34. Chapter 34
Ten minutes into their drive, Colt’s leg was bouncing a mile a minute. Streetlights flooded the cab, and he risked a look over at Beau, whose knuckles were straining from how hard he was gripping the wheel.
Colt sniffed. “This is bullshit.”
“No,” Beau growled. “What you did back there was bullshit.”
“Excuse me?” Colt’s eyes weren’t burning anymore. “He said—”
“I don’t give a flyin’ fuck what he said.” Beau kept his eyes firmly on the road. “No one ever teach you about sticks and stones?”
“I’m not five, and this wasn’t Ricky Franklin calling me a booger face,” Colt snapped, throwing his hands up. “Don’t minimize me like that. I’m not a kid.”
“Oh, yeah?” Beau finally looked at him, and Colt wished he hadn’t. “Could’ve fooled me.”
Colt’s mouth went slack, and he bluescreened for one long second before anger seeped into every single one of his pores. “How dare you? How—fuck you, Beau!”
Beau flinched and flipped on the turn signal.
He pulled off the interstate down an empty road, driving right off it and into the desert, where he pulled himself out of the truck and slammed the door behind him.
Immediately, Colt threw his bag on the floor and scrambled out himself, his shoes squelching in mud as he hurried over to Beau and grabbed his arm.
Beau spun around. “Do you have any idea what you did?”
“Yeah, I defended you from a bigoted asshole who wanted to paint you as a fucking predator.” Colt's voice was rising, but he couldn't help it. His world was tilting sideways and he had no idea what to do. “He deserved it!”
“All you accomplished by hittin’ him was puttin’ a bigger target on your back.” Beau was yelling too, gravel-rough and loud in a way Colt hadn't ever heard from him. “You gave him ammo! Why can't you see that?”
“Who cares?” Colt’s body urged him to step back. He knew Beau would never hurt him, but the man was a fucking mountain. He crossed his arms and walked forward instead. “What does it matter?”
“It matters because now he's not just gonna say it to you. By tomorrow morning, everyone in that circuit is going to think that you—that I—” Beau's chest was heaving, his eyes bright in the moonlight filtering in through the clouds. “This could ruin everything for you.”
“You mean for you.” Colt jabbed a finger at Beau’s chest, and a tear slipped down his cheek. “The whole track could think you're fucking some dumbass rookie you wouldn't take a second look at, and, what? That's embarrassing for you? Fuck, Beau.”
“What?” Beau shook his head, and he wasn't yelling now. He sounded pained. “Colt, I—”
“I get it, alright?” Colt took that step back, glaring up at Beau, and his crossed arms felt more like protection than defiance. “I get that you'd never—but I don't get why it's so fucking shameful for people to just think you might want me as much as I want you.”
“You think I don't want you?” Beau snarled, stepping closer, and Colt’s eyes snapped to his so fast it made Colt’s head spin.
“Of course I want you, you goddamn idiot.
That's the whole fucking problem! I know what it does to you when I tell you you're good.
I know, and I like it, and it's so goddamn messed up because I'm—”
Colt lunged across the space between them and surged up on his toes, grabbed Beau by the neck and shoulders, and yanked him down so he could press his lips against his.
Beau made a deep, wanting sound and wrapped his arms around Colt’s lower back, pushed into the kiss and opened his mouth, moving them until he had Colt’s back pressed against the door of the truck, and Colt was going to fucking die, oh shit.
He dug one of his hands into Beau’s thick hair, and Beau ran his tongue along Colt’s lips just as he wrapped one huge, callused hand around Colt’s whole throat.
Beau used the grip to move Colt’s head to a better angle, and Colt whined—needy and pathetic—and it didn’t matter because Beau’s tongue slid into his mouth.
Colt pushed his upper back into the truck and lifted himself.
Beau grabbed his ass with his free hand and helped, and Colt wrapped his legs around Beau’s thick body.
Panting into Beau’s open mouth, Colt clawed at one broad shoulder.
God, he was never going to recover from this.
Everything was Beau—his mouth against Colt’s, his tongue, the warmth of him between Colt’s thighs, the scent of oil, cologne, and sweat.
Colt rolled his hips, his cock hard and aching.
It caught on Beau’s belt buckle, and Beau grunted.
He wrapped an arm around Colt’s waist and adjusted him down until—
“Fuck,” Colt hissed as he moved again, dragging himself against the stiff heat of Beau because Beau was rock fucking hard. And it was for him. “Beau. Fuck.”
When Colt tightened his thighs and started a steady grind, Beau kissed back up his neck and bit gently down on his earlobe. His voice was low and full of gravel. “That's it. Good boy, Colt.”
The noise Colt made would have been embarrassing if he wasn't so busy burning alive, if he had any room left for a feeling other than heat and want and desperation. His hips jerked, and he tugged Beau’s hair, and—
“Fuck,” Beau hissed, and Colt thought it was the same sort of overwhelmed, wanting ‘fuck’ Colt had been feeling until Beau pulled back. Until Beau pressed his forehead against Colt's shoulder. “Colt. We—”
“Don't.” Colt pressed his nose into Beau's hair and squeezed his eyes shut, dizzy with want and heat, but still completely aware of what was going to happen. And he had to stop it because he'd never in his life needed someone the way he needed Beau. “Don't say it, Beau, please.”
Beau grabbed Colt’s thighs and gently lowered him until he was on his feet. Then he pressed his thumb to the corner of Colt’s mouth and ran it down to his chin, his lips kiss-swollen and pink, his breathing still uneven. “We can't do this.”
Colt shook his head. “Yes, we can. We already are.”
Beau stepped back and pressed his hand against his mouth, dragging it past his mustache like he did when he was struggling. Colt had lost. Beau shook his head. “No, we aren't. This was—”
“If the next words out of your mouth are ‘a mistake’, I'm never talking to you again, Beauregard Moore.” Colt zipped up his suit as Beau looked at him with wide, startled eyes.
“If you don't want this, if you're too scared, fine.
But don't you dare stand there and call what just happened between us a mistake.”
“Okay,” Beau agreed as the wind kicked up and howled across the desert through the low shrubs.
“Just take me home.” Colt walked back around and got into the truck again, and he didn’t say another word the rest of the drive.