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    How Could Love Be Wrong?
    How Could Love Be Wrong?
    How Could Love Be Wrong?
    Ebook68 pages1 hour

    How Could Love Be Wrong?

    By B.G. Thomas

    ()

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    About this ebook

    As a teenage boy, Clay finds love for the first time with his best friend, Matthew—a love shattered by Matthew’s guilt and religious dogma. Later, as a young man, Clay is blessed with the love of a woman, a close companion who accepts him for who he is even though he can never give her the devotion she deserves in return. But Clay might be able to put his guilt and disappointment behind him—if he can learn to accept love from an unexpected source.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherDreamspinner Press
    Release dateJun 1, 2011
    ISBN9781613720295
    How Could Love Be Wrong?
    Author

    B.G. Thomas

    B.G. Thomas lives in Kansas City with his two husbands—which yes, is different, but amazingly rewarding and wonderfully romantic. They have two sweet rescue dogs named Oliver (who the breed name Dorkie applies perfectly) and Frodo (who is just learning to be a dog). He is missing his soul dog Sarah Jane very much, but she will live on forever in several of his books and in his heart. He is also blessed to have a lovely daughter and they love to hang out. B.G. loves to read romance, comedy, fantasy, thrillers, mystery, science fiction, and even horror—as far as he is concerned, as long as the stories are character driven and entertaining, it doesn’t matter the genre. He has gone to literature conventions his entire adult life, where he’s been lucky enough to meet many of his favorite writers. He has made up stories since he was a child; it’s where he finds his joy. In the nineties, he wrote for gay adult magazines but stopped because the editors wanted all sex without plot, and edited his setups right out. “The sex is never as important as the characters,” he says. “Who cares what they are doing if we don’t care about them?” Excited about the growing male/male romance market—where setup and cute meets is where it’s at—he began writing again. He submitted a novella and was thrilled when it was accepted in four days. Since then the romantic tales have poured out of him. “It’s like I’m somehow making up for a lifetime’s worth of story-telling!” “Leap, and the net will appear” is his personal philosophy and his message. “It is never too late,” he testifies. “Pursue your dreams. They will come true!” You can read about whatever he’s working on right now or whatever he’s rambling on about at his website/blog at: bthomaswriter.wordpress.com Facebook: www.facebook.com/bgthomaswriter Twitter: twitter.com/BGThomasBooks He is always happy to hear from his readers!

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      Book preview

      How Could Love Be Wrong? - B.G. Thomas

      Dedication

      For John Lenz

      A real son of a preacher man

      (and a preacher lady too!)

      and one of the best friends

      anyone could ever ask for

      How Could Love Be Wrong

      IT IS the most beautiful night in the world. I am sitting at a small table on the patio of our room, overlooking the beach. A warm breeze off the ocean stirs my hair and brings me the sound of the gentle breaking waves and the scent of salt air. The moon has risen, clear and bright and full, and as I look at it I can understand why ancient man would have worshipped it. It seems to defy what is feasible, floating impossibly in the sky. Gorgeous! Artemis, Luna, Thoth; they seem to call to me.

      Reveal yourself! Throw off your garment and run naked as you were the day you were born into our light. Cast yourself into the sea. Baptize yourself.

      Why do I hesitate? Who will see me but sand and sea and ancient gods? There is almost no one about tonight. In fact, all I hear are those waves. It is off-season, most of the hotels empty and awaiting tourist season. Is my robe a habit of years of hiding myself? Do I dare?

      I do!

      I throw off my robe and stand naked, my arms held up to the sky.

      This moon and I are old friends. We have talked many times, words of anger and hurt and tears and love.

      Tonight? Tonight it is a lover’s moon.

      Lover. Was there ever a more beautiful word? And all I have to do is turn my head, look through the open glass doors into our room, and see him there asleep on our bed. He nodded off almost the moment we finished making love. But me? I am restless and here I stand, looking at his angelic face resting on that pillow. The moon is that bright, and my heart speeds up at the sight of him.

      Dare I risk the anger of Diana and say his face is even more beautiful than her own?

      I turn back and see that white-blue orb hang over the ocean, its reflection cast on the water’s surface, its light shining on the white sands that stretch seemingly forever to my left and right. It looks like snow, and suddenly I am back to a night long ago. It was snow camp, and my best friend and I had crept away from our companions. It was a full moon that night as well and it made his face look like silver. The air was cold but clean and crisp and invigorating. The chill did not keep us from pleasing each other, meeting each other’s needs, kissing beneath that moon.

      But that was a lifetime ago.

      My first love.

      Love has come into my life three times.

      The first time I offered love.

      The second I received it.

      And finally, finally, love given and freely returned.

      I look back again, at his beautiful face, and once more my heart swells in rapture. Will I ever look at him without feeling like this?

      Perhaps.

      But not tonight.

      Tonight is all about love.

      WHEN I was eighteen years old, my very best friend in the world took our friendship to a place I had never hoped possible.

      We were in the back of his father’s church, of all places—the man was one of the town ministers—and we were up there cleaning the baptismal. We were talking and the conversation drifted to sex, as it often does with teenage boys, and before we knew it we were naked.

      There we were on the floor of the pool where his father baptized his parishioners and we were sucking each other’s cocks.

      His name was Matthew. We’d been friends for years, and I probably fell in love with him the day we met.

      Matthew was beautiful. Every time I looked at him it felt like my heart just wanted to fly right up out of my chest. He had the bluest eyes I had ever seen and except for the dark black hair on his head, his armpits, and the thick bush that surrounded his penis, he was as smooth as could be. His skin was like marble. I don’t ever remember a single pimple to mar what I considered perfection.

      I was not so lucky. Acne seemed to ravage my face and shoulders and back. It would have been a whole lot worse if not for Matthew constantly insisting I scrub my face and snatching bottles of pop from my hand.

      We had plenty of opportunities to see each other naked. We grew up in a small town in Missouri called Terra’s Gate, which was more than an hour outside of Kansas City. Of course Kansas City has grown through the years. I figure one day it will just swallow my hometown whole.

      But either way, it was far enough away that

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