28. Roman
Roman
I position the saddle pad on Ranger, the musky scent of leather flooding my senses.
He flicks an ear toward me, impatient to get moving.
I understand the feeling. I have a mountain tour scheduled in less than twenty minutes, and keeping busy has become my latest survival method.
Busy means I don’t think about that night.
It means I don’t remember Taylor moaning underneath me.
It means I don’t spend every waking minute replaying the sweet, rhythmic embrace of his body around my cock.
Busy means I don’t crave more.
The stable door creaks open, pulling me from thoughts that are already making me hard. My entire body goes rigid. I don’t need to turn around to know who just entered the room. The shift in the air, the immediate tightening in my stomach, and the erratic beating of my pulse are all signs.
Damn it.
I keep my attention on the saddle.
“Good morning,” Taylor greets me. His tone sounds casual. Too casual, as if he hasn’t completely upended my goddamn peace of mind.
“Morning,” I mumble.
A heavy, unnatural silence settles between us. I sense his eyes on me. Waves of tingling heat cover my skin and warm my insides. Gritting my teeth, I place the saddle on Ranger, willing my erection to go down. I don’t want him to notice how much his proximity arouses me.
Finally, his soft voice cuts into the tension. “Do you plan on avoiding me until I leave? It’s almost two months away, you know.”
A long, weary sigh deflates against my ribs. Of course, I should’ve known he wouldn’t let it go. I pull the saddle strap tighter than necessary. “Keeping my distance is the mature thing to do.”
“Mature?”
His footsteps approach. Every instinct I possess becomes aware of how close he is. I hate that my body notices. I hate how it craves him. Turning, I find him standing a few feet away, hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket. His expression is genuinely confused, not flirtatious or provocative.
Just Taylor.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Because I can’t think about you without wanting to spread you open like a flower. “Because the other night shouldn’t have happened.”
Taylor purses his lips, but says nothing.
“Your mother trusted me.” The words feel heavy on my tongue. “She asked me to look after you. I betrayed her trust.”
For a moment, Taylor studies me. “You didn’t exactly betray her.”
“Didn’t I?”
“No.”
He takes another step toward me. My pulse immediately jumps. I hate that, too. “She doesn’t know what happened.”
“That’s not the point.”
“And she won’t find out.”
Another step.
Now, he’s close enough that I can see the golden flecks in his eyes. Close enough for me to smell his cologne. Close enough to trigger those unholy thoughts I’ve been smothering all day.
“Roman.”
I force myself to meet his gaze.
“I don’t want to leave on bad terms with you.”
Leave. The word lands harder than it should. I thought I’d made peace with it. Oh... fuck my fucking life.
“We didn’t exactly start on good terms, remember?”
The memory of our first day almost makes me chuckle. Almost. “No, we definitely didn’t.”
“I don’t want this to be how it ends.” His smile softens. “Can we put it behind us?”
The reasonable, mature answer is yes. I nod. “Fine.”
Relief immediately brightens his face. He extends his hand. “Truce?”
I stare at it, then at him, then glance back down again.
This should be simple. It’s just a handshake, nothing more.
His palm slides against mine, warm despite the winter chill lingering in the air, and I close my fingers around his hand.
The shake lasts no longer than it should, yet something catches between us—an almost imperceptible hesitation before our grips loosen.
Still, we don’t let go. His eyes lift, meeting my stare.
The easy smile he’d been wearing falters just enough for me to notice.
Just enough for a raging heat to coil deep in my stomach.
My pulse pounds against my wrist. Every nerve ending in my body awakens. Taylor’s expression changes. Slightly, but enough that I know he feels something too. He swallows, leaving me with an ache to kiss that prominent bulge in his throat.
Fuck, I want to do more than kiss his beautiful throat.
A warning goes off in my head. Taylor glances down at my front.
The soft groan that escapes his mouth is my undoing.
I clasp his cheeks, releasing all the restraint I’ve been denying myself these last four days, kissing him with a fierceness that steals the air from my lungs.
Taylor moans as I press him against the wall, eating his mouth with insatiable hunger.
His cock hardens against mine. He kisses me back with the same urgency.
Every heartbeat echoes between us. Every second strips away another layer of hesitation.
Taylor gasps when I spin him around to face the wall.
My fingers slide into his waistband, yanking his pants down in one fluid motion.
Within several heartbeats, my pants are around my ankles.
He moans when I spit between his crack, lubricating his butthole.
A slow, spreading heat settles in my belly as he starts bouncing on my tip.
“Fuck me,” he whispers, as I slide the head inside him. “Fuck me hard.”
With both hands clutching his hips, I give him exactly what we both need.
He moans and claws at the wall as I pound his perfect little hole.
My balls bang against his ass cheeks. His back arches.
Fuck, I’ve never seen anything sexier. I drag my fingers down his spine, fucking him with long, deep strokes that make my balls tighten.
I can feel an explosive climax building in my gut.
“Stroke yourself for me,” I groan, bottoming out, hitting that sensitive spot.
His butthole tightens as he masturbates.
My cock thickens inside him. Our eruptions are almost simultaneous.
The sounds from our releases bounce against the four walls.
For a long moment, we remain frozen in place, catching our breaths, while I brace for the post-nut clarity to seep back in.
It doesn’t.
All I feel is amazing.
Wrapping my arms around his waist, I kiss his shoulder, a wave of euphoria crashing down on me. Taylor sighs, reaching up to stroke my hair. My cock twitches inside him, a sign that once won’t be enough. I want to fuck him on every single surface in this barn.
But I have a tour in... a glance at my watch springs me into action—five minutes to go. Damn it. Releasing Taylor, I grab my pants from the floor. He leans against the wall, catching his breath and watching me get dressed.
As I drag on my boots, he whispers, “Roman.”
My head snaps upward. “Yeah?”
“I want to tell you why Mom sent me here.”
“Okay…” I glance at my watch again. Three minutes. Based on his calm expression, I don’t think it’s serious. “Can we talk later?”
“Yeah, sure.” He nods eagerly.
He starts putting on his clothes and I get Ranger, then head out to meet the guests with a minute to spare.
On the way, I see Wilson walking toward the sauna.
He gives me a wave and a smile so cheerful that I grit my teeth.
Something about him rubs me the wrong way.
Or maybe it’s just that I don’t appreciate his interest in Taylor.
Maybe it’s because I don’t want anyone else’s eyes on Taylor but mine.
And Jude’s.
I don’t feel like burning the world down when Jude touches him.
And yes, I realize how crazy this all sounds. I’m aware that I have no claim to Taylor. I’m also aware that making a claim would mean kissing that investment goodbye. But it doesn’t stop me from imagining what it would be like to have him here permanently.
Careful, Roman.