Dreaming in Color by Cameron Dane (autobiographies to read .TXT) 📕

the voice called out a greeting again and Marek realized it was Colin—returning as he promised—an even greater anticipation whooshed through Marek, making him feel truly alive.

And terrified.

I can't go through falling for someone and losing him again.

Marek somehow already knew it would be easy as hell to get caught up in Colin Baxter, whether aware of the man's true motives or not.

A knock sounded against the open door, and a second later, Colin peeked inside.

Goddamnit. Colin wasn't wearing anything special, just cargo shorts and a white T-shirt, but he looked fucking sexy enough to devour. His hair was cutely mussed, undoubtedly from the boat ride to Marek's place. The shirt he wore pulled at his shoulders and chest, outlining his lean, hard muscles; he already had his shoes off, as if he owned the place and planned to stay for awhile. Shit, he looked good enough to fuck. Marek stifled a groan as he envisioned himself bending Colin over this bench and smothering his cock in the tight confines of the man's perfect ass.

No. Anger at his own lack of control killed the wood trying to grow in Marek's khakis. Not in here. Not where I come to talk to Pay.

Colin moved into the greenhouse, wearing an easy smile that proved tougher to ignore than his incredible body. “You'll notice I didn't panic this time when I didn't find you up at the house.” That lethal smile grew even bigger. “See? I'm a fast learner.”

“Uh-huh.” Marek grabbed his bag of vegetables and pushed past Colin with an “Excuse me,” unable to be in this place with Colin and his own memories of Payton.

Catching up, Colin quickly fell in line beside Marek. “I apologize for not coming back yesterday afternoon. I wanted to, but it got dark before I finished my errands, and I'm not used to driving a boat at night.” Colin beat Marek up the steps to the kitchen door and held it open wide for him to pass through. “Especially in a place where I'm not familiar with the waters.”

“Uh-huh.” Please stop sounding so sincere. I don't know how to handle you if you're not working me for money. Marek moved to the sink and turned on the water, letting it run as he dumped the veggies into a colander already sitting in the deep copper basin.

“It's a beautiful day,” Colin said. He leaned against the counter near the sink, much too close for Marek's comfort. “I thought I might go for a swim. I can't believe it's my fourth day in Fiji, and I still haven't tested the waters.”

Rinsing a handful of baby cucumbers one by one, Marek kept his head down, avoiding eye contact.

“I thought if you joined me, we could talk and you might tell me a little bit about Fiji and how you came to live in this house.” Colin tapped his foot against Marek's ankle. “In between having some fun, of course.” He chuckled. “A person ought to be able to say they had a good time when they tell people about vacationing in a paradise like this.”

Colin's energy and seeming sweetness filled the air, generating life all around Marek and infusing the atmosphere with a zest he had not felt since before stepping foot on this island. Colin offered a temporary seduction, innocently or not, and lulled Marek with teases of bright colors in his everyday world of gray. Powerful needs still living inside Marek pushed at him to sink into this man standing next to him, but he couldn't give up his suspicions enough to do it.

“I don't know if you just lucked out,” Colin went on, “or you chose this place deliberately, but in my opinion, you have the prettiest stretch of ocean and beach I've seen around here. You have stunning turquoise water that meets a clean line of white sand. Then you turn around and what do you get? The most luscious tropical backdrop of palms and green-covered mountain around.” Colin laughed again and nudged his shoulder against Marek's, scraping at Marek's buried need for physical contact. “Of course, maybe I'm just prejudiced about the place since I've seen it so often in my dreams.”

Shut up. Shut up. Please stop talking. Right now. Marek jabbed the heel of his hand into the faucet handle and kicked the water pressure up higher in an effort to drown out Colin's voice.

Colin eased a hair away, giving Marek some breathing room. Clearing his throat, Colin said softly, “So, was it the house or the island that grabbed your attention first?”

Clamping his jaw, Marek shut off the water and lifted the colander full of vegetables out of the sink. He shook off the excess moisture and moved across the kitchen to the center island, giving Colin his back.

For a prolonged heartbeat, a thick silence permeated the air. Then Colin said, “Okay, Donovan, so that's how you're going to play this, huh? Give me the silent treatment?” Off the reflection of the glass-front cabinets in front of him, Marek saw Colin step in behind him. Dangerously close. Jesus, I can feel his heat. “That's fine. You don't have to interact with me or answer my questions. I can just keep talking and filling in both sides of the conversation. I warn you, though; I might run out of things to say after a while and resort to singing to fill in the nervous silences. Contrary to popular stereotypes, it won't be with show tunes or Britney either. We're talking eighties and nineties hair metal bands, power ballads mostly. I can't carry a tune to save my life, but I know a lot of Bon Jovi—”

Unable to take this seductive, torturous play anymore, Marek growled and spun around. He grabbed Colin by the shirt and shoved him into the refrigerator. “Jesus Christ, man. Shut up.” Marek uncurled his fist and held Colin pinned with an open palm very near to his throat. “Don't you get what it means when a person doesn't respond