Chapter 21

However, home now meant something more. That “more” was both exciting and worrisome. Bobby was there. The mere thought had Doyle growing hard, but he knew there was more than mere lust to his rapidly developing feelings. He shook his head. He had told himself he was not going to allow it to happen—the young Latino was merely supposed to be a brief fling, a way to pass the time and scratch his itch when it became too unbearable. Yet, when he was honest with himself, he knew there had been a deeper underlying desire from the first. He had hoped, even longed, for something finer and more real.

He might not want a wife or children but he did want a companion, a permanent sort of companion with whom he could be himself, forget the conventions and constraints and onerous duties…With a ragged sigh, he again shook his head. How could such a thing be possible, especially for him?