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Let the games begin…
Former Los Angeles Police officer Steve Miller has gone from walking a beat in the City of Angels to joining the rat race as an advertising executive. He knows how cut-throat the industry can be, so when his boss tells him that he’s in direct competition with a newcomer from across the pond for a coveted account he’s not surprised…then he meets Mark Richfield.
Born with a silver spoon in his mouth and fashion-model good looks, Mark is used to getting what he wants. About to be married, Mark has just nailed the job of his dreams. If the determined Brit could just steal the firm’s biggest account right out from under Steve Miller, his life would be perfect.
When their boss sends them together to the Arizona desert for a team-building retreat the tension between the two dynamic men escalates until in the heat of the moment their uncontrollable passion leads them to a sexual experience that neither can forget.
Will Mark deny his feelings and follow through with marriage to a women he no longer wants, or will he realize in time that in the game of love, sometimes you have to let go and lose yourself in order to really win.
Editorial Reviews:
From Elisa Rolle, reviewer
"Steve and Mark are very intensive characters...all male and very sexy. Capital Games is both arousing and satisfying."
Excerpt:
“Kill me? Oh, go ahead! It’s the only way you’ll ever get the bloody Foist account! You can’t do it on merit! So, go ahead, Miller! Try and kill me!”
Steve grabbed his shoulders and shoved him back to the ground. Mark gripped his arms and braced him up off his body. They wrestled around the dusty earth, trapping each other’s legs and trying to pin down arms and control fingers and knees. When Steve realized their hips were connected he had a flash of fire wash over him that stunned him.
“Come on, you bleedin’ cop! This the best you can do?”
“You’re stronger than you look, you stupid limey!”
“Am I?” Mark laughed cruelly. “Or are you not as tough as you look?”
“I don’t want to really hurt you, that’s all!” Steve ground his jaw and struggled with him, unable to stop rubbing his hard cock against Mark’s crotch.
“Oh? Is that your excuse? Kill me, but don’t hurt me? You flippin’ moppet! You’re all talk!”
“Shut up! Just shut the fuck up!” Something in Steve broke. An incredible animal attraction for this man was making his head spin and he would be humiliated if Mark felt how hard he had gotten from the contact. He shoved him back and twisted away.
“Thought so,” Mark sneered, brushing off his legs and arms. “Nothing but bravado. You’re pathetic.”
Wiping at his tears discreetly, Steve felt sick inside. As if everything that had come before this was meaningless and a failure, he began to travel back in time remembering everything that had ever gone wrong in his life.
Wiping off his face in humiliation with the bandana he removed from his pocket, Steve peeked behind him in embarrassment.
~
Mark was curled up on the dirt, trying to keep warm, with his back facing him. The sensation of the friction of Steve’s body humping on his reverberated through his crotch making him rock hard. Images of Steve wielding the axe and hammer, shirtless, raced through his mind. There was no doubt Steve was hot. Very hot indeed. But how could he get excited by his touch? It didn’t make sense. Angry at himself for not loathing the contact between them, Mark imagined nestling up to Steve in the cold night, inhaling his scent, and…no, no, no! he chided himself. You and this man are adversaries, not potential lovers! Use your head!
Mark bit his lip to control his emotions. Hadn’t everyone always assumed he was gay? Hadn’t he fought those feelings with everything he had? Was this a test? Was some all-knowing force giving him this incredibly masculine man, dangled in front of him like a carrot, to see if he could be swayed?
Oh, yes. He was swayed. He had not passed the test.
~
Using his hat as a pillow, Steve gave Mark his back as well, and tried to stop the stream of useless frustration from making him emotional again.
He had fallen asleep. A movement behind him woke him. A warm back had made its way to contact him in the cold night, shivering to keep warm. Opening his eyes, he came around a little more and heard the noises of the dark: a distant coyote, toads, night owls. Then he heard Mark’s teeth chattering. Sighing tiredly, he rolled over and tried to wrap around him to warm him up. At first Mark stiffened and seemed to want to push him away, but he was too cold to fight it. Like spoons, they enveloped each other fending off the chill. With his warm breath, Steve puffed on the back of Mark’s neck through his long hair. Inhaling deeply, Steve caught its fragrant aroma and closed his eyes as it filled his senses. A tiny moan escaped Mark’s lips, as if he finally, gratefully, felt the warmth he craved. Steve tightened his arms around him, feeling the size and strength of Mark’s body. With his left hand, he rubbed Mark’s shoulder and upper arm, warming him.
In his embrace he felt Mark relax slightly from the relief. He rubbed his elbow, his forearm, feeling his cold skin. Then he caressed his hip, then the long solid thigh that had curled up into a fetal position for warmth. With his palm Steve warmed that leg, running over his shin, his knee, then back up his thigh to the edge of Mark’s shorts. Steve shivered, but not from a chill. He closed his eyes and nestled into that soft long hair, inhaling him like a drug. Without a conscious thought, he moved his hand to that belt and opened it. Next was a button, then a zipper. Mark tensed up and gripped Steve’s wrist. Steve wrenched out of that grip and found the waistband of Mark’s shorts, pulling them down his backside roughly. Mark rolled over violently, grabbing Steve’s arms to stop him. Then, in the dimmest of moonlight, their eyes met. As Steve’s heart pounded like a kettle drum in his chest, he waited what felt like hours, but must only have been seconds. When Mark’s mouth made contact with his, he thought his brain would explode from the thrill.
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