Chapter Seventeen
Rory presented Ivan with three things upon entering the house—a candle inviting him to fuck, a chocolate pie, and a honeycomb suncatcher. He wasn’t used to people buying him gifts for no reason, and the gesture touched him deeply.
“Thank you,” Ivan said, suddenly feeling shy.
Rory pressed his lips to Ivan’s quickly but came back for a lingering kiss that stole Ivan’s breath. “You’re welcome. The question is, in what order would you like to enjoy them?”
“I’m a multitasker,” Ivan replied. He picked up the candle in one hand and the pie in the other. “Bring the suncatcher. I know the perfect place to hang it.”
Rory tilted his head to the side. “Not the kitchen window?”
“Nope. You’ll see.”
Up in Ivan’s bedroom, he placed the pie and candle on the dresser, then used the little suction cup to secure the suncatcher to the window next to his bed.
The genius of Rory’s gift and Ivan’s chosen spot to hang it became obvious when sunshine filtered through the stained glass.
It cast various shades of amber and gold over the bed.
He turned to tell Rory to strip down, but he was already moving.
His shoes, socks, and shirt were already off, and he was working his belt open.
He didn’t have matches or a lighter, but the candle’s scent was strong enough without them.
Removing the lid was enough to fill the room with an enticing aroma, but that wasn’t what made Ivan’s dick hard or filled him with a sense of urgency.
It was Rory, stretched out naked on his bed and lazily caressing his chest. Ivan kicked off his shoes and pulled off his socks all while feasting his eyes on the beautiful sight before him.
Amber and gold shimmered against Rory’s skin as if someone had drizzled honey over his body.
An idea for another day perhaps. Each slow, downward slide took Rory’s hand closer to the place Ivan wanted to kiss and touch the most. Ivan’s attempts to remove his shirt failed when Rory’s fingertips brushed the head of his cock on the next pass.
Rory let out a little gasp, and a shiver rippled through his abdomen.
“Christ, you should be illegal in all fifty states,” Ivan growled.
“What about the US territories?” Rory asked.
Ivan stripped his shirt off and reached for his belt before answering. “Those too.” He shoved his pants and underwear down his legs and stepped free. Instead of climbing onto the bed, Ivan just stood there and watched wicked fingers trail up and down Rory’s shimmering torso. “You’re so beautiful.”
Rory’s fingertips brushed over his cockhead and kept sliding south over his erection. Rory’s mouth fell open, but no sound escaped. His eyelids lowered to half-mast and goose bumps popped up all over his flesh. “Have you ever done this before?” Rory whispered.
“Jerked off? I’m a pro.”
One corner of Rory’s mouth tipped up in a seductive smirk Ivan wanted to kiss. “I meant, have you ever done it in front of someone else either individually or simultaneously?”
Ivan’s skin heated at just the thought of deliberately stroking himself in Rory’s presence. “No.”
Rory quirked a brow. “You mean until now?”
Ivan glanced down and was surprised to find his hand slowly working up and down his shaft. He was too caught up in watching Rory to be conscious of his own movements. “Until now.”
Rory’s smile was blinding and brilliant.
“Another first for both of us.” He crooked the forefinger of his idle hand, and Ivan immediately complied.
Rory rolled onto his side, and Ivan lay beside him, facing the man who’d rocked his world in big and small ways.
Each quake tore away more of his armor, freeing Ivan from harmful, imprinted notions and ideas that what he needed was wrong.
“Are there any rules?” Ivan asked.
“Just kiss me. Please.”
Ivan leaned in to kiss Rory but didn’t linger too long because he didn’t want to miss watching Rory pleasure himself.
It was hard to say what turned Ivan on more, having Rory’s eyes on him while he stroked his dick or watching pleasure spread throughout Rory in a full body blush.
Their bodies were close enough that their knuckles brushed occasionally, but that was the only source of connection between them.
Ivan craved Rory’s hands and mouth on his body, but that only amplified the mounting pleasure.
They eventually found the same rhythm, both in their breathing and their strokes.
It was one of the most intimate things Ivan had ever experienced, even though they weren’t touching aside from their knuckles.
Ivan kept his gaze locked on Rory’s as his orgasm built.
He fell over the cliff first, his release coating both their hands.
Rory released a sexy little growl. Then he rolled Ivan onto his back, straddled his hips, and rutted against his slick dick with the fiercest expression Ivan had ever seen.
Rory’s body stiffened, and he came loudly and lustily before he collapsed onto Ivan’s chest in a boneless heap.
“I’ll move in a minute,” Rory said, even as he snuggled closer, tucking his head under Ivan’s chin.
He was so close that his exhales ghosted over Ivan’s neck, and he felt the rhythm go from nearly panting to a soft, sleepy pace just before he drifted to sleep.
“Or thirty,” Rory murmured. Ivan’s skin muffled his voice, and the words came out sluggishly.
Ivan tightened his hold around Rory and decided they could rest a little before cleaning up.
Ninety minutes later, the pair stood in the shower washing off what remained after their ill-advised nap.
Rory brushed his finger over the bald spot on Ivan’s lower abdomen and worked his bottom lip between his teeth.
The patch was red and angry, but Ivan was more concerned about the self-recrimination in Rory’s gaze.
“It’ll grow back in a few days.”
Rory raised a skeptical gaze. “A few days.”
Ivan pointed to his beard and nodded. “I can shave this in the morning and a new beard will take its place by dinner.”
Rory laughed and rolled his eyes. “Be serious.”
“Okay, it might take longer than a day, but you’ll see firsthand just how fast it grows…if you don’t quit me.” He’d meant the last part to be a teasing reminder of Rory’s past comment.
Instead of a typical snarky comeback, Rory leaned into him and rested his head against Ivan’s chest. There’d been an undercurrent of frenetic energy coursing beneath Rory’s skin lately.
Ivan sensed he was going through something.
He’d waffled between trying to get Rory to open up and letting him be, and he’d chosen the latter. Ivan hoped it wasn’t the wrong path.
“Just try to shake me loose,” Rory murmured.
And maybe they were better than okay. Inspiration struck Ivan like a thunderbolt. In fact, it struck him so hard and fast he could almost smell the ozone burning. Or maybe that was the smell of his brain cells regrouping after sex. “Let’s go out to dinner.”
Rory jerked his head up, but Ivan was on to him and leaned out of harm’s way. “Sorry. Snuggling this close to someone is still new.”
“I enjoy being your first something.” Rory had traveled the world and rubbed elbows with some of the richest men in the world.
That didn’t make those guys better than Ivan, but it definitely made them more interesting.
They could give Rory things he couldn’t.
But Ivan recalled the version of Rory that had arrived on the ranch and reconsidered.
What Rory had received from others thus far was a busload of cow manure.
“You’re the only guy who’s wanted me for me and not what my connections could do for him,” Rory told him. “You’re the best first I’ve ever had.” Rory tilted his head to the side. “Were you serious about dinner?”
“Extremely.”
“Like a date?” Rory pressed.
“Yes. Is that o—”
Rory cut him off with a hard kiss. Ivan wasn’t sure what spurred him to move quicker—the shower, Rory’s energized prodding, or the water tank’s warning that they were almost out of hot water.
The Feisty Bull, a favorite among the ranching locals, was slamming on a Saturday night, but they only had to wait thirty minutes for a table.
The restaurant didn’t look like much from the outside.
It was a long, white clapboard building with a red roof in the middle of nowhere, but it served the best steaks and seafood Ivan had ever tasted.
The interior was a tad outdated too, with gleaming wood as far as the eye could see only broken up by red leather chairs or booths and white tablecloths.
A long bar was at one end of the building and a massive fireplace constructed from local stone was the focal point at the opposite end.
They’d scored a table near the fireplace, which pleased Ivan since it would be quieter there.
The locals gathered at the bar for loud discussions, ranging from sports to politics and everything in between.
Someone there could recognize Rory, and that would put a damper on their first real date.
The Feisty Bull was considered casual dining, so they hadn’t needed to dress up.
Ivan had still spent a ridiculous amount of time on his hair while Rory experimented with more of Hope’s skincare line for men.
A candle flickered in a mason jar in the center of the table, casting a warm glow on their table.
Rory’s skin looked luminescent, proving his effort was worth it.
He looked around the restaurant with a smile on his face. “I like the atmosphere here.”
“This is one of my favorite places away from the ranch, and I wanted to share it with you.”
The building and decor were understated, but the service and food were exceptional.
Ivan and Rory couldn’t decide what to eat.
They were both torn between one of the seafood pastas or the pricey steaks, so they ordered both to split.
Rory chose shrimp and scallops in a lemony garlic sauce over linguine, and Ivan went with a porterhouse steak, parmesan mashed potatoes, and broccolini.
They started with a crusty loaf of French bread and a variety of butter spreads.
There was one with maraschino cherries in it that Rory had been determined to hate but adored on first bite.
“I don’t like maraschino cherries,” he said after his second piece of bread with a quarter inch of cherry butter on it. “But I can’t get enough.”
“I bet it’s the other ingredient you’re drawn to,” Ivan said.
Rory narrowed his eyes. “Is your liquid gold in this butter?” The question came out louder and a tad more lurid than Ivan would’ve liked. “Your honey, I mean.”
Ivan bit back a laugh. “The Feisty Bull was my first contract.”
“Makes this place even better.” He took another bite of bread and did a little shimmy in his chair. Rory seemed to recall where he was and stiffened.
Ivan imagined those kinds of displays wouldn’t be welcome in the Snyder home, especially in public, where people judged their every word and move.
That was no way to grow up. There were years when his family’s farm had performed so poorly that Ivan’s mama had to make their clothes or buy them from the Goodwill in a neighboring town.
He still wouldn’t trade his parents or his humble beginnings.
“Don’t stifle your joy. I love how you find it in the smallest things. ”
“And the biggest,” Rory said.
Ivan was on to him, and his deflection wouldn’t work. “Like the butterfly that landed on your arm this morning in Honeyland.”
Rory, who claimed not to blush, did just that. “It’s hard to imagine something so pretty started out as a caterpillar.” He got a faraway look in his eyes before refocusing on Ivan. “Its wings felt like velvet and seemed so delicate, yet they hold up in the strongest winds.”
“Reminds me of you,” Ivan said. “You’re coming into your own, just like the butterfly, and you’re stronger and more resilient than you realize.”
Rory’s smile was the brightest thing in the dimly lit restaurant. “Today has been eye-opening.”
Ivan took a sip of water. They’d both passed on alcohol, though Rory had chosen sparkling water to Ivan’s still. “How so?”
“Well, first, Harry and Hope tricked me into taking a yoga class at the center.”
Ivan grimaced. “Did you have to wear one of her bawdy graphic tees?”
Rory laughed. “No. Hope said she’d sold out of them when Harry asked. How bad are they?”
Ivan rattled off the few he could remember, and Rory threw his head back and laughed. “She changes them up all the time. How did you like yoga?”
“I actually loved it,” he said with a sheepish grin. He repeated the conversation he’d had with Abigail about checking out and tuning in to his body and his breathing. “It was harder than I expected, but I felt like I had accomplished something when it was over, and I felt much calmer. Ivan?”
“Hmm?” He set his butter knife and the slice of bread he’d been buttering on his plate.
“I want to treat your inner thirteen-year-old Ivan to something he wishes he could’ve done.”
That’s how they ended up making out in a dark corner of a movie theater.
They’d chosen an obscure foreign film with subtitles that few people would choose on a Saturday night.
Stale popcorn, chocolate-covered peanuts, and two hand jobs later, Ivan’s inner teenager was happier than he’d ever been in his life.
Thirty-one-year-old Ivan was feeling pretty damn good too.
Over the next month, he expected those feelings to fade.
Ivan expected to wake up one morning and not be excited to find Rory sleeping on the pillow beside him.
He expected they’d run out of confessions.
That never happened, though, so Ivan braced himself for the day Rory woke up and announced he was ready to leave. But that never happened either.
Rory stopped bragging about how he could quit Ivan at a moment’s notice.
Ivan stopped caring about where they were and who was around when the urge to kiss Rory hit him.
Standing in line in the dining room to fill their plates at breakfast?
No problem. He tapped Rory on the shoulder and planted one on him.
At the skating rink while living out more of teenage Ivan’s fantasies by holding hands during the slow skate?
Bam! Right on the mouth. Ivan couldn’t say what song had been playing, but he’d remember the look of pure happiness in Rory’s eyes for as long as he lived.