litagentsaritza 's review for:

Love & Loyalty by Tere Michaels

4.0

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I devoured this book in one night (one of the many reasons I'm typing this review under highly-caffeinated influence) and boy was it worth the lack of sleep!

Summary: Detective James “Jim” Shea is a Seattle homicide detective who has never taken his work home with him – until now. A case has gotten under his skin and though it’s “over," it isn’t for Jim. The emotional toll has left him vulnerable and tied to the victim’s dying father.

Meanwhile, Hollywood comes calling for a hot story, and screenwriter Griffin Drake sees the tragic case as his ticket to more serious fare than his usual action blockbusters. But to get the whole story he needs to win over the stoic and protective Detective Shea.

Neither man has had much luck when it comes to romance or long-term relationships and neither is particularly looking but there's an attraction from their first meeting that can’t be denied. Their impromptu first date seems to have no end in sight – quickly becomes a barreling freight train of romance.

Looming problems outside threaten their relationship – death, secrets and broken trust – and they'll have to learn loyalty to save their newfound love.

What I liked about this book: Unlike [b:Faith Fidelity|4801582|Faith & Fidelity|Tere Michaels|http://photo.goodreads.com/books/1224034969s/4801582.jpg|4866696] (where we first meet James [Jim:] Shea) this story is not about coming to terms with your sexuality as both Griffin and Jim are happily out of the closet. However, this story is as gut-wrenching as her first book and I'm starting to think, Michaels enjoys torturing her characters... and her readers by proxy. :)

On the surface, Jim and Griffin could not be more different but as their relationship grows, you begin to see why these two couldn't possibly live without the other. Griffin's the young, carefree screenplay writer. Jim's the middle-aged, reserved, homicide detective with serious OCD issues. Match made in heaven, right? Right! The conflict in this one is not as angst-ridden as the first book but once again, Michaels manages to vividly detail a character death that had me sobbing into my pillow at 4 AM.

Excerpt: He didn't let Jim wander too far; he rubbed flat palms over Jim's chest and stomach to reacquaint himself with that fine body. He wanted to move to the part where Jim was naked, but the anticipation was enough for now.

“Let's lie down,” he murmured, hands moving to unbutton the other man's shirt. “More comfortable that way.” He loosened Jim's shirt and reached for his belt as Jim slowly set him on fire with a sultry look. First the buttons, then the belt, then the awkward and sexy shimmy out of his pants. Griffin ran his tongue over his lips, then mimicked the move on Jim's mouth until they both swayed.
Griffin gave Jim a tiny push toward the bed, that swagger back again. The straining erection tenting those Boy Scout tighty whities told him everything he wanted—but Jim's eyes explained what he needed. It made him feel like a god to know that so clearly, without words being said.

“No boots on the bed,” Jim said, cheeky and breathless. And ridiculously hot. Griffin felt his retinas burning as his eyes raked over Jim's muscled body.

“You're going to vacuum when I fall asleep, aren't you?”

“No. Maybe,” Jim admitted, lying back on the bed. “I might dust too.”

“Well, then I'm going to have to work hard to make sure you can't move.” Griffin toed off his boots and pushed them to the side, following with his socks and shirt. Now in an undershirt and jeans, he walked slowly to stand next to the bed.

If he thought too much, he would be overwhelmed by how this man made him feel. Jim Shea was so far out of his league that he thought this might be Opposite Day. Because in the real world, men who looked like Jim got one look at his slightly geeky exterior and pegged Griffin for a good-time bottom who would understand why they never called after that night.

Jim Shea didn't look at him that way. His blue eyes were needy and hopeful and apprehensive, and Griffin soaked it up. He couldn't keep Jim waiting another second; he pressed his hands on the firm mattress, palms flat on either side of Jim's massive shoulders. Jim didn't move, he just sort of…exhaled…and Griffin's slow route got detoured.

He swung one leg over Jim's hips and knelt over him.

Jim still didn't move, though the energy and anticipation leaped up into Griffin's skin. He leaned down, licking his lips as their eyes held until the last second—and then that slow, sexy kissing ignited once again.
Griffin loved to kiss, loved that hungry push of tongues and teasing chase. He loved the taste of a man—in this case, Jim was steak and coffee with a piece-of-gum chaser, exactly the way Mr. Tough Guy should taste.

All that power and strength stayed coiled, though; Griffin knew that Jim could toss him across the room if he wanted, but clearly all he was angling for right now was Griffin pressing him down on the bed.

Jim's hands came up, strong but tentative, and four seconds later Griffin was engulfed by his white T-shirt—then that was gone. The cool air made him shiver, but Jim took care of that too, ghosting his fingers over Griffin's bare skin.
Will not flinch, not ticklish right at this really perfect moment, he thought, moving his mouth off and on Jim's to catch his breath. “Feels good,” he murmured, gently reassuring Jim as his eyes drifted closed. Those callused fingers counted his ribs, diagrammed his spine, and drifted around to rub over Griffin's nipples.

“Ahhh, amazingly good.” Griffin exhaled, dropping his ass down to sit on Jim's upper thighs as his hand moved to Jim's fly. He needed relief; Jim seemed to think so too as their fingers joined together to unbutton and unzip the fly all the way down. This brought those overabused erections against each other again through dampening cotton, and both men moaned.

And then Griffin moaned louder, because damn, that little concert sounded hot.

“We should, uh… How about me without my pants?” Griffin talked under his breath, scrabbling at the waistband of his jeans. Of course it wasn't going to work unless he stood up—a quick look revealed the ceiling fan pretty high up, and he unfolded off Jim to stand and unbutton his jeans.

And looked down to see himself straddled over Jim—who was laughing.

“Something funny?”

“No.” Jim kept smiling, though.

Griffin tried to breathe and kick off the jeans without falling off the bed. Because he was damned if this evening was going to end with him in an emergency room.

Now sans jeans, Griffin put his hands on his hips and shot Jim his best sexy-pirate look. Jim tucked his hands behind his head and shot a sexy look up of his own.

It was all mind-blowingly perfect, like he'd written this man and date and moment himself. And now, because it was real life and not a movie set, Griffin was starting to catch a cool breeze. He dropped back down to his knees, once again straddling Jim's marble-sculpted body.

“You wanna… I need…” Griffin fumbled for a moment, sucked dry of proper word usage as Jim surged up against him. They were face-to-face, and Jim didn't look so amused anymore. He looked starving.

“Left nightstand, top drawer,” he answered, quick and quiet. Griffin nodded, then leaned forward for a kiss, twining his hands together at the back of Jim's neck, rubbed his palms against the tense cords of the other man's skin.
He lost himself again in Jim and the kiss, open mouths and quick, darting tongues.

“Just so you know, I'm a product of the eighties and a latex king. Very clean,” Griffin managed between kisses. Jim nodded and pulled Griffin down on top of him, pushed his knees up so Griffin's weight was heavy on his chest.

It was the perfect position for kissing, the ideal angle for rubbing dick against dick, their respective pairs of underwear both a hindrance and a help to keep from popping off too soon; Griffin supposed it might be where he'd like to live forever.

The urge to fuck was still there—very strong, very much so—but Griffin felt contentment spreading through his bones, thick and hot. Jim didn't seem in a hurry either, hands tangling through Griffin's hair and down his back.

Another deep stroke of his tongue and Jim bucked upward; Griffin felt a fire pumping up in his blood and pressed his palms against Jim's shoulders.
He held him down and kissed him and tasted the breathless moans, and the urge to fuck roared back.

He attacked Jim's granite jawline and down his neck, running his teeth over the sharp pulse. Vampiric urges swelled up as he tested the strength of his teeth against Jim's skin until he felt the…give…until he felt that he could burst through and taste Jim and yeah, taste him—he wanted to taste him.

“Put your legs down,” Griffin ground out, shimmying down until he could kneel between Jim's spread-open knees, looking up at that vast landscape of man—desperate, hot, wanting man whose expectation made Griffin smile wickedly.

“Hold on,” he said as he grabbed the waistband of Jim's underwear and pulled down.