Chapter 3 #3
Donnelly hesitated, fingers rubbing the ridges of the whiskey glass in his hands, looking so damned exposed that Wyatt couldn’t stand it. He knew that feeling. Knew what it was like to open up and not know how the other person would receive it.
“I just realized tonight that I haven’t had sex in almost a year,” Wyatt blurted out and immediately flushed in embarrassment, raking his fingers through his hair. “That I’ve been so busy with finishing my last year as a resident, that I don’t do anything other than sleep, shower, and work.”
Donnelly cursed in surprise, smiling broadly at him. “I don’t think I could survive.”
Something shifted in the air between them, crackling with an energy Wyatt hadn’t felt in a long time. The inside of his stomach heated and fluttered with excitement.
Fuck, Jin was right.
Goddamn it! And thank fuckin’ God!
His blood pounded in his ears as he nervously took a quick sip of whiskey.
“Are you seeing anyone now? You and Emily seem close…” Donnelly said casually.
Wyatt breathed in through his nose, catching the faint scent of his cologne.
Donnelly didn’t wear anything fancy like this at work, and if Wyatt were honest with himself, he preferred his natural, musky scent.
Because there had been times when the nerves were high, the adrenaline pumping, and Dr. Donnelly’s larger frame overshadowed Wyatt’s, pushing into his back or side, his scent engulfing him.
He swallowed. “Who?”
“Dr. Sawyer.”
Wyatt blinked and shook his head, “No. She’s incredible, but we’re just friends.”
He sat forward, deciding to be brave for five fucking seconds and just tell Donnelly the truth. After all, he had been honest with him. “I um… prefer… men.”
Donnelly stared for half a second longer than usual, and Wyatt saw his eyes darken before sliding down to glance at his lips, chest exhaling before he immediately drew back, pushing his forearms off the bar top, creating space between them.
Wyatt noted his knee hadn’t moved, though.
Not yet.
All he had to do was widen his legs another inch, and they would be touching.
Because Dr. Donnelly—in that split second—had considered kissing him, and Wyatt saw it like an exposed vein. Real and pulsing, and full of life.
Fuck me.
Gasoline pouring rapidly into his bloodstream, Wyatt’s voice grated as he said, “I, uh, figured it out when I was a teen on my father’s ranch.
I grew up on a dude ranch, surrounded by desert and mountains, horses and cowboys.
Lots and lots of cowboys.” He glanced sideways at Donnelly and saw that he had leaned forward again, that half-hearted smile dancing on his lips, appearing relaxed once more.
Feeling braver, Wyatt continued. “I had plenty of crushes, but none of the cowboys stayed too long—a season or two at most. Probably because my dad is such a hard ass. But, one day, when I had just turned nineteen, I…” he cleared his throat, stunned he was admitting this story, but it felt right.
Easy even—with him. “I seduced one of my dad’s ranch hands. ”
Donnelly’s jaw unhinged, and he covered it quickly with a hand, looking amused.
Wyatt smirked, “What?”
He shrugged, looking thoughtful, “You don’t seem the type.”
“To seduce ranch hands?”
He nodded, revealing his smile as he laughed.
“I couldn’t stop myself,” Wyatt admitted.
“I used to think all these handsome cowboys coming in and out of my dad’s ranch had turned me gay.
Their uncompromising work ethics, their values, the way they used their hands…
” his eyes, unable to resist the temptation, looked at Dr. Donnelly’s hands.
Strong, sure hands that grew steadier under pressure.
He wondered how they would feel on his body, tracing over the seam of his lips, the groove of his backside, the length of his cock…
He glanced up and stilled, their eyes colliding.
“I figured out that I had a type…” Wyatt drawled, intentionally dropping his tone into a seductive rasp. “Cowboys, much older cowboys, that had hands of steel and beards that I could sink my fingers into.”
Donnelly made a sound from the back of his throat, his nostrils releasing a hard breath, as he quickly looked away. He knew he was treading a fine line, but at that moment, Wyatt didn’t care. He liked seeing the faint blush on his captain’s cheeks.
“My dad found me in the barn with one of his seasonal cowboys,” he continued, tone lightening, wanting to relax Donnelly again.
He had to take this slow, he thought. He didn’t want to spook his controlled, tightly wound captain.
“It was my first time, and I was butt ass naked, and a happy, ruined mess. Right then and there, my dad disowned me. Kicked me out. My aunts let me stay with them until I got accepted into UCLA. I’ve been doing everything on my own ever since. ”
“I’m sorry,” Donnelly said.
“It’s all right. I still love my dad even though he’s—well, an asshole.”
“Not everyone could do that,” Donnelly breathed quietly, and as if seeing him for the first time, he said, “You’re a good man, Lawson.”
Donnelly’s hand casually grasped the back of Wyatt’s shoulder, fingers brushing along his neck.
Wyatt closed his eyes, arms braced on the cool marble bar top.
His entire body, every fiber, every muscle, heated under the simple touch.
He felt the vibrating awareness pulsating between them and knew, with absolute certainty, that he would be replacing the paramedic who was supposed to be in Dr. Donnelly’s bed tonight.
That thought alone stirred something inside him.
Unable to deny himself any longer, he leaned into Donnelly’s touch, the bottom of his chin grazing his strong fingers, and he melted into him.
Donnelly let out a strained breath, and Wyatt’s eyes shot open and saw the desire—the lust etched in the lines of his face.
Wyatt trembled, feeling Donnelly’s fingers slip upwards, capturing his jaw, and the rough pad of his thumb grazing tantalizingly close to his lips.
Oh, fuck yes.
He stopped breathing, waiting for more, needing more.
Feeling his stomach clench, Wyatt leaned even deeper into the touch and dipped his chin downward, forcing Donnelly’s thumb over his lips.
Heat flooded his limbs as his tongue slipped out, licking the pad of his thumb, desperate to take it fully into his mouth and suck.
And damn, did he want to suck this man down until there was nothing but grunting, gasping curses.
Wyatt couldn’t stop the weak noise that escaped from the back of his throat, which Donnelly heard, and he quickly snatched his hand back, eyes fully dilated with the same scorching lust that rippled through Wyatt’s body.
Both men breathed heavily, knowing they were inches away from crossing the line.
“That was wrong,” Donnelly said, his voice hardening. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have touched you.”
“You always touch me,” Wyatt replied, letting his leg drop and brush against his beneath the bar top. The older man stiffened but didn’t retract. “I like it…”
Donnelly scrubbed a hand over his lips, unable to keep his gaze away, seeming just as transfixed as Wyatt felt.
“I want you to touch me every time you walk by,” Wyatt admitted. “I—I ache for it.”
Donnelly let out a shaky groan, laced with the same desperation Wyatt felt coursing through his body.
That simple, breathy groan unraveled whatever last resistance he had left to reason.
Maybe it was the whiskey, maybe it was the clear, stark hunger reflected in Donnelly’s face.
Maybe it was this reckless, vulnerable moment.
It didn’t matter. All that mattered was that Wyatt was ready to worship at the altar of his captain and take more than his thumb deeper into his mouth if he’d let him.
Wyatt, feeling bold, slipped his hand beneath the bar, clasping Donnelly’s thigh, squeezing through the layer of material.
Donnelly stiffened instantly as though he’d burned him, but he didn’t jerk away.
Instead, without looking, he firmly grasped Wyatt’s hand.
He waited for Donnelly to fling him away, but was surprised when he squeezed him.
Was he giving in?
Or fighting it? Wyatt couldn’t tell, and it bothered the hell out of him.
“No one has to know,” Wyatt murmured.
Donnelly closed his eyes, conflict tightening around his lips, his jaw clenching.
Say yes.
Don’t think about how wrong this is for both of us.
Don’t think—just say yes and give us both what we want.
“Thanks for the offer, Lawson, but we both know that’s not possible.” He released him, shifted fully away, and signaled for the bartender. “Put our drinks on my room, please,” Donnelly instructed the bartender, smoothly getting to his feet. “Have a good night, Lawson.”
The dismissal was so casual, yet so dispassionate, that it left him confused.
Wyatt watched as Donnelly headed toward the hotel lobby elevators, his heart pounding.
No fucking way. He was not ending the night getting rejected by a man who clearly wanted the same thing he did. And if Wyatt was good at anything, he was good at chasing after what he wanted.
He slammed down the rest of his whiskey, preparing for the chase. Maybe it was insanity. Whatever it was, he was going to try again because images of Dr. Donnelly sitting alone at the bar, and then sitting alone in the hotel room, would not be tolerated.
Wyatt was on his feet in an instant, running after him.
Donnelly slammed his finger into the elevator button, the only person in the hotel hallway this late at night.
“Wait,” Wyatt said, breathing fast from the adrenaline pooling in his chest.
Donnelly shook his head, “I’m not interested, Lawson. Besides, it crosses so many ethical boundaries…”
The elevator dinged, and Donnelly quickly stepped inside, hitting the button for his floor. This was it, he thought. Now or never. Once Donnelly was in that elevator, this opportunity would never come again.
Fuck it.
Wyatt rushed inside, the elevator doors sliding closed behind him.
“What are you doing?” Donnelly snapped, sounding frayed and unexpectedly emotional.
Wyatt had sensed the undercurrent of emotion from Donnelly at the bar, but had been distracted by his desire to explore it further.
But now, it was here again, brimming and cracking beneath his carefully controlled facade.
Donnelly’s shoulder was ridged and cramped against his neck, his posture stiff, and he appeared more vulnerable than ever in the tight confines of the elevator.
He thought of his old horse Roxeanne.
He thought of the pain and weight his captain carried.
And all Wyatt wanted to do was soothe him—take it and carry it for a night. Anything to see him smiling and at ease with himself as he had been at the bar a moment ago. That was the Donnelly he wanted. This one felt like a wounded wolf, scared and hostile, ready to attack rather than give.
“I…” Wyatt sucked in a breath.
Donnelly shook his head, staring up at the digital numbers leading them up to his hotel room.
Wyatt, biting his inner lip, stepped forward, drawing his attention, feeling the weight of his gaze and the tight cord in his own body as he exhaled. “I just want…”
You.
The tension in Donnelly’s expression broke like an explosion as he suddenly grabbed Wyatt by the front of his shirt with both hands and slammed him against the wall, rocking the elevator. “I have no intention of ruining my career for this, Lawson. Back off.”
Except Wyatt wasn’t the one pinning the other to the side of the elevator.
His actions and his words didn’t match, and they both knew it. They both felt the undeniable spark between them.
Wyatt’s hands reached upwards, clasping Donnelly’s, his fingers bunched and digging into his shirt.
“I can’t do this…” The vulnerability lacing Donnelly’s voice broke open, and Wyatt couldn’t help but sway closer, feeling Donnelly’s hot breath on his face.
“I won’t say anything,” Wyatt husked. “This stays between us…”
“Stop,” Donnelly commanded roughly and pushed back, untangling them. Wyatt stepped back only a few feet, careful not to touch.
“Let me take care of you,” Wyatt heard himself say. The exact words he’d said to the horses on the ranch over the years. The ones that fought and bucked and needed the most attention and care. “Please…”
Donnelly let out a strangled gasp as though he were drowning.
And at that moment, Wyatt realized that he was.
He was breaking, crumbling right in front of him, and all Wyatt wanted to do was soothe and touch and give. Give this man everything he had given Wyatt for the past six months—kindness, compassion, strength.
Donnelly’s eyes locked with his, scared and yet aroused. Unable to see anything else but that needy desire, Wyatt reached for him, fingers digging into his thick beard, feeling the coarse yet soft hair and yearning for more. “This stays here. You can trust me.”
Wyatt’s cock, hardening between his legs, brushed against Donnelly’s body, whose lips had parted with a soft groan as his eyes shut in resistance.
He was more than ready to plunge off this cliff and straight into Donnelly. Free-fall into oblivion with him.
But only if he’d let him.
He would not force him to do anything he didn’t want to.
Before either of them could do anything, the elevator door rang, and the doors silently slid open.