Ghost

By Robin Covington

 

 

 

 

 

 

Oliver Burns knew sneaking out on the most delicious one-night-stand he ever had would come back and bite him in the ass. Caught up in his own swagger when he was named to the "30 under 30" list, he publicly bragged that his next goal was to sign the reclusive artist "G" to his talent roster at his comic publishing company and now he's got to make it happen. 

 

Oliver can only laugh when he realizes that the guy he pulled a post-sex runner on a couple of years earlier is Gareth Rain, also know as "G" – creator of the FirstNations graphic novel juggernaut, Ghost Warriors – and the one man he always regretted leavingbehind. But Oliver didn't get to thetop by giving up, so now he's laserfocused on two things: gettingGareth on his team and back in hisbed.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Robin Covington
• Release date: May 14, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223891406

Robin Covington

A USAToday and Wall Street Journal bestseller, Robin Covington loves to explore the theme of fooling around and falling in love in her books. A Native American author, she proudly writes diverse romance where everyone gets their happily ever after. Robin is an unapologetic comic book geek, hoards red nail polish and stalks Chris Evans. She is thoroughly obsessed with her Corgi, Dixie Joan Wilder (Yes – THE Joan Wilder).

Book preview

Ghost

ghost

Robin Covington

Burning Up the Sheets, LLC.

contents

Untitled

Ghost

Prologue

Oliver

Gareth

Oliver

Gareth

Oliver

Gareth

Oliver

Gareth

Gareth

Gareth

Gareth

A Note From the Author

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About the Author

GHOST

BY

ROBIN COVINGTON

ghost

Oliver Burns knew sneaking out on the most delicious one-night-stand he ever had would come back and bite him in the ass. Caught up in his own swagger when he was named to the 30 over 30 list, he publicly bragged that his next goal was to sign the reclusive artist G to his talent roster at his comic publishing company and now he’s got to make it happen.

So, Oliver can only laugh when he realizes that the guy he pulled a post-sex runner on a couple of years earlier is Gareth Rain, also known as G – creator of the First Nations graphic novel juggernaut, Ghost Warriors – and the one man he always regretted leaving behind. But Oliver didn't get to the top by giving up, so now he's laser-focused on two things: getting Gareth on his team and back in his bed.

To my Grandfather – the one who made our ancestors part of my life and who gave me my first comic book.

This book is a love letter to both of our passions: our Native heritage and hours spent curled up with our favorite heroes.

prologue

OLIVER

I could still feel his hands all over me.

Calloused. Broad. Long, ink-stained, sexy fingers that I’d wanted wrapped around my dick from the first moment I’d spotted him drawing on the con floor.

They’d felt even better in real life. Slick with spit, lube, and pre-cum and tight on me while he ordered me not to shoot. He’d made it worth the wait.

Damn. I really wanted to get back in that bed.

The guy, Gareth, was sprawled on the massive bed of his hotel room, long, muscular legs wrapped up in the twist of the few sheets remaining on the mattress, the rest of the bedding strewn all over the floor with condom wrappers and empty bottles of booze from the mini-bar. The room was trashed in that let’s-fuck-and-be-as-dirty-as-we-want-because-this-is-never-gonna-happen-again way that makes you glad you aren’t going to see the housekeeper ever again. My freshly-fucked ass clenched in anticipation as I recalled just how many ways he’d taken me and how I’d given in to this particular sexy fucker.

At twenty years old and several years younger than me, he wasn’t anything like the older men I usually took to my bed. But there was something about his eyes, his soul that spoke of years of living his flesh did not disclose. Quiet and intense, he’d captured my attention and my interest and, like most things in my life, I didn’t give up until I had him.

His copper skin was darker in the low light of the pre-dawn morning that broke through the places where the curtains didn’t quite meet. Shadows contoured the dips of his muscles and obscured the beauty of his body. I wanted to turn on the light and get a better look, a closer look, a look that I would burn on my brain like it was a brand on my skin. His tattoos, too many to count, played peek-a-boo with me through the waist-length fall of his ink-black hair and I remembered the taste of them on my tongue.

As cliché as it sounded, his hair was like silk on my skin, wrapping itself around me as we tumbled together on the sheets. I fucking loved his hair, had confessed it against the sweat-slick of his skin sometime in the darkest hours of the night and refused to be ashamed of it now. The light of day might make me rethink the booze, but I wouldn't feel bad about taking this boy to my bed.

I also wouldn’t acknowledge the regret pricking at my mind over leaving Gareth behind. I wanted to stay.

I never wanted to stay.

I wouldn’t leave a number.

I wouldn’t make plans to do this again.

I would walk out of this room and get back to what I needed to do. To build my company and prove that I could do this on my own.

So, I did what I did best.

I left.

oliver

Three years later.

The George Peabody Library, Baltimore, MD

They have a robe for you to wear, you know.

I looked over at Ellis and down at the fluffy, white robe she dangled from her fingertips and thrust in my direction. It looked comfortable, lush, and very warm. I didn't need it. I wasn't cold, and nudity was never an issue for me

The library space where we stood soared six stories upward to the most majestic and intricately paned skylight I'd ever seen. A testament to neo-Greco architecture, the ornamental black, cast iron balconies and gold-scalloped columns testified as to why the 140-year old building was one of the most beautiful in the world and why the 30 Under 30 people had chosen it for my film location. The crew for the Hot Naked Guys Reading charity calendar shoot was bustling around us, moving equipment and props for the next set of photographs. I'd been here for a couple of hours already, doing my part for charity by posing naked . . . while reading. Hotly. As you do.

I'm good, thanks, I said, grinning at the inevitable flip of her bottle green hair off her face so that I could receive the full brunt of her oh-so-dramatic eye roll. My best friend since college, a former lover, and a current business partner was annoyed with me. And since it was her self-appointed task to attempt to keep me in some sort of line with the rest of society, annoyed was a mood she spent of a lot of time experiencing around me.

One day she'd realize that keeping me in check was a fruitless endeavor, but I hoped it wasn't too soon. It was my singular joy to bug the shit out of her at every opportunity.

Yeah, I’m sure you are but nobody here wants to spend all day staring at your somewhat impressive junk.

That deserved the glare I nailed her with, my gaze set to stun but just a hair’s breadth from death ray.

Somewhat impressive? What the . . . I sputtered with genuine shock at the