Chapter 13
Colton
I pace. Not sleep. Pace.
I already showered off the…mess from whatever the fuck that was in Noah’s barn. Now I’m dressed in fresh clothes, the sky above me dark as my feet carry me along the river running through our property. The moon reflects brightly off the surface of the still water, my boots leaving treads in the soft ground. I kick at a tall weed, feeling none the better.
What the fuck was that?
One minute, Noah and I were fighting. And then…
I groan, the memories assaulting me against my will, not all of them unpleasant.
I liked that. Liked Noah shoving me against the table. Liked him holding me down and— fuck —jerking me off, his hand callused and so fucking big there was no way to mistake him for anything other than a man.
A man.
I just had…sex? Can I even call it that? With a man.
But it was Noah . And that’s the one piece of the equation I did not like. The asshole made me beg .
Jesus Christ, how am I ever going to face him again?
I spin and walk in the other direction, realizing I’m a good couple miles away from the house now. It’s quiet out, not even the cows in the fields next to where I’m walking making any noise.
It had to be the manhandling. I simply discovered—through sheer accident—some sort of kink I didn’t know I had because none of the women I’ve been with have ever tried pushing me around.
The question is…
Is that all? Or did I also like the fact that it was a man doing it?
I certainly didn’t hate Noah’s size. Didn’t hate the smell of him or how roughly he held me. Didn’t even hate the feel of his cock pressed against my ass.
If he were any other guy, I would have been curious enough to touch him back and—
Well, shit.
I think that answers my question, doesn’t it?
Does it?
Fuck . Why does this have to be so damn complicated? Why can’t I just know ? Who realizes at thirty-seven fucking years old that they might have a little untriggered thing for dudes?
And why did it have to be Noah? Of all the people in the goddamn world to wake up this side of me, why did it have to be him ?
“Fuck!”
My shout rings in the air for a moment before an owl hoots an answering call.
Exhausted, buzzing, and more confused than ever, I head back to the ranch house and try my best to sleep.
I don’t sleep.
Despite my best efforts, I can’t shut off my brain, which is why I find myself out of bed before the ass crack of dawn, shoving perfectly crispy strips of bacon into my mouth. The dining room is bustling, the first-shift ranchers eating their breakfast as usual to fuel up before the start of their busy day. Some will head off to milk the dairy cows after this. Others will saddle up horses and ride west, overseeing the many acres of land over which our beef cattle roam.
Jackson will make sure everything is running smoothly, as he does every day. Ash will keep us all happily fed. Remi will take care of the horses and the animals at the petting farm. Lawson will head into town to the school to teach bright young minds the genius of William Shakespeare or Harper Lee. My mom will probably work on her vegetable gardens, getting beds ready for planting and putting up trellises. My dad will…I dunno. Tend to the honey bees he got last year, maybe?
And me?
I’ll be shoeing horses as if my life didn’t just irrevocably change last night. As if I’m the same person I was a couple days ago, when I know, for a fact, that isn’t true. I am changed.
I just don’t know if it’s for the better.
My morning passes in a fog. Changing shoes. Trimming hooves. Trying—and failing—to banish thoughts of Noah every time a horse nibbles on my back or neck.
“I want you to know that all you have to do is ask and it’s yours.”
Fuck.
I drive to my appointments, keeping my eyes peeled each time I’m on the road, like I might see Noah’s bike or his blue pickup. I eat lunch at home, not daring to venture into town. And I repeat the process all over again in the afternoon.
Shoes. Hooves. Tiny bites on my arms and attempts to grab my hair. Noah.
“Beg me for it, little Colt.”
Nope, nope, nope.
More driving. Dinner at the ranch. A few looks thrown my way from my family that I ignore.
By the time my day is well and truly done, so am I. I take a shower, my legs feeling like lead, and fall onto my mattress.
A soft knock comes a moment later. “Colt?”
“Come in,” I tell my brother.
Remi eases the door open, concern obvious on his face. “Hey. You doing okay?”
I’m not surprised he noticed something off with me, but I don’t know what the fuck to say to him. How to explain I’m having a sexual crisis because I begged my longstanding rival to make me come and busted a nut so intense I thought, for a second, I might pass out.
“Do you think,” I say slowly, “you could bring me to a gay club this weekend?”
Remi’s eyebrows fly up. “Did you say a gay club?”
I nod, turning my face more fully his way so he can read me better. “I’m kind of freaking out over here.”
Remi closes the door and comes over quickly, slapping my legs out of the way so he can take a seat. I ease into a sitting position against the headboard, my chest feeling tight.
“Explain,” my brother says.
“Fuck, Remi. I let Noah…” I stop and hastily spell out, ‘jerk me off,’ before continuing in voice. “And I didn’t hate it, even though you know I hate him. So now I needa…test it? Figure myself out, I guess? Because what the fuck? Like, what the actual fuck?”
“Okay,” Remi says slowly, easing out a breath I replicate on instinct. “Noah?”
I nod.
“As in Noah King?”
“Do we know any others?” I groan before rubbing my eyes.
“Just checking,” he says mildly, sounding borderline amused. “How did it happen? Do I even wanna know?”
I shake my head furiously.
“But you think you might be into guys?” he asks.
I let my hands drop from my face and nod. “How’d you know?”
Remi tilts his head back and forth. “I guess, for me, it was more a matter of realizing I like people . Not genders.”
“But you…like dick?” I ask, cringing.
Remi’s lips twitch, evil spawn that he is. “Oh, yes.”
“God,” I groan out, rubbing my face again. “Forget I asked. I do not need to hear details of your sex life. Not a single goddamn one.”
Remi flicks me in the chest, and I drop my hands, realizing I’d been covering my mouth.
“Sorry,” I say more clearly. “I said I don’t need any more details, little bro. I’d have to bleach my brain.”
He snorts. “Yet you want me to take you to a gay club. I’ve only been once, you know.”
“But will you?” I ask, pulling out the face that was most successful in scoring me extra cookies as a child.
Remi rolls his eyes. “Of course I will. Wanna invite Jackson and Ash?”
“Could we maybe just…keep this between us for now?”
He locks his lips. “Done. It’ll be okay, you know. Any which way.”
“I know,” I say on a sigh.
It’s not the thought of being bisexual that’s scary. Not really.
It’s learning something so fundamental to my being that I never realized before. It’s the fear of wondering why now?
Why him?
“Get some sleep,” my brother says, patting my leg as he stands. “You look like a raccoon.”
“Do not,” I protest hotly. “Take it back.”
My brother shoots me a one-handed, ‘I love you,’ as he walks out the door. I let out a sigh, knocking my head back against the wall.
This will be good. I’ll go to a club, check out some guys, and then I should know, right? If I’m attracted to any of them, that answers my question. And, if not…
I don’t want to think about if not .
I’m just settling down in bed, lights off, when my phone dings. With a grumble, I snatch the device off my nightstand, only to come up short.
Unknown: Are you okay?
Nooo . No, it’s not. Is it?
My response is four incredulous letters.
Me: King?
My phone pings again, and I nearly drop it.
Unknown: Your detective work is superb, little Colt.
“Oh, fuck you, you fucking…”
My fingers fly across the keyboard, blood pumping hot.
Me: How’d you get my number?
Unknown: Christ. Let me ask again. Are. You. Okay?
Me: What’s it to you?
My chest heaves as I wait for his response, having no clue what I want him to say. Why is he even texting? He doesn’t actually care , does he? No fucking way.
For a split second, I debate blocking his number. Instead, I save the contact.
Noah: Fuck, Colton. I want to make sure I didn’t force myself on you.
I freeze, everything around me stilling before I exhale in a whoosh.
He’s been worrying he—what? Took advantage of me? While I’ve been freaking out over my sexuality, Noah King has been thinking…
Me: You didn’t. I wouldn’t have let you.
A long pause.
Noah: You’re okay?
“Jesus,” I groan, my voice low.
Me: We’re not doing this. We’re not friends, Noah. Won’t ever be.
Noah: I’m well aware.
Me: So how I am is none of your concern.
Noah: Do you have to be such a stubborn ass all the time?
Before I can fire off a comeback, my phone rings.
“The fuck?”
I don’t answer, blinking at Noah’s name on my screen. The call goes to voicemail, and another text comes through.
Noah: Pick up your phone, Colt.
Noah: Or I’m coming over.
I hit call, and Noah answers not one ring later.
“The fuck is your problem?” I demand.
“Really? You wonder why I might be a little concerned after last night? Neither of us was expecting that—”
“No shit.”
“—and you left like your ass was on fire. Excuse me for wanting to make sure you weren’t going off the deep end.”
“I’m not that fragile, Noah. Believe it or not, you didn’t manage to break me.”
He practically growls. “Oh, fuck you, Colt. I know you think I’m this terrible person, but I would never intentionally hurt you. Not like you hurt me.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask, my mind flitting rapidly through the events of last night. Is he talking about me stomping on his foot?
“All I wanted to know is if you’re all right,” he grits out. “But clearly, you’re the same Colton Darling as ever.”
Except I’m not the same as I was before. But I won’t give Noah the satisfaction of admitting he’s the reason why.
“I’m fine,” I tell him, forcing myself to believe the words. “So leave me be.”
“Fine,” he spits.
“ Fine .”
Noah hangs up, and I puff out a breath, nearly slamming my phone back onto my nightstand. I hope no one can hear me screaming into my pillow.
After I punch the fluffy rectangle back into shape, I plop my head down and stare up at the moonlit ceiling above, trying not to remember the feel of Noah’s hand wrapped around my cock. Trying not to recall the sound of his voice or the sheer relief I felt when he trapped me against that table, taking away my option to flee.
I try my best to put Noah fucking King out of my mind.
And I hate that I fail.