Chapter 3 #5
“Which accounts for the injuries.”
How did she know I’d been injured? “Ma’am?”
“Cyrus told us earlier you’d been hurt not too long ago, but he didn’t say how. Bull riding must be very dangerous.”
I shrugged.
“You don’t think so?”
“It takes a toll, but so does workin’ a ranch or bein’ out on the road.”
“And you’ve been on the road a long time, haven’t you.”
“Yes, ma’am, I have.”
Her lips were pressed together tight as she stood up. “Okay. I’m going to bed.”
I didn’t expect her to walk around the coffee table, put a hand on my cheek, and kiss me on the other.
“Me too,” Rachel echoed her mother-in-law, darting over to me and kissing my forehead. “Good night, Weber.”
Fuck.
“Good night, everyone.” Mr. Benning smiled, and then he too walked by me, patted my shoulder, squeezed it, and followed his wife up to bed.
I couldn’t stifle my groan.
“What?” Cy asked me.
“They all think I’m some sad sack now. For Pete’s sake, Cy, why’d you have to go and tell ’em I’m a damn orphan and get all maudlin on me?”
“I—”
Lyn’s breath caught, and then she leaned sideways and hugged me tight.
“Oh, for crissakes.” I groaned louder that time, and Cy chuckled softly.
After a minute, I ordered Lyn to get the hell off me, and I went to take a shower.
Cy and I had a small room at the end of the hall on the second floor, and we had to share a bathroom with others.
When I was on my way back to our room, sleep shorts hanging off my hips, hair sticking straight up, too hot to put on my T-shirt yet, I heard someone call me. Ross.
I tipped my head and squinted, sizing him up.
Usually, I didn’t make snap judgments about people.
I took my time deciding if I liked them or not.
But Ross was different. I hated him. And I wasn’t stupid; I knew why.
He easily deserved the man I was crazy about, and I did not, plus he looked like a damn fashion model.
He and Cy fit. Me and Cy were a train wreck waiting to happen.
“You heard me and Brett talking earlier, didn’t you?”
I nodded.
He took a breath. “I’m sorry. That was rude. I mean, I’ll still ask Cyrus out once you’re gone, but for now, I’m leaving in the morning. I can’t compete with the whole orphaned-cowboy bullshit.”
I moved to walk around him.
“It’s crap, though.”
I stopped and looked at him.
“You don’t leave a man who looks like that, or works that job, or has the financial portfolio he has.
You just don’t. You keep thinking you can ride off and he’ll be here when you get back each time, and that’s idiotic.
You should not even have a choice. A man like you, lacking in prospects and everything else, where do you get off even being here or—”
Someone gasped, and we both looked to the end of the hall, where the sound had come from. Cy was standing in the bedroom doorway, wrapped in a big, fluffy brown robe, hair tousled, bare feet poking out from under flannel pajamas.
Ross exhaled—probably relieved that Cy didn’t appear to have heard what he said to me. “Hi, Cyrus.”
Cy forced a smile, and then his eyes flicked to me. “Web?”
Dear God.
Really, you would have had to be blind to miss the open joy on the man’s face or the carnal heat in his eyes. He licked his lips, clenched his jaw, and took a deep breath. No doubt about it, the man liked me just a little bit.
“Are you coming to bed?”
“Right now,” I assured him, striding down the hall fast, brushing against his robe on my way into the room, and hearing him call out a good-night to Ross before closing and locking our door. I turned to face him. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“Wantin’ me instead of the guy who’s better for you.”
He shook his head.
“It’s true,” I said, rushing him, hands on his face, tipping it up, smashing my mouth down over his, kissing him deep but slowly, gently, not hard, finally alone with him and loving it.
“Oh God, Weber, you’re the only one who’s good for me.”
We didn’t fall on the bed; we sort of sank into it, collapsed, and continued making love with our mouths. And I wanted to attack him or have him ravage me, but I just could not for the life of me stop kissing him.
First I was on top and he was under me, and then he pushed up and I was rolled to my back.
He started plundering my mouth, and the pace changed, got frantic as he bit me and I sucked on his tongue.
His moan was so sexy, and I was so hard and just certain, down-to-the-depths-of-my-soul certain, that if I didn’t get my hands on his bare skin, I was going to die.
“God, I fuckin’ hate you,” he whispered, the words hot on my face.
I put him flat on his back and found myself staring into turbulent brown eyes. “Cy?”
“You belong to me, and you know that.”
I sighed deeply. “Cy, we’ve been over—”
“What is so wrong with letting me stake you in a business?”
“Doing what?”
“I don’t know. Whatever you want. I could sponsor you, and you could—”
“No, sir,” I said, rolling onto my back, staring at the ceiling. “My body can’t rodeo no more. I may be stupid, but I ain’t suicidal. I’ll find a ranch where I can—”
“I don’t want you on a ranch somewhere in Texas! I want you right here!”
I turned over, moving farther away from him, and went facedown into the pillow.
Fighting was not what I wanted to do. This was what happened the last time, and I remembered his ultimatum, how angry he’d been, trembling with rage, furious at himself and his tears, livid that I had any power over him at all.
I was smart enough to know that it was the power he’d given me that he resented, and didn’t, at the same time.
The fact was, he loved me. I felt that in every word, kiss, and touch.
But because he loved me and cared so deeply, I alone had the power to hurt him with my absence.
It was never my intention to hurt him or hold that power over him, but really, what choice did I have?
“This was a mistake,” I muttered. “I’m so sorry, Cy. Just when the damn thing was healin’, I show up and tear off the bandage and make it start to bleed all over again.”
He was silent, and I cursed myself for saying anything.
“Weber.” He growled my name, surprising me with his body on mine, pinning me under him to the bed. “Did you ever think that the only thing you’re supposed to do is just love me?”
I went still because wanting me around was one thing, but love was a whole other undertaking. We had never, ever spoken about or brought up the concept, much less the word. Jesus.
“Oh, he’s scared now.”
I shifted under him. “Get up.”
“And if I say no?” he asked me, hand in my hair, tipping my head sideways, his lips on the curve connecting neck to shoulder, kissing, his other hand running down my flank.
I shivered, feeling my response roll through my body.
He felt so good, and the emotion surging through me was even more acute because I knew him, trusted him, and didn’t have to guess how he felt.
And it was stupid to deny what we both knew, that it wasn’t just sex between us or friendship, but what the hell was I supposed to do in his world?
What was I even supposed to do in a city?
I didn’t know how to do anything but break horses and ride bulls and saddle and ride and…
day labor? I would have the world-class brain surgeon do what with me?
“Fuck!” I ground out. “Get off me!”
“So you can do what?” he whispered into my ear. “Run away?”
I got my palms flat on the bed, ready to push up, but his mouth closed over the back of my shoulder, and he bit down hard.
God, I loved to have him put marks on me.
Bruises, hickeys, bite marks, the rash from his stubble, scratches.
I loved it all and only ever allowed Cyrus to leave evidence on my skin, on my body.
The moan that tore out of me sent him into a frenzy of motion. Kissing, licking, nibbling, hands pulling, yanking, and when his mouth closed on my right ass cheek, I bucked forward into the mattress.
“You don’t get it yet, but you will,” he said, his breath catching as the hard length of him slid over my crease.
In the manic fumbling, I had not felt him pull off my sleep shorts, but when he moved, lifting off me, I felt how naked I was and exposed.
“Web,” he growled low, hands on my hips. “Please let me have you. I will take such good care of you.”
I never thought I’d want to submit to another man. To be me, I figured, I would always need to top. Lately, though, the idea of him being inside me had filled my thoughts as I jerked off at night.
“Web,” he murmured, his hands kneading my ass, spreading my cheeks.
My cock was already hard, and as I ground into the mattress, his warm breath ghosting over my skin left goose bumps.
“You’re all flushed,” he rasped, and I could tell that looking at me, seeing my reaction, was turning him on.
My breathing was shallow; I could hear it. “Cy.”
“Yes, baby,” he said, followed by the first swipe of his slick tongue over my puckered hole.
I jolted under him. “I’ll trust you if you trust me.”
“What does that mean?” He flipped open the lube cap.
“You fuck me without a rubber.”
“What?” He was shocked, and though I couldn’t see him, I knew his eyes had to be huge and round.
“You heard me. If you’re gonna come in my ass, I wanna feel it. I wanna be drippin’ with you.”
“Oh fuck, Weber,” he groaned. “I can’t do—”
“You’re a doctor. I know you have safe sex, and we’ve never done it together without one, and I ain’t never done it with nobody else without one.”
“Yes, but—”
“Oh,” I said sadly, realizing he didn’t want to. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pressure you into doing—”
“You’re not pressuring me into doing anything I haven’t been dreaming about.”
Dreaming? Really? Not the response I’d been expecting.
“Weber Yates, look at me.”
I did just as he slid two fingers deep inside me. “Oh God,” I gasped, loving the burn, loving the stretch, the roughness of it, and the look in his eyes when he did it. He wanted me so bad.