Maine. Deux hommes. Un seul rivage.Ils sont seuls, libres, et diablement séduisants. Leur rencontre ? Un choc. Une étincelle dans la grisaille. Mais sous les clashs, une tension immédiate, magnétique, qui ne demande qu'à embraser tout sur son passage.
Comme les phares qui veillent sur la côte sauvage du Maine, cette attraction devient leur guide. Elle éclaire les écueils d'un amour naissant, balise le chemin chaotique et inconnu qui mène à l'autre.
Dans la tempête des doutes et des désirs, il sera leur lumière fixe, leur gardien. Celui qui protège la flamme, assure la traversée et, finalement, les ramène toujours au port l'un de l'autre.
Une histoire où l'amour ne s'allume pas d'un coup, mais couve longtemps pour mieux incendier les cœurs.
Maine. Deux mecs. Un clash électrique.
Ils sont libres, sexy, et ne se cherchaient pas. À première vue, ça part en vrille. Sauf que... l'étincelle est trop forte. Elle s'impose, tenace, comme un phare dans la tempête.
Leur amour sera cette lumière brute et constante qui balise les eaux inconnues, apaise les frayeurs et les guide, vagues après vagues, vers le seul havre qui vaille : l'un l'autre.
Un slow burn intense et sensuel, à l'atmosphère envoûtante. Préparez-vous à avoir le cœur.
Two men in Maine; single, sexy and One scrappy meeting - one clash - but with powerful undercurrents of instant attraction, desire and love. Like the lighthouses on the coast of Maine - a shining beacon which guides their heart and soul down the stormy, unchartered path of true love; keeps their love safe and brings them gently and surely to safe harbor. The lighthouse of eternal love - the Keeper of their hearts.
He was waiting outside the OP, there for his student who had been injured during a fight over a phone. As he sat, casually glancing at his own phone, he suddenly heard the faint sound of a baby crying. Curious, he turned toward the sound-and froze.
There, outside the pediatric care unit, sat his wife with their son crying in her arms.
His heart ached-it had been months since he last saw his son. His gaze shifted to his wife, gently consoling the child. Her face looked tired, pale, and completely drained.
Without a second thought, he stood, tears welling in his eyes. Each step he took felt heavy, his chest tightening with every cry from his son.
As he neared, he saw her clothes were faded and worn. Her feet were bare, hardened from walking-clearly straight from the farm. His heart clenched.
His eyes moved to his son-he had grown so much. She was so focused on calming the baby that she didn't notice him at first. Tears filled her eyes as she held their feverish child close.
He softly called her name.
Startled, she looked up-and froze. Then she quickly lowered her gaze and tried to get up. He gently placed a hand on her shoulder, stopping her. She sat back down, turning her face away, quietly wiping her tears.
He reached out to take their son. The moment he held him, he felt the heat-his little body was burning with fever. A chill ran through him. After all these months, seeing his child like this was unbearable.
He loved his wife and son deeply, but his loyalty to his mother-and obedience to her word-always came first.
Between a mother who owned his soul and a wife who held his heart, he was a man torn in a cruel war of love and loyalty.
And she-she had given her all to a promise whispered beneath the sacred fire... never knowing that one day, she'd be holding her child, with nothing but a faded vow.