Now available as a single release...(you can also find this in the antho from Story Orgy—And The Prompt Is...Holiday Edition)
And The Prompt Is...A Trace of Christmas Spirit
Ever since his brother's death, Camden doesn't do Christmas. This is exactly what he plans to tell his bigoted parents on what will be his last Christmas trip up north. But when he gets snowed-in with the eccentric and way too jolly Trace, just maybe spirits can be revived.
You can find And The Prompt Is...A Trace of Christmas Spirit
Camden jumped, which caused him to stagger backward onto the towel the stranger was pointing to. "Holy shit, you scared me!"
"I never understood that expression. Why would shit ever be holy? No preacher I know would bless it. You people have the strangest sayings." The stranger walked toward him and started unzipping his jacket.
"Hey! What are you doing?" Camden chattered out as he tried to push the guy's persistent hands away from him. "Stop that!"
The man ignored his protests and worked around Cam's hands to finally open up the article of clothing he was infatuated with. "You are covered in snow and soaking wet. If we don't get these off of you, pneumonia is in your imminent future. That will not do, it would make no one happy."
Cam was roughly turned around as the jacket was yanked down his arms and thrown in a basket set by the towel.
"Hmm. Your sweater is also damp, what were you doing? Making snow angels? Off with this, too."
Again, without his permission, his sweater was quickly dragged up his chest and over his head. He raised his arms last minute in fear that this psycho would actually take them off if they didn't cooperate.
"Who the hell are you? And where are you from?" Cam had noticed a unique accent that he couldn't place, not that he was an accent expert or anything.
"Shouldn't I be asking you those questions? You are standing in my parlor, after all."
Camden took a second to get a good look at this guy. Well, if nothing else came from this strange meeting, at least he was hot. Not in the ordinary make-his-jeans-drop-and-beg-to-be-done-right way… more in the interesting-to-look-at-and-study-because-did-his-eyes-just-twinkle-and-change-color way. And Cam swore they just did both. When this man walked over to Cam he distinctly had blue eyes, now they looked more lavender and they, Camden couldn't even believe he was thinking this, but they really did sparkle or something. Maybe he wore contacts.
Aside from the eyes, the man had a slightly larger than normal nose and high forehead, blond bangs hanging shaggily to the side. The rest of his blond hair was tousled and fell just below the collar of his pullover sweater. Oh, but his lips were tempting too. Camden was a sucker for a good set of lips with a distinctive cupid's bow.
The man ran his hands over Camden's chest. When his fingertips rubbed over Cam's nipples innocently enough, he had to bite his lip to stop the moan.
Cam swatted at those roaming hands again. "Fine! I'm Camden Bartels and I'm from Miami. Now does my chest pass your inspection?"
"Yes. This shirt is dry, you may keep it on."
"Well, thank you so much. Do you always treat your guests like this?"
"Technically, I never invited you in. So if we were to use your Merriam Webster dictionary's definition, then you aren't a guest. Those pants are wet, take them off."
Camden never thought that he could feel indignant about a gorgeous man wanting him to undress, but at this moment—hell yeah he could. "Not happening. And I always preferred the Oxford dictionary myself."