I can never get the last
dose to eject from the insulin pens. I always have to pull it out with a
needle.”
“After living with you, I have an
entire list of ways they can improve insulin pen injectors.”
“I should have my lawyer queue up
an appointment for you with the pharmaceutical company.”
“You do that, puddin’-pop, and
I’ll be there with a PowerPoint presentation. It’ll consist of four words over
and over. ‘Do your damn job.’ If pushed, I might throw in a ‘Don’t make me do
it for you’ as a closing argument.”
Will pinches a bit of fat from
his abdomen and sticks himself quickly. He’s done this for years, but he never
stops hating it. Especially syringes. They’re somehow worse than the insulin
pens. “I’ll ask Owen to make that happen.”
Patrick snorts from behind the
curtain. Will glances over and heat floods his gut as he notices the shadow
outline of Patrick’s morning wood. “Oh, um, let me just—” He hustles to deal
with the used needle and ends up dropping the syringe in the sink. The scent of
insulin grows stronger. “Why does it smell like Band-Aids?” Will muses as he
finally gets rid of the used needle and cleans up the syringe, tossing the
now-empty insulin pen.
“It’s the preservative.
Meta-cresol,” Patrick says. “Mmm, so clinical. So sexy.”
“And you’re so weird.”
“Nothing like the smell of a
hospital to get my motor running.”
Will glances back at Patrick’s
shadow behind the shower curtain. He’s still got a half chub flopping around as
he washes his hair. Will clears his throat.
“Have you considered an insulin
pump?” Patrick asks.
Will tries to drag his mind from
Patrick’s erection. “I don’t want one.”
“Because?”
“I don’t like the idea of having
something attached to me. All the time. Something I have to rely on to do its
job.”
“You trust insulin pens have the
right dosage, that the dial works, that they’re—“
“I know, Patrick. But I have the
right to my own preferences when it comes to my medical treatment.”
“Fair enough. So what’s the deal
with your daddy?” Patrick asks sans segue.
“What are you talking about?”
Will packs up his testing kit and uses a black marker he keeps in his murse to
make a dot on the back of his left hand. He can’t forget to drop by the
pharmacy and pick up his replacement insulin pens.
“Papa Molinaro. What’s the deal
with him and the holidays? He wasn’t around for Thanksgiving. Will he be
dropping down the chimney on Christmas Eve with a bag full of presents for you
and a nice hard dick for your mommy? Or what?”
Will rolls his eyes. “Thanks for
that image.”
“You’re welcome.”
“He spends Christmas with his
daughters. Or at least he used to. I don’t keep in touch with him.”
“Ah, the half siblings you’ve
never met. So, no Christmas phone call from Papa?”
“No.” Will feels the familiar
hot, impatient squirm of nastiness in his gut. Conversations about his father
usually bring it on.
“No Christmas card stuffed with
cash?”
“No card, no text, no Skype, no
email.”
“Huh.”
“What?”
“He’s obsessed enough with you to
have you followed by mobster spies but he can’t pick up a phone. At best, that’s
inefficient.”
“At worst?”
“At worst, Starshine, you have a
deeply dysfunctional father/son relationship.”
“Wow. You really are a genius.”
Patrick barks a laugh and then
begins to hum the new Madonna song he’s been singing off and on for the last
two days.
“That’s still stuck in your head,
huh?”
“Mmm-hmm.”
“Better than ‘We Three Kings’
mixed with ‘Scarborough Fair,’” Will mutters. Finished with his morning insulin
rituals, he starts the water in the sink to begin his shaving routine. “Tony
doesn’t do anything he doesn’t want to do, and being a reliable member of our
family was never something he was good at.”
“When did you last see him?”
“It’s been three years. It can be
ten more for all I care.” Will pumps shaving cream into his hand and smears it
on his face. “He sweeps in on a whim, wreaks havoc on our lives, and sweeps out
again.”
Patrick is quiet behind the
curtain and Will glances over to see that he’s rinsing out his hair.
“There’s no pattern, unless you
count my mom getting serious with anyone. As soon as my dad gets wind of her
being happy with someone else, he has to come to town and wreck it.”
“With his dick.”
Will sighs. “Everything’s about
sex for you, isn’t it?”
“Nope. A lot of things. But not
everything.” He turns off the water and throws back the curtain. Will averts
his eyes quickly, but his hands are already shaking enough that he’s not sure
he should be trusted to shave himself. Patrick goes on. “But it’s all about sex
between your parents. The Hurting Times
churns with scintillating tales of your mom inappropriately hopping on your
dad’s pole.”
“Like you know anything about
‘inappropriate’.”
Patrick laughs. “Like I know
about that time they banged in the bathroom at some old lady’s funeral. The Hurting Times forum had pages
dedicated to that one.”
Will’s ears grow hot.
“And, hey, for the record, even I
know a funeral home toilet is a bad place for sex. Public bathrooms are tourist
destinations for germs.” He shudders and slings a towel around his hips, thankfully
covering his dangling dick. “It’s not sanitary.”
“You are such a jerk.”
“So you tell me.” Patrick grabs a
hairbrush and runs it through his wet hair. The dark auburn looks almost brown
and glistens brightly in the overhead bathroom lights. “There’s evidence of a
genetic component to addiction.” Patrick’s eyes go foggy as he muses, “But is
it addiction or abuse? Both probably.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You, mainly. But I’m also
talking about them. If The Hurting Times
gossip about the two of them is even half true, they are their own kind of
addicts. Addicted to each other. Addicted to sex. Addicted to falling in love.
Especially your mother. But it’s possible your father uses the intense sexual
connection between them as abuse.”
“I…” Will’s fingers clutch at the
razor and he drags it against his skin carefully. “I didn’t think you believed
in psychology mumbo-jumbo.”
“I don’t believe in spiritual
mumbo-jumbo. And, yes, psychology is a lot of bull-honky, but as a neurologist,
I can’t deny that thoughts and experiences have physical effects on brain
tissue. Dubious and whoo-hoo as most psychological theories seem compared with
hard science. What’s your dad’s sign?”
“Really?”
Patrick shrugs and sidles up next
to Will at the sink, examining his own face in the mirror.
Will sighs. “Early November. So,
what’s that? Scorpio?”
“Ah. And your mother’s a Scorpio
too.”
“How do you know? The Hurting Times again?”
“I know because I’ve met her.”
Patrick’s arm slides against his
as he reaches for the can of shaving cream. Will moves slightly to the side but
Patrick just scoots closer. Will can smell soap on his skin and shampoo in his
hair. He wonders what those curls would feel like slick and wet under his
fingers.
Patrick rubs on shaving cream and
reaches for his razor. His naked chest slides against Will’s bicep.
Will tries to concentrate on
shaving, but Patrick’s reflection in the mirror is distracting. His normally
pale skin is flushed from the shower and his nipples are pink and peaked. Will
clears his throat and scrapes his razor over his face again.
“Addiction,” Patrick muses on.
“You didn’t stumble into that on your own. You drink…and your parents screw.
That’s how these genes play out. And with both of them being Scorpios…”
Patrick’s arm rubs against him,
and Will clicks his tongue against his teeth. Between this touching and Patrick’s speculation about his parents’ sex life,
Will can’t tell if he’s going to pop an inconvenient boner or if his balls are
going to shrivel up into his body.
“Two Scorpios can burn down a
barn from the heat of their mutual orgasms.”
Ball-shriveling wins out. “Okay,
well, this conversation has covered everything I never wanted to think about.
I’m going to be late to work.”
Patrick studies Will in the
mirror.
Will wipes his face clean of
cream, decides not to care that he’s got one stripe of shiny skin on an
otherwise stubbly face, and, grabbing his murse, leaves the sink to Patrick.
He dresses quickly. He really is
going to be late. Not that anyone at Good Works would say anything to him.
“Do you have surgery scheduled?”
Will calls out as he slides his wallet into his back pocket and hitches his bag
on his shoulder.
“No.”
“Meet you here tonight?”
“Will there be more Capheus?”
“Yes. And more Lito.”
“It’s a TV date with the hubby,
then,” Patrick says, stepping out into the room with his sharp grin in place.
The hubby.
“First person home calls room
service,” Patrick adds. “Order stuff we both like. We can share.”
“Deal.”
“Oh, and Will? For the record,
you’d still be hot even if you wore an insulin pump.”
“Thanks. But I’ll stick with the
pens.”
Walking out of the pharmacy
twenty minutes later with his new insulin pens, Will wonders what kind of sex
Libras and Aries are supposed to have. You
already know the answer to that. Hot enough to burn down a barn.
“God, just stop.”
He rubs a hand over his hair and decides to focus
on the day ahead. He’ll take it one step at a time. Just like AA has taught
him.
Author Bios
Leta Blake
Author of the bestselling book Smoky
Mountain Dreams and the fan favorite Training Season, Leta Blake's educational
and professional background is in psychology and finance, respectively.
However, her passion has always been for writing. She enjoys crafting romance
stories and exploring the psyches of made up people. At home in the Southern U.S., Leta works hard at achieving balance
between her day job, her writing, and her family.
You can find out more about her by
following her online:
Alice Griffiths
A long-time reader of
romance novels, Alice Griffiths finally took the plunge into writing, teaming
up with best-selling author Leta Blake for the 'Woke up Married' serialized
comedy. A lover of tropes, Alice
enjoys mining old ideas and putting a fresh, funny spin on them. Formerly
working in the newspaper industry, Alice
is now an art curator. She lives in Sydney,
Australia.
You can find out more about her by
following her online:
