Crying for the Moon Read Online Free PDF Page A

some weight behind the handle. “Ugh. It’s on tight this time.”
    “Shall I try?” Alex didn’t want to show him up or Tate would be talking about it in town, but when it came to sheer strength, Alex would win over a human every time.
    “Nah, I’ve got it. You might want to stand back; things are going to get wet here.” Tate paused to peel off his sweater and hand it to Alex. “Here. Take this, would you?” He went back to attempting to turn the wrench.
    Alex raised his eyebrows. Underneath the ratty sweater, Tate was wearing a green muscle shirt. Nothing could have surprised Alex more than the lithe, toned appearance of Tate’s arms and shoulders. “Wow,” he couldn’t help saying. “You must work out.”
    The wrench suddenly shifted and the container loosened, releasing the small amount of water within onto the floor as Tate unscrewed it from the unit.
    “Not really.” Tate shrugged. “I stay pretty busy with work. I do like to rock climb on the weekends though. And hike.” He quickly replaced the cartridge, talking Alex through the procedure as he did so, tightening the container and turning the system back on again to check for leaks. “There you are. Good to go.” He wiped his hands on his jeans and reached for the sweater, taking it back from Alex. “Try that sink over there. You should have water now, though it’s going to sputter a bit from the air in the lines.”
    Alex went over to the sink by the washing machine and turned on the taps. Water gushed out enthusiastically.
    “Wonderful. Thanks.” He looked up to see Tate standing very close to him. In the dim lighting, Tate’s pupils had dilated to the point that only a bare rim of gold was visible. His nipples were peaked on his nicely firm pecs, plainly showing through the cotton shirt. Alex knew it was only because the two of them were in a cold, dark room, but it looked like desire, and something warm pooled in his gut and made him ache to touch Tate.
    Tate smiled at him. “I’ll get the light.”
    He returned to the bare bulb and pulled the string switch again. Alex could hear Tate’s heart beating, almost thunderously, in thick darkness around them, and he licked his lips, shifting his hips restlessly, conscious that he’d become hard and that his jeans were too tight. He was glad for the darkness that hid his sudden desire, but he knew if he didn’t get back upstairs into the light immediately, he’d give in to temptation and jump Tate’s bones. And not in a good way.
    He was silent as they re-entered the kitchen, a little puzzled about his strong reaction to Tate. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d felt such lust for someone, and certainly never before for someone not of his kind.
    “Thank you,” Alex said again, feeling suddenly awkward. The warm lighting of the kitchen seemed to dim the pulsing heat he felt within. Confused, he didn’t know how to end the conversation. He glanced at his watch. Damn it. Nick’s party would be here soon. “I really appreciate the help. I have friends coming over for dinner and I need to get started on it.”
    “Of course. Let me get out of your way. Unless I can help?” Tate tied the sweater around his waist instead of putting it back on. Alex had a brief moment of wondering if Tate knew just how gorgeous he was and suspected that he did. The bulky clothing had to be some sort of protective coloring; Alex was sure of it.
    “I’m just making spaghetti.” It was the only meal Alex knew how to make. “Boil some pasta. Open a jar of sauce. I think I can handle it.” He shrugged.
    Tate raised an eyebrow as he opened the freezer to retrieve the ice cream. “I hate to rain on your parade, but you’ve got nothing to eat in here.” He set the bag containing the ice cream down on the counter.
    He might not be as heavily muscled as Duncan, but Alex thought he preferred Tate’s build instead. With his unconventional hair and his lean, athletic frame, Alex could picture him on a