#ThrowbackThursday this week is brought to us by Rebecca Norinne. Break Down is set in the world of rugby, and features someone looking for a second chance and finding it in a move of country and in the arms of a new friend. The book, and series, is available now.
From the blurb:
All his life, Liam Donnelly looked and wondered—could he, would he? And then, finally, he did. But when he sampled a taste of that forbidden fruit, his whole world came crashing down, including his position with Dublin Rugby. When a chance to play in Edinburgh instead comes along, Liam jumps at the opportunity, knowing it might be his only chance to start fresh. To get back to the man he used to be.
Out-and-proud chef Lachlan MacLeod has vowed to stop hooking up with bi-curious straight guys, but when Liam Donnelly keeps showing up in his restaurant—his eyes filled with heat and secret longing—he can’t turn him away. He knows going down that road with the closeted rugby player is a bad idea, but Liam calls to him in a way no man ever has before.
As their friendship grows, so does their attraction until it spills over into the single hottest moment of both men’s lives. What starts as a safe way for Liam to explore his sexuality quickly morphs into something deeper, and now Lachlan wants more. But can his heart reconcile what his head already knows—that loving the broken, gorgeous athlete might actually mean letting him go?
Excerpt:
Eventually, Liam's team dinner came to a close. As I rolled my knives away, the sound of six chairs scooting back ricocheted through the room. As a unit, the men rose and awkwardly thanked their servers. With a wave and a few polite chin lifts, they also extended their appreciation in my direction. Usually, I’d shake their hands and thank them for coming, but that might encourage them to come back someday, and I didn’t want these guys here ever again.
As conflicted as I was about what was happening between Liam and me, I genuinely liked him as a person, and they’d behaved like pricks toward him all night. The least they could have done was thank him for the goddamn meal they’d been comped through his connections.
As they shuffled toward the staircase, I called out, “Hey Liam, stay back a minute? I want to talk to you about something.”
He stopped, and I watched his chest rise with a gulp and then fall with a long exhalation. Meanwhile, the two men at the front of the pack—I think their names were Hamish and James—turned to stare at me before their eyes swung to Liam and then back to each other. Hamish’s eyebrow shot up and James’s lips flattened as his shoulders lifted in a shrug. I didn’t need to see thought bubbles over their heads to know Hamish was silently asking, “What the fuck is that all about?” while James answered, “Beats the fuck out of me.”
“Yeah, all right.” Liam gestured to his teammates with a half-hearted wave and a lackluster, “I’ll see you tomorrow” before tenattively shuffling back into the room and shifting nervously near the marble-topped island.
“Pull up a chair?” When he did, I leaned my forearms on the counter and said, “So, they’re a lovely bunch.”
“I’m sorry. That was so bad.”
“It was bloody excruciating, and I wasn’t even the one they were icing out.”
He scrubbed a hand over his weary face. “There was an … incident … in the locker room this afternoon. I should have canceled, but they said everything was cool.”
The way he said incident—that loaded pause and the drop in the timbre of his smooth, cultured South Dublin accent—put me on high alert. I sensed that whatever happened hadn’t been about rugby. Recalling how his teammates had looked at me when I’d called out to him, I *knew* it hadn’t been about rugby. I’d been the problem. Which at least explained Liam's panic attack downstairs earlier.
I pushed off the counter and opened the cabinet where I kept my best booze. Looking over my shoulder, I raised the decanter in silent question.
“Yeah, why not?” he replied.
I emptied a standard pour into the glass, paused, and doubled it. “So, what did they say about me?”
When I passed him the glass, he took a long swig of the amber liquid, his throat bobbing as he swallowed. Staring down into the tumbler, he swirled the whisky a few times and then raised his eyes up to meet mine. “This tastes like licking a burnt log.”
I chuckled despite the heaviness in my heart and the lead in my stomach. “You lick many logs lately?” And then I realized how that could have been misconstrued and laughed out loud for real. “Fuck, I’m sorry. That was bad.”
Liam’s mouth kicked up and he took another sip. “Horrible.”
I leaned my hip against the counter. “I’m serious, Liam. What did they say to you?”
He pulled a deep breath down into his lungs, his chest rising with the effort. When he let it out, he blinked and his lips dropped into a frown. “They called you a poof.”
“A poof?”
“You know, a faggot.”
I tried to keep my face impassive as I processed his words. And then I laughed loudly, even though nothing was funny about what he’d just said. “I do like a good dick.”
“Don’t do that,” he bit out. “Don’t make light of it.”
“Liam,” I sighed, “they aren’t the first assholes to call me a poof, and they won’t be the last. If I got my apron in a twist every time some fucking meathead called me a fairy or a pansy ass, I wouldn’t have accomplished anything with my life. No one will remember their names in a few years, and I’ll still be here, one of the greatest chefs to come out of Scotland. I’m not going to cry myself to sleep over it.”
“How do you—” he trailed off.
“How do I what? Brush it off so easily?”
“Yeah,” he whispered. “That.”
“I didn’t always,” I admitted, remembering all the fights I’d gotten into after I’d first come out, my knuckles bloodied and my nose repeatedly broken. And then, when the fighting hadn’t quieted my demons, the hard-partying and anonymous, unprotected sex I’d turned to. Pushing those dark memories aside, I continued, “But then I decided the only opinions I valued were from people I respected. And I don’t respect big men who use small, ugly words to make themselves feel better about who they are underneath all that hate.”
I watched Liam process my words, mull them over, and absorb their truth. I’d had a long time to get to this place, but he was still struggling to accept his new understanding of who he was. I wished I’d met him three or four years from now … that he’d walked into my restaurant, secure in his sexuality and knowing that who he fucked was only one small part of who he was. But that wasn’t what had happened. I’d met Liam now—when he still felt as if wanting another man made him somehow less than whole. He wasn’t ready to let go of who he thought he was supposed to be, the life he was supposed to lead, or the expectations people had for him. He wasn’t ready to give us a chance.
And yet, I couldn’t walk away from him either. I might not get to share his bed, but I could be his friend while he faced his demons. No one had done that for me, and those early years had been pure fucking hell. “Look, I know you didn’t want this—” I waved my hand back and forth between us “—whatever this is. You didn’t walk in here that first night looking for a hookup. The thing is, I do want this, and I probably always will. But I get you’re not ready for that, and I won’t pressure you. No more jokes, no more innuendo. I … I guess I’m saying I want to be your friend, like you offered before.”
Liam set his glass to the side. “I appreciate that, I really do. But I can’t stop thinking about you.” He groaned, and his face became a mask of repressed pain. “I want you so fucking bad it hurts.”
My cock stirred, and my gut clenched at his admission, at the look of pure, perfect longing on his handsome face. I wanted him like I’d never wanted anything or anyone in my life—and that included my next fix when I’d been an addict. If Liam Donnelly was a drug, I was fucking hooked. And like an addict, now that my fix was within reach, nothing could stop me from reaching out and grabbing it. No amount of logic or reason could prevent me from stepping between his thighs and fisting his blond hair between my fingers. No amount of caution or doubt would keep me from tugging his head back. And when he gasped—his mouth parting in surprise—no amount of uncertainty would keep me from crushing my lips to his, from my teeth nipping at the sensual curve of his full bottom lip. Nothing, and no one, would keep me from devouring the mouth I’d dreamed about for weeks, from licking my way inside, from tangling my tongue with his until he weaved his fingers through my hair and moaned, the sound moving from his chest, through his mouth, and into mine.
Liam’s hand fell to my cock, and he squeezed the long, hard length of me in a tight grip. Reflexively, I rolled my hips and swallowed the groan he gave in response. With fumbling fingers, he plucked at the button of my jeans. And that’s when I knew we had to stop. I tore my lips from his and gripped his questing hand, pulling it away.
“Let me touch you,” he begged, his breathing erratic. “I need to fucking touch you.”
I wanted nothing more than to drop my jeans and let him explore to his heart’s content, but if I did, there was no going back. If I let him touch my body how I longed to be touched, he’d fucking own me. And if he wasn’t ready for the ramifications of those actions, we couldn’t go there. “You have to be sure this is what you want.”
With his gaze locked firmly on the massive erection I was sporting behind my denim, Liam licked his lips. “It is. It so fucking is.” He dragged his eyes back up my body until all I saw was the profound need that existed within. “This is what I want,” he vowed. “I want you, Lachlan. I can’t stop wanting you.”
Break Down is currently available as an e-book
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