Chapter 8 #2
“Actually, I think the thing that we need to do is get you a hat, some boots, and some jeans that fit.”
Evan arched an eyebrow. “What’s wrong with my jeans?”
“They don’t fit right.” Sam didn’t even act as though he was saying something mean. Just a fact.
“They don’t fit?”
Sam shook his head once. “Nope.”
“All right. Well, I can buy jeans, boots, and a hat.”
Sam finished his breakfast, the breakfast burrito disappearing in a couple of bites. “That way, you’ll fit in a little better at the rodeo, and maybe you’ll be more comfortable. Do you have a belt that has a real buckle?”
“Don’t make me hurt you, man.” His clothes were designer, dammit
“Okay, just asking. I worry about people.”
“I’ll let you teach me all the rules of rodeo while we’re driving.” He was surprised the eggs went with the beans so well.
“One day, I’ll let you teach me all the rules about hockey. There are rules, right?”
“Oh, yeah, lots.” That was an understatement, from the written rules to all the little quirks a player learned.
“I thought so. I know baseball. I know football. Uh, really, that’s it.
Football, baseball, rodeo. I mean, I’ve played basketball, but not in a where there are rules sort of way.
More in a put the ball in the hoop and bump along as many good-looking men as you can and along the way sort of basketballing.
” Sam beamed at him, waggled his eyebrows.
“Ah, I’ve played that game.” Evan chuckled, shaking his head. “In hockey there are too many pads and guards and shit to get all rubby.”
“Yeah, but there’s all that slappy fighting.”
That made Evan bark out a surprised laugh. “Yeah, okay, a lot of it looks fake. But this scar?” He pointed to a slice on his eyebrow that was gray now. “From a fight-fight.”
Sam gave it a glance, then pressed his lips together. Then he reached over and pulled the arm of his shirt up, showing a deep u-shaped slice. “Got caught by a safety man’s horse hoof. Mare got stung by a bee. Safety man got hung up. I was in there trying to get him out.”
Oh, was there anything sexier than a good old-fashioned Jaws-style scar comparison?
“This one?” He traced the tiny silver scar on his cheekbone. “Puck to the face.”
“Oh damn. That would sting.” Sam lifted his T-shirt and showed off that belly—which was the tightest thing he’d ever seen in his life, by the way.
There was a horrifying jagged six-inch long scar right around his rib cage that was a good three inches wide in places.
“Gored under my vest. Hurt like a bitch.”
“Impressive.” He lifted his T-shirt to show off an old scar right above his hip. “One of my best friends got pissed at me and threw a hockey skate at me, and the guard fell off before it hit me.”
Sam shook his head. “How old were you?”
“Six. I didn’t cry, either.”
Those dark eyes burned into him. “I hear you. I understand.”
“I thought you might.” God, all of the sudden the air was charged between them to the point that he could cut it with a knife.
That tension was thick, and his cock was perking right up.
Sam got him. He really did. He felt that same kind of camaraderie he often did with his fellow hockey players, but he never wanted to fuck one of the hockey players as bad as he did Sam.
Sam cleared his throat and pulled his T-shirt down. “You, uh, interested in seeing any of my other scars?”
Evan met that dark gaze with one of his own. Straight on. No flinching. “Does that involve taking off the rest of your clothes?”
“Yeah, it does.” Sam stood up, hands on the table, leaning forward a bit. “I ain’t playing, though.”
Evan got up and moved right into Sam’s space, letting the man feel his heat. He was always like a damn furnace. “Neither am I. You want to do this? We’re gonna do this.”
“I definitely want. Now is a good time because Hil is not here.” Sam’s cheeks went the tiniest bit red. “We can be as loud as we want.”
Evan held out his hand because he wanted to touch Sam again just to make sure that crazy spark he’d felt was still right there. “Lead the way.”
With the deep curve of his lips, Sam took his hand and tugged, pulling him back toward the bedrooms.
Evan went readily.
Even a couple of hours ago, or last night, maybe this would have seemed weird, but right now it was like the most perfect thing he could think of.
He was hoping Sam felt the same way because if this worked out well, he could do it over and over and over again, for a while at least. A road trip where they shared the same big bed and bumped hips in the morning while they were making coffee gave him even more of a happy, which was a pretty steep task.
Sam tugged him into the bedroom, which was simple and masculine, yet homey and kind of wonderful.
A big king-size bed dominated the room, covered with a colorful quilt that was obviously handmade.
The tile floors had rugs to keep their feet from freezing in the winter.
There was a dresser, a sitting area with a simple loveseat, a chair, and a table, and a couple of nightstands with lamps on them where a pile of books rested.
Sam let go of his hand, then reached for the hem of Evan’s shirt, yanking at it.
Evan raised his arms and laughed when Sam could only get the shirt so far up before he had to stop because he wasn’t tall enough. “This is nice, man. Homey, should we take the quilt off first?”
Sam glanced over his shoulder at the bed. “Yeah, we probably ought to,” he said. “My abue would kill me if I ruined that quilt.”
“We wouldn’t want that.” Not now, not when things were about to get interesting.
Sam pulled the quilt off the bed, folded it in half, and tossed it onto the couch. “There we go, good to go.”
He got a wink, a grin, and then Sam tugged off his shirt before sitting down on the edge of the bed to remove his boots.
“You’ve done this before.”
Sam looked up at him, smiled. “So not sexy to be caught up in the middle of everything and have your boots on.”
“No. It’s not like they can be thrown off like hockey gear.” He took his shirt off, tossing it aside. He didn’t have shoes on to worry about, not like that. He just stepped out of his slides.
Sam stood to meet him in bare feet, and he’d never been with a man who was so short and so—
Sam wasn’t tiny, not by any means. He was solid. Stacked. But he wasn’t the size of the man Evan was used to messing around with. It was kinda hot.
“You’re built like a brick shithouse.” Sam’s fingers were splayed as they reached for him, and they pushed up over his belly, tangling in the hair on his chest, pulling a bit.
Sam was smooth, skin a deep solid tan, the color deeper and richer on Sam’s lower arms and face.
“So…which scar you want to see next?” Sam muscled right into his personal space, completely confident, touch sliding up to cover his pecs, fingertips digging in while he was there.
He knew the answer to that question. There was one at the corner of Sam’s lips, a slash that was only noticeable whenever the man smiled.
“This one.” He licked that scar, then took the kiss he wanted, hoping Sam didn’t hate kissing like some guys did.
Sam rose up on his toes and kissed Evan back in a scorching, gotta-have-it-now kind of way. Thank God. They were so on the same page here.
Sam backed right up to the bed, sitting when Evan gave him a light shove, those scarred-up cowboy hands going to his sweats to tug them down, freeing Evan’s cock.
“Oh, hello.” Sam grabbed his dick and stroked, just a couple of quick pumps up and down, and Evan went up on tiptoes, gritting his teeth against the immediate rush of pleasure. It had been too long with only his own hand for company, and that touch had his toes curling.
“Fuck.” The word burst out of him, and Sam chuckled, gentling his touch. Evan stared down at the man. “Been a little while.”
“Mmm. Shame. But that’s good for me, huh?” Sam watched his face as he stroked and tugged.
“Uh— I hope so. Damn.” His ass clenched, his body going from zero to sixty in no time.
Sam reached up with his other hand, slipping between his legs to lift and weigh his balls. “Need me to slow down a little?”
He bent forward to kiss a scar on Evan’s hip. Oddly enough, that one was from him falling out of a treehouse when he was a kid.
“Yeah.” He sucked in a deep breath. “What I need is for you to get naked.” He wanted to see all of Sam, wanted to return the favor.
Sam leaned back on the bed, resting on his elbows and lifting his hips. “Well, get me naked.”
Evan grinned. Sam was a pushy little fucker. He liked that in a guy.
It wasn’t a hardship either to reach down and open that buckle, unzip the man’s jeans. He shoved them and the boxer briefs down to Sam’s ankles, all in one swoop.
That exposed Sam’s lean hips and a lovely pair of thighs. Best of all though, was the heavy cock waiting for him, dark and fat with his need, resting on a shiny mat of hair like a raven’s wing.
“Aren’t you pretty?”
“Never been called that before, but I’ll take it.” Sam reached down and grabbed his cock, stroked it, just once, base to tip, showing off a bit.
Evan liked it. He liked it a lot.
“Come here, man, and see if we can’t get the sheets dirty now.”
He thought dirty was pretty much the only way to go here. He stripped Sam’s jeans all the way down before he stepped out of his own sweats, pulling them off his feet.
Then he climbed onto the bed where Sam was waiting.