Never Again... Again

By L.A. Witt

Travis has been in love with Mitch since their college days, but they've never been able to make it work. While Travis--now an A-list actor--is out, Mitch is not, and they're both too high-profile to date in secret.

Instead, they make do with the occasional hot liaison in the middle of the night in shady, backwoods motels where no one will catch them. And every time they do, Travis promises himself he's done being the skeleton in Mitch's closet, and it really will be the last time.

Now tonight, he's had enough. He loves Mitch, but he can't keep putting himself through this. Just one more hot night together, and then he's gone...unless Mitch can change his mind before Travis walks out the door forever...

This 10,900 word short story was previously published.

• Language: English
• Publisher: GallagherWitt
• Release date: Nov 17, 2015
• ISBN: 9780996183697

L.A. Witt

L.A. Witt is the author of Back Piece. She is a M/M romance writer who has finally been released from the purgatorial corn maze of Omaha, Nebraska, and now spends her time on the southwestern coast of Spain. In between wondering how she didn’t lose her mind in Omaha, she explores the country with her husband, several clairvoyant hamsters, and an ever-growing herd of rabid plot bunnies.

Book preview

Never Again... Again

by

L. A. Witt

Copyright Information

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Second edition

First edition published in 2013 by Amber Quill Press

Copyright © 2013, 2015 L.A. Witt

Cover Art by Lori Witt

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher, and where permitted by law. Reviewers may quote brief passages in a review. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact L.A. Witt at [e-mail]

ISBN:  978-0-9961836-9-7

Travis has been in love with Mitch since their college days, but they’ve never been able to make it work. While Travis—now an A-list actor—is out, Mitch is not, and they’re both too high-profile to date in secret.

Instead, they make do with the occasional hot liaison in the middle of the night in shady, backwoods motels where no one will catch them. And every time they do, Travis promises himself he’s done being the skeleton in Mitch’s closet, and it really will be the last time.

Now tonight, he’s had enough. He loves Mitch, but he can’t keep putting himself through this. Just one more hot night together, and then he’s gone...unless Mitch can change his mind before Travis walks out the door forever...

CHAPTER 1

I want to make something absolutely clear. Toni turned the car into the motel’s two-lane driveway.

I didn’t look at her. And that is?

I’m doing this because you asked me to. She pulled into a space and shoved the gear shift into park. But I think you’re being a fucking idiot.

She was right and we both knew it, but we were here and I wasn’t turning back. No matter how much I needed to.

Duly noted. Swallowing hard, I faced her, meeting her hard-edged glare in the washed out light from the streetlights. And I do appreciate it. You didn’t have to do this.

Toni exhaled hard. Then her posture relaxed slightly, exasperation replacing irritation. Are you sure about this, Travis?

I nodded. Yeah. I need to see him again.

I know you do, and I totally understand, but... She chewed her lip and faced the rundown motel in the headlights. You told me last time that it was the last time. And the time before that.

And the one before that, I said quietly. And I’d love to tell you that I’m absolutely certain this will be the last time.

Toni sighed, the heavy release of breath echoing the resignation I felt. Then she unbuckled her seatbelt. I’ll be right back.

The driver’s side door opened. Slammed. I half-expected the solid thunk of high heels on pavement, but she’d worn tennis shoes tonight, which took the frustration out of her gait. I told myself that, anyway.

We used to argue every time she brought me to some backwoods motel like this. Around and around, all the reasons why I needed to and why I was an idiot for giving in. Then she’d remind me she thought it was a bad idea before she went into the office to check