The Boys Back Home

eBooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work. This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental. Samhain Publishing, Ltd. 577 Mulberry Street, Suite 1520 Macon GA 31201 The Boys Back Home Copyright © 2008 by Sierra Dafoe ISBN: 1-60504-181-5 Edited by Linda Ingmanson Cover by Angela Waters All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. First Samhain Publishing, Ltd. electronic publication: August 2008 www.samhainpublishing.com

The Boys Back Home Sierra Dafoe

Dedication

For Red, who read it first.

The Boys Back Home

Chapter One

Cassie sat halfway down the bus, her head leaned back, idly twirling the engagement ring on her finger. For the past twenty-four hours she’d done little else but stare at it blankly, watching the twinkles of light from its crystalline depths flash gold, then crimson, then an ethereal, dancing silver as the moon rose behind her and the bus, trundling its way west from Chicago, left the plains behind and began its groaning ascent into the mountains. She’d slept in sketchy patches, rousing briefly at the glare of neon lights in Salt Lake City, then waking stiff and bleary-eyed at the ungentle touch of the rising sun as they crossed into Idaho. Under its flat, colorless illumination even the high-grade diamond on her finger had looked sullen and dull. Now, hours later, the bus finally wheezed to a halt and Cassie lifted her head, rubbed her scratchy, tired eyes and looked out the window. Thin afternoon sunlight trickled down over a smattering of tired-looking buildings as dusty and pale as the dirt they crouched upon. They clustered together at the junction of two nondescript state roads, fronted by cracked, deserted sidewalks tufted here and there with clumps of dead grass. A single battered pickup stood by the greasy pumps of the Esso station. Back to the bustling metropolis of Preacher’s Bend, she thought mordantly. Oh joy.

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Sighing, she fumbled her suitcase out from under the seat—a process made easier by the fact that, after the last stop in Rigby, she was the only remaining passenger—and clambered up the aisle, fighting her own reluctance. Why on earth had she come? Richard was handsome, wealthy, successful… What more did she want? What more could any woman ask for? And he was hardly being unreasonable—all he’d asked her to do was set a date for the wedding. Why should that have sent her scurrying all the way back to Preacher’s Bend? Her doubts seemed to follow her up the aisle, as bulky and awkward as the suitcase banging her shins. She stepped off the bus and the door swung shut behind her, leaving her standing on the cracked pavement as the bus pulled away. Down the street, a solitary car turned into the parking lot of the Stop’n’Go. A cold breeze tugged fitfully at the flag outside the post office. The sky, a faded, powdery blue, stretched like a threadbare sheet over the rumpled bed of the Idaho plain, mile after mile of barren, empty fields ringed in by mountains towering in the distance, their sharp, jagged peaks already dusted with snow. Cassie stared, her suitcase forgotten in her hands, drinking in the openness, the stillness. You forget, she thought numbly. You forget in the city how much space there is out here. Then the autumn chill penetrated her clothing, and she shivered. Turning away from the view of the Rockies, she crossed the street to Bea’s Coffee Shop, reached for the door—and stopped abruptly, gazing at the enormous two-carat diamond glittering on her finger. In this setting, with the low, weather-worn buildings of Preacher’s Bend around her, the engagement ring Richard had given her ten months before looked almost desperately ostentatious. But that was the whole point, wasn’t it? To prove, clearly and unmistakably, that she was engaged, that she’d moved on with her life, that she was successful, happy—in short, that she was over it? Then why did you come back, Cass? Tell me that. “Oh, hell.” Scowling, Cassie worked the ring off and shoved it in her coat pocket.

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She pulled open the door, and t bell above it jingled. The smell of strong coffee and fresh-baked pastries plumed out to greet her. So did Bea’s warm, familiar voice. “Cassie Jordan! I don’t believe it.” Cassie grinned as Bea Evans, still as spry as ever, slid a tray of pecan rolls into the display case and came around the counter, peeling off her oven mitts. Enveloping Cassie in a floury hug, Bea gave her a vigorous squeeze. “Oh, it’s good to see you home. Let me take a look at you.” Holding her at arm’s length, Bea cocked her head, her warm brown eyes scrutinizing her closely. “You look tired. You’ve been gone too long.” Cassie shrugged uncomfortably. “Yeah, well, I figured it was about time to check in on the old homestead, make sure it wasn’t falling to pieces.” “It’s not.” There was a cryptic twinkle in Bea’s eyes as she waved her to a stool. “Well, good. That’s a relief. And you? How are you holding up?” “Oh, same old same old. At my age if it’s not one thing breaking down, it’s another.” Bea chuckled as she dished up a pecan roll, its top drizzled with warm glaze, and poured a cup of coffee for Cassie. “Now eat. You’re too scrawny.” Taking a bite, Cassie gave a deep sigh of contentment. She’d missed Bea’s pecan rolls, rich and chewy and sprinkled generously with nuts. Every time she bought a pastry in Chicago, it invariably tasted stale. Bea watched her, smiling slightly. After a moment, though, her expression darkened, and she said, “I was real sorry about your mom, Cassie. I wanted to say something at the funeral, but you left so quickly…” Her voice trailed off inquisitively, and Cassie grimaced to herself. So let her think that’s why you left town, Cass. It’s better that way. But as heartbroken as she’d been by her mother’s death, that wasn’t what had driven her, running like a scared rabbit, all the way from Preacher’s Bend to the windy streets of Chicago and into Richard’s arms. Aloud, she replied, “I know. I’m sorry. I just had to get away for a while.” Bea nodded sagely. “I felt the same way when my mom passed on. Felt like my whole world was falling to pieces. But you’re back now,” she added with a last, satisfied nod. “Back where you belong. You’ve been missed around here, Cassie Jordan.”

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Cassie shifted uncomfortably at her words, both wanting and afraid to ask who, exactly, had missed her. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she was terrified of hearing their names. Not his. Their. And that was the whole problem, wasn’t it? Even the unflappable Meredith Jordan had never had a solution for that dilemma. Cassie felt tears sting her eyes as she remembered the endless reassurances her mother had tendered over the years—reassurances which had never helped in the least. It’s just a phase, Cassie. Why, I used to fall in love with near about every boy I saw… You’re young yet, there’s no shame in not knowing what you want… Don’t worry, sweetie, someday you’ll meet a man who… A man. Always a man. She sighed, thinking of the engagement ring hidden in her coat pocket, and lifted the coffee mug to her lips. Then the bell above the doorway jingled, and Cassie froze. Suddenly, her heart was thudding like a jackhammer in her chest. She heard heavy footsteps approach, pause behind her… God, Cassie, get a grip! she told herself sternly. It’s probably just old Mr. Hawley, or Mr. Tennant, or hell, it could be anybody. It wasn’t. “Afternoon, Bea. You got any of that coffee to go?” That warm, rumbling baritone voice could belong to only one person on earth. Cassie’s fingers shook so badly she could barely put the mug back down, and she hunched her shoulders, desperately wishing she could sink into the floor and disappear. “Oh, I think we could manage something.” There was an anticipatory gleam in Bea’s eyes. “One today, or two?” “Two.” Bea filled two Styrofoam cups, held them out and rang up the sale, and then, then, just as Cassie could feel him turning away and was beginning to consider letting herself sigh in relief… “Kyle Watson,” Bea said sternly, “aren’t you even going to say hello to Cassie?”

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Thump. Something hit the floor, followed immediately by a pained oath. “Shit! Damn! Hell, that stings.” Cassie glanced over her shoulder to see coffee splattered across the floor and Kyle Watson, his broad shoulders hunched beneath his worn sheepskin jacket, glaring at Bea from under the rim of his Stetson as he sucked the back of his hand. “Dammit, Bea! You did that on purpose.” Bea laughed. “I’ll get you another.” Kyle scrubbed futilely at the sleeve of his coat while Bea poured him a fresh cup of coffee, and Cassie, her heart pounding, held herself rigid on the stool, trying so hard not to think of the last time she’d seen him… “You know, Kyle, since you’re going that way, maybe you’d give Cassie a ride out to her place. It’s a powerful long walk.” Damn you, Bea. Cassie could feel the blood rising to her cheeks as Kyle turned, smiling, and then there was no place to hide, no place to look except up into eyes so light a blue they were almost silver, piercing her straight to the bone. He tilted back his Stetson, his face spreading into a grin that was so easy, so familiar, it seemed to melt away the years as if they’d never happened at all. “’Course I will. Hello, Cass.” “Hello, Kyle.” “Here.” He handed her one of the Styrofoam cups, fished out his wallet and laid a five-dollar bill on the counter by Cassie’s plate. “We all set here, Bea?” “Honestly, Kyle, I can pay for my own—” He glanced at her, raising a light brown eyebrow, and Cassie bit her tongue. Just get through this, Cass. Just keep your mouth shut and get home and get through this. “Go on, you two.” Bea flicked her hands at them. “Git.” Grinning, Kyle hefted her suitcase and held open the coffee shop door. Chin tilted in the air, Cassie marched out, ridiculously aware of his nearness as she passed him, of the way her head barely came up to his chin. That was one more thing she’d forgotten—how deceptively tall Kyle Watson really was.

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If only she’d managed to forget everything else, too. There was a shiny black pickup sitting at the curb outside, an empty horse trailer hitched to the bumper. Putting her suitcase in the bed, Kyle opened the passenger door for her. The cab had that distinctive new car tang, and Cassie looked up at him as she climbed in. “You must be doing well for yourself.” “Oh, we do all right.” He shrugged dismissively and closed the door. We. We do all right. A pain Cassie had almost convinced herself had finally healed knifed through her heart. She huddled deep into her coat, watching him walk around the front of the pickup, the breeze playing through his short blond hair. All her life, it seemed, it had been the three of them—her, Kyle Watson and Alan Caine. They’d sat with her from her very first day in grade school, Kyle’s head with its mop of honey blond curls bent above his desk on her left, Alan’s shaggy, raven black one on her right. They’d taught her to fish, grinning at her girly squeamishness over hooking a worm. Year after year, they’d gone to the county fair, all three of them cramming their skinny hips into the Ferris wheel seat, their scabby knees rubbing together, hollering as the wheel turned, lifting them higher and higher until the whole world was spread out before them… And when Cassie had first started dreaming of kisses, it had been Alan and Kyle who’d featured in her private fantasies. God, how many times had she dreamed of them? How many nights had she lain in her bed, her fingers rubbing eagerly at the downy-soft fur covering her mons as she pictured first one then the other kissing her mouth, their friendly, familiar gazes deepening into something more? She looked away as Kyle slid behind the wheel, biting her lip. From the corner of her eye she saw him glance in the rearview mirror, nodding at the empty trailer. “Just dropped a nice little mare off over to Jackson Hole. Those rich ski folks have been the salvation of ranchers around here, I tell you. Got their fancy spreads, want a couple of pretty horses to go with ’em.” Cassie nodded mutely, staring at the road ahead as he pulled away from the curb, his strong, tanned hand resting easily on the gearshift. When she’d left he’d still been a boy,

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practically, his face unlined by the harsh Idaho sun. Now there were tiny wrinkles at the corners of his light blue eyes, and a sense of assurance, of maturity, that made her feel even more awkward in contrast. Somewhere during the last three years, Kyle Watson had grown up. And you, Cassie? Have you grown up? She clenched her jaw, uncomfortably aware of the ring in her pocket. She folded her fingers over it, pressing the sharp, oversized rock into her palm. Coward, she thought to herself. How long are you going to keep avoiding the truth? Straightening her spine, she asked, keeping her tone purposefully light, “And how’s Alan?” Kyle glanced at her, his gaze flat and unreadable. Cassie wondered if she looked as pale as she felt. “He’s fine.” “Is he…” She couldn’t bring herself to ask the question. “Do you see a lot of him these days?” “We run a ranch together, Cass. What do you think?” Cassie nodded, turning her head to hide the tears that sprang to her eyes. She stared at the flat, empty fields, painfully aware of Kyle’s warm, familiar scent in the closeness of the cab, feeling both awkward and miserable. All her life she’d loved them. They’d woven themselves into every childhood memory she had, every dream, every moment. And when her love, like her adolescent body, had grown into adulthood, Cassie had found herself on the horns of a dilemma that no one, so far as she knew, had ever experienced before. She couldn’t have both of them. Even as a girl, she’d known that. It didn’t work that way. But she couldn’t have chosen between them, not ever. They were Alan and Kyle—how could she choose? For years, she’d carefully hidden her growing feelings, her desire for them both assuaged and exacerbated by their constant presence…and in the end it hadn’t mattered. In the end, they’d chosen each other. Kyle sat beside her, his gaze fixed on the road. Surreptitiously, Cassie studied his strong profile, the slight cleft in his chin, the short blond stubble along his firm jaw. His

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hair, still as wavy as when he was a boy, had darkened to a deep, tawny gold. It was clipped short, curling slightly at the nape of his neck. The broad, rangy shoulders under his sheepskin jacket had filled out, gaining a solid layer of muscle. He was even more attractive now than he’d been at twenty. Merely looking at him, Cassie felt a familiar throb between her thighs and was conscious of the tightness of her jeans across her mons, the seam pressing lightly against her clit. She jerked her head away, gazed instead at the passing fields. The empty trailer rattled over a pothole, and as the road sloped slowly upward she braced herself against the first sight of her old house, standing abandoned and forlorn in a tall patch of weeds, the shutters hanging askew, likely, or gone altogether. Latching shutters had been the last thing on her mind when she’d high-tailed it out of town, catching the five a.m. Greyhound in front of the post office, hardly caring where it was headed. But as they topped the slope and turned into the drive, Cassie stared, dumbfounded. The yard had been carefully tended, the grass, brown as straw, raked free of leaves. The upstairs shutters, freshly painted, were securely latched. Even the shrubs flanking the front porch had been recently trimmed. Dazed, she hardly noticed Kyle opening the cab door for her, taking her hand as he helped her out. He followed her up onto the porch, leaning against the railing as she walked to the old porch swing, pushing it lightly. It squeaked softly back and forth, its chain recently oiled, the slats of the seat painted a blinding white. Cassie glanced over her shoulder to find Kyle watching her, his silvery eyes unreadable, a strange, hungry light burning deep within them. “You did this.” She ran her hand along the back of the swing, stilling its motion. He nodded, digging his hands deep into the pockets of his faded jeans. “Me and Alan, yeah. Just couldn’t stand the thought of watching the old place fall to pieces, I guess.” That, right there, was why she loved them so. Even though she’d been gone three years, even though she’d left without a word, still they’d done all this for her. They’d always been there for her. Always.

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And that just made it worse. She shouldn’t have come. It was stupid, pointless. There was nothing here for her but old memories and pain. She turned her head to hide the tears glimmering in her eyes, and Kyle cleared his throat gruffly. “Door’s open, if you want to go in.” He loped down the steps, fetching her suitcase from the bed of the truck as Cassie pressed down the latch and went inside.

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Chapter Two

Sunlight streamed through the windows in the parlor, flooding the hall with light. Cassie rested her hand on the newel post, gazing up the stairs to the shadowed second story. Her old denim jacket, the one she’d worn all through high school, hung on the coat rack behind the door, and she felt like all she’d have to do would be to turn and look down the hall into the kitchen and she’d see her mother standing at the kitchen counter where she’d stood a thousand times, her sleeves rolled up and an apron protecting her blouse, kneading dough in the big yellow bowl. Yesterday. It could all have been yesterday. Cassie clapped a hand to her mouth as tears spilled down her cheeks, fighting to contain the sobs that shook her. And it was the old, playful Kyle who entered behind her, his warm, deep voice teasing as he set the suitcase down and hung up his hat. “Well, now, that’s not quite the reaction we were aiming for, Cass.” Her shoulders shook, and his tone changed immediately. “Hey. Hey, Cassie.” Turning her to face him, he took one look into her eyes and slid his arms around her, pulling her close till her head was cradled on his chest as she cried in great, whooping sobs. “I miss her, Ky. I miss her so much.” “I know, baby. I know.” He held her, stroking her hair, and she buried her face against the worn, fragrant softness of his sheepskin coat as she cried.

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There was only one other man in her entire life who had ever held her the way Kyle Watson did, who had made her feel this warm and safe and protected—and his name wasn’t Richard James Baldwin. Oh hell, Mom, why did I come back? Why aren’t you here to tell me what to do? One pain blurred into another, and suddenly she was twenty-one again, laughing, giddy-headed with her first legal beer buzz as first Kyle, then Alan, spun her around the floor of Big Blue’s Billiards and Beer, taking turns partnering her while the jukebox cranked out Hank Williams tunes. She’d been drunk enough to press against them, loving the feel of their strong arms around her. She’d rested her head against Kyle’s bony shoulder, letting the world rotate slowly as he’d held her close, so close that she could hear his heartbeat thundering and feel the tension that trembled through his lean, rangy frame. He wasn’t the only one who had trembled, Cassie admitted. She'd still been a virgin, but nevertheless her body had instinctively known what it wanted. She’d strained toward him, feeling every rasp of sensation as her breasts brushed against his chest, aware of the damp, silky heat curling deep in her groin. Then Alan had claimed her, his coal black hair whispering against her cheek as she’d clung to him, hardly daring to breathe, feeling his long, taut thighs move against hers as they’d swayed slowly back and forth. When she’d gone to the ladies’ room afterward, her crotch had been so slick and sensitive she’d slid a finger into herself almost wonderingly. Then she’d moaned, letting her head drop back as her fingers found the sensitive ridge of her clit and pressed—once. That’s all it had taken. The tension inside her had snapped like a twig, leaving her shuddering and gasping, trying to stifle her moans as the aftershocks poured through her. They’d been waiting for her in the parking lot when she’d finally tugged on her coat and staggered out of Big Blue’s. The windshield of Kyle’s truck had been clouded with frost, and exhaust from the tailpipe had plumed in the air. Silently, grinning to herself, she’d snuck around to the far side of the truck, planning to pound on the windshield and give them the scare of their lives.

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Instead she’d frozen, one hand poised midair, her heart shattering as she’d watched Alan put his arm around Kyle and pull him into a harsh, desperate embrace. They way they’d kissed each other, their tongues darting deep, hands coming up to cup each other’s faces, their fingers digging through each other’s hair… Even now, her clit pulsed at the memory of that kiss, the sheer, sensual savagery of it. Their hunger had shown in every deep, panting groan, in the tremble of their fingers, in the way their bodies strained toward each other through their bulky winter jackets. They’d sucked at each other’s tongues, their well-known faces suddenly strange and unfamiliar in the flush of desire, and Cassie had felt a cold deeper than all the winters she’d ever lived sink into her bones. Why had they never looked at her like that? How come they never wanted her? Tilting his head back, Alan had swallowed as Kyle nipped at his neck, his voice hoarse as he whispered, “Please, Ky. I can’t wait any longer. I can’t.” Kyle had turned , Cassie remembered, glancing back over his shoulder toward the pool hall. She’d followed his gaze, half expecting to see herself staggering across the parking lot, laughing and oblivious. The girl she’d been only five minutes before seemed suddenly as much a stranger as the two boys in the pickup truck, necking furiously while she’d leaned against a bathroom stall, finger-fucking herself and dreaming of them. How could she have been so blind? She’d ducked down behind the rail of the truck bed, her heart thudding like a mallet in her chest. She remembered wondering how it could pound so when it was lying in jagged pieces inside her. Part of her had wanted to fling open the door, shriek at them, rake their handsome, deceitful faces with her nails…but some other, darker part had drawn her silently back to her feet to stare through the frost-rimed glass as Kyle unbuckled Alan’s belt and bent down, his honey gold hair falling around his face as he’d slid his lips around Alan’s jutting cock, taking it deep into his mouth. She’d never even seen a man’s erect penis before. Heat had exploded inside her cunt even as her throat swelled shut with tears, and she’d watched, unable to drag her gaze away, as Kyle pulled back, giving her a quick, shadowed glimpse of Alan’s cockhead,

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shiny with spit and so hard it could have been carved out of marble. Then he’d plunged his head downward, his cheeks forming hollows as he sucked hungrily at Alan’s shaft. Alan had leaned against the window, his shaggy black hair brushing the glass inches from her face, and in that moment Cassie had hated him, hated him with a passion deeper than anything she’d ever imagined. Her hands had twisted into fists even as his slid to Kyle’s hair, his fingers twining through it as he groaned, thrusting his hips upward, his entire body arching as he shoved his cock into Kyle’s mouth. Cassie stared blindly at the milky drop of fluid that escaped Kyle’s lips as he swallowed, trickling down his strong chin. Then something had snapped inside her, sending her running as she never had before in her life, her pulse thudding in her ears and the thick, heavy agony in her groin pounding mercilessly… It was infuriating that even now, three years later, the single most hurtful memory of her life could still make her ache with desire. Her sobs deepened, and she beat futilely at Kyle as he held her tighter, murmuring soothing words that only exacerbated the pain in her heart. How could he hold her like this, damn him? How could he touch her so gently when she hated him? He’d broken her heart, he and Alan—they’d torn it between them like two puppies with a sock, leaving her with nothing but ripped, tangled shreds. Why wouldn’t he let her go? Kyle was saying something, but she was shrieking too loud to hear him, her fists flailing at his chest, his shoulders, struggling to break his grip on her. She screamed as he swung her upward, scooping her unceremoniously into arms that felt suddenly like steel bands, pinning her to him. He carried her into the parlor and lowered her onto to the sofa. Immediately Cassie sprang back off it, trying to get past him. “Cassie!” Grabbing her arm, he shoved her back down, pinning her bodily to the cushions. She arched below him, screaming, fighting against the hands clasping her shoulders, the legs wrapped tight around her own.

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“Cass! Damn it, Cass, breathe!” She glared up at him wildly…and saw him staring down at her, panting, his eyes wide and shocked. Like a cord snapping, her rage broke, running out of her like water through sand. She sobbed, feeling all the grief and hurt she’d kept so long at bay wash over her, seizing her as ruthlessly as a tidal wave. Nothing was safe. Nothing held its shape—not Kyle, not Alan, not the world. Nothing. Ten days after that night at Big Blue’s, Meredith Jordan had suffered a fatal heart attack. Cassie, who had moved through those ten days wrapped in a numbness so deep she’d honestly believed she wasn’t really that hurt, had found the last tenuous strands of her childhood torn away, leaving her with nothing but a hollowness she knew she’d never be able to fill. Now she cried, feeling the warm weight of Kyle’s body over her like a blanket, his arms shifting around her to hold her close. It wasn’t his fault that he wanted Alan. And he did love her. He did. He’d even been there for her at her mother’s funeral, if she’d wanted him, if she’d even so much as lifted a hand… The parking lot hadn’t, in fact, been the last time she’d seen them. She’d spotted them at the cemetery, standing together far back in the crowd, their faces pale and somber. But by then she’d been too far gone to even care. As the first shovelful of halffrozen dirt had thudded down onto the casket, she’d turned on her heel and left. Before the sun rose again on Preacher’s Bend she’d been a hundred miles east, heading for Chicago. Sliding an arm around his neck, she hugged Kyle apologetically as her tears finally slowed. His chest heaved with sharp, rasping breaths. Realizing only then how badly she’d frightened him, Cassie turned her head to whisper “I’m sorry” in his ear…and froze as his mouth, hot and demanding, closed on hers. For a moment, her mind went terrifyingly blank. This couldn’t be happening. It couldn’t. He didn’t want her. He’d never wanted her…

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Then she was kissing him back with a frenzy that stunned her, pulling him to her with a desperation she’d never once felt with Richard. Kyle’s hands stroked her face, her arms, her back as their lips locked together, tongues darting hungrily into each other’s mouths, their bodies straining together as if starved for the contact. Kyle pulled back abruptly, staring down at her in shock, his chest rising and falling rapidly. His silvery blue eyes seemed to burn into her, wide with questions, doubts and— unmistakably—desire. Groaning, he bent his neck to seize her mouth again, his tongue diving deep between her lips to taste her, devour her. She arched up against him as his hips pressed down, rubbing his cock right against the place that ached for him—that had always ached for him. How many nights, how many years had she dreamed of this? Practically whimpering with impatience, Cassie tugged Kyle’s shirt from his jeans, sliding her hands under it to feel the hard, solid ripple of his abs. He kept his mouth tight against hers as he unzipped her jacket and unbuttoned her blouse, his fingers shaking, his eyes closed as if he, too, could barely believe what was happening. Hesitantly, he brushed his hand over the lace of her bra and she cried out, moaning into his mouth, holding him tighter as he squeezed first one breast, then the other with growing assurance. Like teenagers, they rubbed against each other, legs intertwining, hips pistoning fiercely as they fought to press their bodies even closer together. The bulge of his erection strained against her clit, and he panted in her ear, his fingers finding the taut nub of her nipple and squeezing it over and over until she was writhing beneath him, her thighs wrapped around his hips, her hands scrabbling madly at his heavy sheepskin jacket. She dragged it off him, hungry for the feel of his body against hers, and felt him stiffen in sudden doubt or fear. He couldn’t stop now—he couldn’t! With wanton desperation, Cassie buried her hands in his hair, dragging his mouth back down to hers, kissing him until something inside of him, some last hesitation, crumbled like sand. With a harsh, wild sob, he thrust his tongue deep into her open mouth and dragged her tight against him.

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Fumbling, eager, they tore at each other’s clothes. Kyle hugged her to his chest with one arm as he worked her coat off with the other. Cassie didn’t even bother with the buttons of his shirt as she yanked it over his head, taking the white T-shirt beneath with it, and tugged his belt loose. Then she dropped her head against the arm of the couch, panting. Bracing himself on his arms, Kyle looked down at her, his pale, piercing eyes drinking in the sight of her. Her blouse hung open; her breasts, cupped in her white lace bra, heaved with each breath. His gaze traced them, his pupils widening, and Cassie studied him just as avidly. She hadn’t seen him shirtless since he was thirteen, his lengthening body still all sharp angles and seeming half-finished. Now she stared wonderingly, transfixed by the width of his burly shoulders, the solid curve of his collarbones, the firm swell of his chest flecked now with soft blond hairs. His nipples, small and tight, brushed against her palms as she slid her hand over his pecs, following the smooth rise and fall of his ribcage down to the taut muscles of his abs. Groaning, Kyle bent his head, kissing the curve of her breasts above her bra, then raked his teeth lightly over one lace-clad nipple. Her cunt, already soaked with arousal, throbbed hungrily, and she pressed against him, sliding her hands up his back, feeling the heavy muscles beneath the velvety skin. Burying his face between her breasts, he murmured, “Cass… Oh, Cass.” Cupping his head, Cassie led his mouth to one nipple, crying out gladly as his lips closed over it, sucking it through the thin, scratchy fabric. Somewhere in her mind she could see him, his head bent just as it was now, his lips tugging hungrily at Alan’s jutting cock. Fiercely, she pushed the image away. For once in her life, damn it, she would have this. Now, if never again, she would have one of the two men she loved. She closed her eyes, refusing to think, wrapping her arms more tightly around his neck as he tongued and suckled her aching breast. His breathing was heavier now, deeper, the sound of his panting almost frantic as he tugged at her nipple, sucking it

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greedily. He moaned deep in his throat, and Cassie gasped as her womb clenched, already on the verge of climax. As blindly as a puppy, Kyle nuzzled at her body, his tongue flickering over her skin as he moved slowly downward. His lips whispered almost worshipfully down the softness of her belly, pausing at her navel to explore it while his fingers, awkward with desire, tugged at her jeans. The small, furtive sound of her zipper opening was, Cassie thought, the most erotic thing she’d ever heard. He hauled clumsily at her jeans, peeling them off, and laughed nervously as they tangled on her sneakers. “I haven’t exactly had a lot of practice at this.” He glanced up at her, his eyes wide, questioning, almost frightened. In answer she kicked off her sneakers, shedding her jeans with them. Kyle sat back on his haunches, his belt hanging open, simply looking at her, his eyes following the line of her thighs, her hips, the curve of her breasts. Cassie stared at the hard bulge of his cock inside his jeans, so erect she could see the flushed, engorged tip straining just beyond the worn denim. Wonderingly, Kyle reached out, running his hands slowly up her thighs. When his fingers brushed the line of her panties, Cassie moaned. Kyle’s eyes fluttered shut, his face going lax as his attention turned inward. He swallowed twice, his Adam’s apple bobbing sharply. Then he opened his eyes. Lightly, exploring, he trailed one finger down the front of her panties, tickling her clit. Cassie gasped again and let her thighs fall open, and Kyle’s gaze dropped to her cunt, his eyes widening at the wetness soaking the white fabric. Reaching down, she grabbed his wrist and slowly, unmistakably, pushed his hand against her crotch until his fingers slid beneath her panties and one sank deep into the hot slickness of her cunt. With a deep, hungry groan, Kyle bent forward, closing his mouth over the swell of her mons. He suckled it right through her panties, his tongue jabbing against the stretched cotton, teasing her clit till she was writhing beneath him, tilting her hips up as he pistoned his finger in and out of her. Her head spun. Her heart thundered in her chest like a

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racehorse. Digging her hands into Kyle’s short, wavy hair, she pressed his mouth even harder against her. Impatiently, he grabbed the fabric of her panties, yanking them aside, and moaned as he closed his mouth around her swollen clit. His tongue danced along its length, lapping it as he plunged first one finger, then two, inside her, moving them faster and faster. The heat in her groin roared upward, flaring along her nerves, and Cassie heard small, rising cries spilling shamelessly from her throat. She didn’t care—nothing mattered but the feel of Kyle’s mouth tugging at her clit, his fingers plumbing her slick, hot passage, fucking her with a frenzy that matched the fire inside her, matched it and stroked it to a blazing, blinding lust. She cried out as the tension inside her shattered. Her whole body throbbed, straining against him as she crested. His tongue curled down to catch the juices spilling from her, lapping around his fingers as they thrust in and out of her. Her cunt clenched around them, squeezing them tight, making Kyle groan, his entire body going rigid with need. She clutched at his shoulders, tugging him upward, and reveled in the desperate craving that suffused his face. His eyes were half-closed, his lips parted, his features heavy with almost mindless arousal. His cock jerked inside his jeans as she slid her hand over it and deftly slid his zipper down. His erection sprang out to greet her. She wrapped her hand around it, amazed at its thickness. Veins pulsed just beneath the velvety skin, and she traced them lightly with one finger. Kyle groaned, tilting his head back, and Cassie tugged at his jeans, working them down over his hips. His cock strained toward her, bobbing with the force of her tugs. She had to have it. She couldn’t wait any more. Grabbing the full, hard curves of his ass in both hands, she dragged him down atop her. His swollen cockhead pressed against her furred outer lips, rubbing through the juices slicking her folds. “Cassie,” he groaned desperately, almost warningly, his voice harsh with need. Suddenly terrified he’d pull away, Cassie buried her face against the strong column of his neck and pushed her hips upward, crying aloud as he sank into her.

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God, never in her wildest dreams had she imagined he’d feel this good! His cock, longer than Richard’s and seemingly twice as thick, felt like a ramrod inside her, muscling slowly deeper as he spread her open. Her panties dragged across her mons, teasing her clit, and she chewed at her lip, feeling her nipples tighten in sheer ecstasy. He stopped halfway into her, pulled back and then thrust in again, sinking in to the hilt in one hard, impatient lunge. Cassie cried out, hugging him to her, feeling him stiffen as he fought to hold back the orgasm she could sense pulsing in his balls. He hung there, quivering, his cheekbone pressing against hers, his soft whiskers scraping her face lightly as he panted in her ear. Sliding her hands up his back, she squeezed the hard muscles over his shoulder blades, then laced her fingers together around the back of his neck, holding him there. She could feel the warm, heavy weight of his balls against her ass, and his belt buckle trapped between their legs, cold and hard against her thigh. “Oh my God,” Kyle whispered hoarsely. “Oh, Jesus, Cass.” The naked hunger in his voice sent a thrill through her, and her clit throbbed again, making her cunt clench around him. He groaned and ground his hips against hers, the flat plane of his pelvic bone pressed tight against her mons. Rocking back and forth, he worked his cock inside her without ever withdrawing, his hard fullness inside her stoking her senses, the pressure of his groin against hers teasing her clit until it ached. Lifting his head, he kissed her, slow and deep, his tongue probing her mouth. His right hand slid up her ribcage, finding her breast and cupping it, rubbing and caressing her nipple until it blazed with fire. Tugging her bra downward, he rolled the hard, taut nub between his fingers, pinching it, all the while sliding his shaft back and forth in that deep, slow, seductive way that made her head spin and her entire body clamor for more. She reached for him, gliding her hands down to his ass, but he pulled back, shaking his head, his eyes huge and wondering. “Not yet, Cass. Not till you’re ready. I want to feel you come again. I want to feel you come with my cock inside you.” Oh, Jesus. Cassie swallowed as he bent back down, lowering his mouth to her other nipple. When he drew it between his lips, she gasped.

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She was ready. She was so ready… She’d been ready for this for years. Arching her back, she pushed her breasts against his mouth and whimpered as he opened his lips, sucking her harder. “Yes,” she whispered, thrusting her hips up against him. “Oh yes, Kyle, please.” Groaning, he lapped at her nipple, his mouth tugging it blindly, instinctively as he jerked himself out of her and immediately sank back in, spearing her so deep she cried out in wonder. Tilting her hips, she grabbed his ass, working her clit against the hard ridge of his abs as he thrust inside her, pushing her higher, higher… His cock swelled even further, so thick it felt like it was splitting her in two, filling her in a way she’d barely even imagined. Smoothly, gliding on her free-flowing juices, he pounded into her, his balls, hard and round, pressing against her with each stroke. With a harsh, desperate gasp, he pushed himself up onto his arms, staring down the length of her body to where they came together, and watched his cock, gleaming with her juices, hammering into her cunt with a frenzy he couldn’t stop, couldn’t hold back… His eyes, wide and wild, burned into hers as he threw his head back, and Cassie felt everything inside her swirl into bliss, her cunt clenching around him, fire ripping along her veins as he slammed down, his balls pulsing against her ass as he shot his seed deep inside her. She cried out, over and over, pressing up against him while ecstasy roared through her, making her arch and buck as her womb contracted again and again. His cock flexed inside her, flooding her cunt with his juices, giving her every last drop of his desire. His arms trembled and his face, both lax and strangely taut in the throes of his climax, clenched suddenly. Slumping down atop her, he panted, his breath rasping harshly in his broad, solid chest, and Cassie felt the harsh tickle of his whiskers against her neck. “Cassie. God. Oh God. Oh, Cassie.” Tenderly, she cradled him, a heavy lassitude flooding her limbs. She couldn’t move—she could barely imagine ever moving again. But finally, after a long, quiet stillness, Kyle shifted above her, raising his head to gaze down at her ruefully. “You know that’s the first time I ever made love with a woman.”

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She couldn’t help it—she laughed. “Well, you’re a natural.” But at the same time his words tugged at her heart, reminding her… Alan. Kyle drew a deep, shuddering breath, his eyes going dark and distant. Even with his cock still buried deep inside her, it felt to Cassie as if he were suddenly on the other side of the moon. Not that she could talk. She was engaged, for God’s sake! Cassie bit her lip. “Are you going to tell Alan about this?” He looked at her, startled. “Alan’s always known how I felt about you.” “What?” Cassie stared at him. All those years. All those years that she’d fought so desperately to hide her feelings… “Why didn’t you ever say anything?” “Why didn’t you?” Cassie opened her mouth to reply—and stopped. She knew why. They both did. Alan Caine was why. With a sigh, Kyle slid out of her and tugged his jeans back up. His shoulders hunched as he murmured, avoiding her gaze, “It’s all right, Cassie. It doesn’t matter. I…I always knew you wanted him. I could see it in the way you looked at him, the way you… Ah, never mind.” But I wanted you! I wanted you, too! Cassie almost wailed. She wanted to say it, but what would be the point? It was too late, far too late to go back and change things. And they’d built a life together, without her—was she really going to walk in and shatter that any worse than she already had? You know, it really is time you grew up, Cass. Yes. Yes, it was. Cassie watched the muscles in Kyle’s chest flex as he tugged his Tshirt over his head, pulling it down over his taut, rippled abs. Hearing her own voice small and strange in her own ears, she said, “Kyle, I just…want you to know, I’m glad you’re happy together.” He glanced at her sharply. “What do you mean by together?”

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“I…” Cassie fumbled, feeling impossibly awkward. “I mean, living together. You do, don’t you?” “Sure.” He shrugged, tossing her her jeans. “Happens when you’re co-owners of a ranch.” Was that really all there was to it? Cassie didn’t think so. Her panties were a wreck, soaked now with both their juices, but she tugged her jeans on anyway and buttoned her blouse. Kyle had turned away from her, tucking his shirt back into his jeans and buckling his belt. She went to him and slid her arms around his waist, laying her cheek against one heavy shoulder blade. No, she wouldn’t press him. She had no right to demand to know whether they were still lovers. To do so would be a betrayal of everything that had just happened in this room. Their lovemaking had been an unexpected gift—something precious to be treasured, but never repeated. And maybe that’s all I came here for, Cassie thought. Maybe I really just came back to say goodbye. She wouldn’t tell Richard, she knew. Not ever. It was just something old that she had to work through and let go of before she could finally, truly be with him. Maybe that’s all that growing up was, she thought. Learning to let go and be grateful for what you had. Turning her head, she kissed Kyle’s strong back. “Thank you,” she whispered. She felt his hand cover hers, holding it tightly. Then he led her to the sofa and sat her down, kneeling at her feet as he slid first one sneaker then the other back onto her feet and tied them for her as if she were a little girl. She smiled, watching him straighten and stomp on his boots. “Come on,” he said, holding out his hand. “Come on where?” She let him tug her to her feet, sliding her jacket on as he held it for her, and followed him back out to the hall. He pulled on his old sheepskin jacket and opened the door. “I’m taking you home.” “What?” Suddenly her passivity melted into sheer terror. Just thinking about Alan was bad enough—but seeing him? After sleeping with Kyle? “No, I can’t. I can’t.”

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“Sure you can.” She shook her head, her gaze sliding away from his. “Really, Kyle, I can’t. I’m exhausted. I just got back. And—” “—and there is nothing in the fridge, the oil tank’s empty, and unless you’re planning on eating the two-year-old soda crackers in the pantry, you’re coming with me,” he finished firmly. Picking up her suitcase, Kyle lifted his Stetson from the coatrack and tilted it rakishly back on his forehead. “Not trying to crowd you, ma’am, just trying to keep you from starving.” Cassie laughed helplessly. How had he always been able to do that, to make her smile when she was absolutely miserable? He grinned, a dimple showing through the golden scruff of his whiskers. Then his mood grew more somber. “Seriously, Cass. It’ll be down in the thirties tonight, and there’s no heat. You can’t stay here.” His gaze held hers, warm but firm. Holding out a hand, he waited. Reluctantly, Cassie took it and let him lead her to the truck. But while she sat in the cab, nervously watching Kyle in the rearview mirror as he stowed her suitcase, she dug in her coat pocket and jammed the diamond ring back onto her finger, blushing at her own hypocrisy. For a woman who just cheated on her fiancé, you’re sure quick to summon Richard’s ghost for protection, Cass. She sighed and straightened her shoulders, trying to brace herself. If the shock of seeing Kyle again had been bad, seeing Alan was going to be hell on earth.

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Chapter Three

The sun, red and weary, slumped toward the distant hills as they turned off the main road twenty minutes later. Kyle got out and opened the stock gate, and the tension in Cassie’s gut twisted tighter as they bumped and rattled up the dirt drive. “This is the old Robertson place, isn’t it?” “Yep. Was, anyway.” Kyle’s voice sounded strained, and Cassie glanced over. His knuckles, tight on the steering wheel, were white around the edges. Great. He’s as tense as I am. She gazed out the window, wishing she had the courage to tell him to turn around. She’d sleep in a freezing cold house, she didn’t care. Hell, she’d hop the bus back to Chicago and marry Richard without another word… Ahead, she could see a cluster of buildings surrounded by a maze of corrals. As they drew closer she spied perhaps three dozen mustangs moving behind the fences, the slanting light of sunset dusting their backs. Sturdy, deep-chested, they whinnied, their heads lifting in curiosity as the truck pulled past. “Oh, Kyle, they’re beautiful.” He smiled—rather tightly, Cassie thought—and parked near the house, a substantial two-storey building with a broad covered porch running around three sides. She got out, smelling the rich, musky scent of horses on the cold breeze, and shivered. There was no sign of Alan.

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“He’s probably bringing in the horses,” Kyle said, noting her sweeping glance. He set her suitcase on the porch with a thump. “Whyn’t you go ahead in, get yourself settled. Washroom’s the third door on the right at the top of the stairs—there’s plenty of towels if you want a bath. I’d better go give him a hand.” Cassie nodded and climbed onto the porch, leaning on the rail as she watched him stride toward the stables, his hands shoved deep in his pockets. Then she lifted her head and looked around. Low on the horizon, a bank of clouds washed purple and orange in the light of the setting sun. Far to the east the Rockies towered, their snowy peaks gleaming with hints of pink and gold, stark against the darkening sky. Once she’d known what it was like to live here, to wake up every morning to this stillness, this immensity. Once, she’d belonged here. Where did she belong now? Her doubts, more chilling than the sharp edge of the breeze, sank into her bones, and she turned away, picked up her suitcase and opened the door. The silence inside the house made her feel even more like an intruder. To her right she could see a living room with shelves of books and a sturdy, comfortable leather couch facing a large TV. Through an archway she caught a glimpse of the kitchen. Then she looked up the carpeted stairs and swallowed. She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t go up there. The idea of seeing their toothbrushes hanging side by side—or worse, spying a rumpled double bed through a door left casually ajar… Third door on the right. Top of the stairs. You can do this, Cassie. Instead she turned and went back out onto the porch. Thirty yards from the house, two long stables faced each other across the drive. She could see Kyle in the corral behind the one on the right, leading the horses one by one into the stable. She started down the drive toward him, then paused as a cold gust of wind carried the sound of pounding hooves to her ears. Glancing around, Cassie crossed the drive. Behind the left-hand stable, she could see the fencing of another corral.

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“Hi-yah! Get on up!” The harsh, exultant cry rang loud in her ears and Cassie, her heart thundering as loudly as the horse’s hooves, flattened herself against the stable wall. Something flashed by ahead, and she crept to the corner and peered around it. Inside the corral, a sleek black mustang galloped madly, its hooves flailing, its mane whipping the air. Crouched low over its back, his dark brows knotted in fierce concentration, was Alan Caine. He rode bareback, his old corduroy coat unbuttoned and flapping behind him, his lean, powerful body surging with the stallion’s movements as easily as if he were a part of the horse itself. His lips were drawn tight against his teeth as he urged the mustang faster, faster still, and his hair, still long enough to cover his broad shoulders, streamed in the wind. His features, like Kyle’s, had long left behind the final vestiges of childhood. There was nothing left of the slightly elfin-faced boy she remembered, with his high, sharp cheekbones and ragged mop of black hair. Cassie watched him, her heart hammering, feeling the blood rush to her cheeks. He reminded her of the Rockies—harsh, implacable, distant and stunning. The sight of him, his hard jaw emphasized by the black shadow of his whiskers, fairly stole the breath from her lungs and made her nipples tighten with a longing she’d never been able to quench. Using neither bridle nor bit, he turned the mustang with a squeeze of his thighs, bringing it around sharply and pointing it straight at the fence. Kicking in his heels, he buried his hands in its mane as it leapt, arching against the red-streaked sky. He galloped the stallion in a wide arc, then brought it to a full stop with one short, sharp “Hai!” The mustang stood quivering as he vaulted from its back and froze, his dark eyes narrowing in surprise. Cassie trembled beneath that sharp gaze. She’d meant to raise a hand in greeting, maybe flash him a quick, polite smile, but she found herself rooted to the spot, pinned to the earth like a frightened rabbit.

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The breeze ruffled Alan’s hair, tossing it forward into his eyes. He pushed it back impatiently and, retrieving his hat from the fence post where he’d hung it, tugged it on. Then he strode to her, his chest heaving, his body still taut with adrenaline. Cassie’s knees quaked beneath her as she looked up into his hard, chiseled face, and a furtive heat throbbed between her thighs. Jesus. Had she ever, even for one second, managed to pretend she’d forgotten Alan Caine? Kyle with his broad, easy smile and rugged good looks was, she supposed, the handsomer of the two. Alan was darker, sterner, his lean, forceful features as distinct as if carved out of granite, the habitual watchfulness he’d had as a boy settled now into something almost…almost grim, Cassie thought, and swallowed. Did she even know Alan Caine? Did she really know him at all? She opened her mouth to say something, anything—but no sound came out. Alan merely stood there silently, towering over her, his implacable gaze raking her up and down. Then Kyle came around the corner of the stable and Alan’s eyes flicked to him, releasing Cassie from her momentary paralysis. She was grateful when Kyle, sensing her nervousness, moved closer. “’Bout time you came home,” Alan finally said. “Where’d you find her?” “In Bea’s.” Alan grunted. “Did you remember my coffee?” “Yep. It’s stone cold by now, though.” Kyle grinned and slid an arm around Cassie’s waist. She flushed, acutely aware of exactly what they’d been doing while Alan’s coffee got cold, and stared at the hard-packed earth. The scuffed toes of Alan’s boots moved into her vision, and she looked up as he grimaced at Kyle. “Figures.” Then he glanced back at Cassie and jerked his chin toward the house. “Go on up. We’ll be there in a bit.” He walked away, leading the sweating horse back toward the corral to cool it down, and an unexpected knife twist of pain flared in Cassie’s gut. What more had she expected, after all? She was the one who’d left without a word. Why should he be happy to see her? Why should he give a damn about her?

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Kyle shifted uncomfortably beside her, and she realized in horror that tears were spilling down her cheeks. He cleared his throat gruffly. “He really is glad to see you, Cass. He just…” “Oh, I know.” Cassie laughed, swiping at her tears. “I’m being silly, that’s all. Expecting to waltz on in here as if nothing’s changed.” “Nothing has changed.” Kyle’s silver-blue eyes, unusually intent, held hers as if willing her to believe it—and she wanted to. Oh, how she wanted to! She would have given anything to be able to roll back the years, go back to a time when they were still kids together, laughing, carefree, back before a night when she’d stood beside Kyle’s truck, watching Alan pull him into a kiss that had seared itself into her brain forever… “Of course it hasn’t.” She twisted the corners of her mouth into something resembling a smile and saw the concern in his eyes shade into relief. He grinned back at her. “Go on and get cleaned up. We won’t be long.” She nodded, holding onto her smile with grim desperation, and turned away, keeping her pace slow and steady when all she wanted to do was run, run just as far and as fast as she could from the tangled emotions tearing her apart. Kyle led the mustangs in one by one and put them into their stalls. Slowly, the restless clop-clop of their hooves stilled as he poured grain into their feed buckets, and the air in the stable grew warmer, full of the easy, contented sounds of their chewing. He was scooping oats into the last bucket when Alan finally led the black stallion into the stable behind him. Kyle handed the bucket to him and watched as Alan poured it for the stallion, his shoulders stiff with tension. “You slept with her.” Alan’s voice was flat, inflectionless—it wasn’t a question. He turned back around, and Kyle recoiled from the sheer rage in Alan’s face. He leaned against the stall, his hat tilted low, his eyes beneath the brim glowing like embers in the dusky light. “She finally finds some man who can make her happy, and you go and sleep with her.” “What?” Kyle stared at him, bewildered. “What are you talking about?” 32

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Alan stared at him, his fury almost palpable. Behind him, the stallion shifted restlessly. “You’re really going to tell me you didn’t see that rock on her finger? Damn thing’s the size of a lug nut, for God’s sake.” “I…” Then the meaning of Alan’s words finally penetrated. “She’s engaged?” Alan nodded slowly, his gaze never leaving Kyle’s face. Kyle pulled off his hat and raked a hand through his hair. “Shit. I swear to God, Alan, I didn’t know. How was I supposed to know? She didn’t say anything.” “Did she have to? Kyle, the woman’s got an engagement ring on, does she have to spell it out for you?” “She didn’t have it on, Al!” “You’re sure?” There was a sudden questioning tension in Alan’s tone—why, Kyle had no idea. “Damn straight, I’m sure. You think I wouldn’t have noticed something like that?” A sudden rage roiled inside him—but Kyle knew full well the anger was just a delaying tactic, a momentary shield against the grief he would feel when the fact sinking slowly into his mind finally hit bottom, cold and hard and absolute. Cassie was engaged. Whatever had happened between them this afternoon, it didn’t matter. She was engaged to marry another man. His voice sounded dead in his own ears as he repeated, “Yeah, I’m sure.” “You’re absolutely certain she wasn’t wearing it.” Kyle glared at him. “Yes, I am absolutely certain. Jesus, do you think I would have…would have…” He could see thoughts flashing darkly behind Alan’s eyes, turning over possibilities and connections that would have never occurred to him in a million years. Oh, he was no dummy, sure, but Alan was quick in a way that almost frightened him sometimes. Like now. A hard, amused grin curved Alan’s lips—a grin that contained more than a trace of bitterness. “’Course you would have. She came back for you.” “What?” Kyle stared at him, disbelieving—but at the same time a fierce, wild emotion leapt inside him, unrestrainable. His heart thundered, and the world seemed to

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tilt around him, as if the very moorings of the universe had suddenly slipped free. It wasn’t possible. It wasn’t… But Alan was seldom wrong. Alan’s grin disappeared as quickly as it had come, his lips twisting in a sudden grimace. “There’s only one reason a woman takes off her engagement ring, Ky. Do I have to spell it out for you?” Kyle shook his head absently, his head spinning. He could see the implications as clearly as Alan. She hadn’t wanted him to know—and the only possible reason was that she wasn’t sure. She wasn’t sure it was what she wanted. Alan turned away abruptly and went to the stable door. Leaning against it, he gazed out at the last grudging streaks of light in the sky. “She wants you, Ky. She’s always wanted you.” Kyle felt a tumble of negations rise to his lips—arguments, rationalizations. He’d never believed that. Never. Not even when she’d held him today, taking him inside her where he’d always longed to be, surrounding him with the heat of her body… Instead, he sighed. “Yeah. Sure. That’s why I practically had to drag her out here.” “Because I’m here. She slept with you, didn’t she?” Alan’s back was as rigid as a flagpole, and the old darkness was back in his eyes—a darkness which Kyle, for all his efforts, had never been able to completely chase away. He closed his eyes, feeling an ache in his chest for all the things he couldn’t fix, couldn’t undo… And now here was one more. He sighed. “It wasn’t like that, Alan. She was crying. I don’t think she’d even gone back to the house after the funeral. It was just shock, that’s all. I was just…” “Trying to comfort her?” Alan laughed harshly. Kyle flushed at his mocking tone. Yes—and no. He’d dreamed of Cassie for so many years—since he was a boy, in fact. There’d never been any other girl he wanted, never been any other girl he’d so much as looked at. Then today, suddenly, she’d been there again, the scent of her hair soft and sweet in his nostrils, her body quivering under him…

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“Okay,” he said. “Okay, yeah. Yeah, I slept with her. I did that. But it’s not me she wants. It never was.” Alan glanced at him, the expression in his eyes hard and certain. “It wasn’t me she took her ring off for.” “So?” And despite Kyle’s determination, the words came spilling out anyway, the old hurt and longing aching in his throat. “Alan, I watched her! Do you know how many years I spent watching her watch you? Christ, her eyes practically used to follow you everywhere.” Alan snorted. “She didn’t even say hello to me.” “Yeah, well, I didn’t exactly see you bending over backward to make her feel welcome.” “Do you really think a ‘Hello, Cassie, good to see you’ is gonna fix everything?” Alan snapped. “Don’t kid yourself. As far as Cassie’s concerned, I’m the one who took you away from her.” “You don’t know that! We don’t know that, damn it!” Kyle slammed a fist against the stable wall. “We don’t even know for sure that she saw us that night.” Something cold and inarguable slid into Alan’s expression, settling over his features like snow over barren, wind-blasted earth. “She saw us, all right. Saw us and left town so fast she near about left her shadow behind.” Kyle couldn’t help it—the bleakness on Alan’s face was too much for him. Going to him, he slid his arms around Alan’s waist. They stood like that a moment, their cheekbones pressed against each other, leaning together as they had so many times, for comfort. “I know,” he whispered. “I know.” He could feel the rough scratch of Alan’s whiskers along his jaw. “And now she’s back,” Alan said. “For you.” His voice was low, harsh with old emotions. “If you let her go this time, you’re a fool.” A sob heaved in Kyle’s chest and he held Alan tighter, remembering all the long, empty years of Cassie’s absence. What if Alan was right? What if she did want him?

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Could he even do it? Could he take her, claim her, knowing full well he’d be breaking Alan’s heart? Because he wasn’t the only one who loved Cassie Jordan. He never had been. They’d grown up together, as close as brothers. There wasn’t a shading of expression in Alan’s black eyes that Kyle didn’t know better than he knew his own face. And even as he himself had dreamed of Cassie through all the years of his adolescence, Kyle had known that Alan dreamed of her, too. There were times when they’d looked at each other, that knowledge dark in their eyes, a secret shared between them while Cassie, laughing, oblivious, had gone on simply being Cassie, tormenting them almost to distraction with her cutoff shorts and slowly lengthening thighs and the heady, intoxicating nearness of her. They’d spoken of it only once, as boys. They’d barely even been teenagers at the time—he’d just turned thirteen, a month after Alan. Cassie had been busy helping her mother that day, and the two boys had wandered down to the creek, a shallow, sullen trickle that meandered through a thicket behind Alan's father's barn. They’d sat on the stony bank, tossing pebbles aimlessly. You like her. It had been Alan who’d spoken first, his gaze fixed on the muddy water. Kyle had glanced at him sidelong, feeling a sudden blush heat his cheeks. You like her too, he’d retorted, expecting—or hoping, maybe—Alan to flare up in loud denial. He hadn’t. His silence had been all the answer needed. After a very long time (or at least it had seemed a long time to Kyle, with Alan sitting there motionless while he himself twisted and squirmed) he’d asked timidly, What are we gonna do? Nothing, Alan had answered, his arm hitching back and then swinging with a sharp, unexpected violence, sending a pebble arcing high over the creek to clatter into the bushes on the far side. Nothing. He’d turned to Kyle, his eyes full of the grim determination which would slowly, over the years, consume the quicksilver grin he’d had as a boy. If she chooses you, Ky, I ain’t gonna stand in your way.

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Me neither, he’d replied fervently. And they’d shook on it, spitting into their palms first to seal the bargain. But Cassie had never chosen either of them, seemingly content to enjoy their friendship, and they—like moths to a flame—had hovered, the fire in their bodies burning hotter and hotter with each passing year, each determined to cling to the bond they’d sworn. Kyle’s head swam with the memory of Cassie’s warm body under him, her arms wrapped around his neck as she cried out, her voice rising sweetly in the throes of her climax… “Alan,” he whispered. “Oh Alan, I’m so sorry.” “Don’t be.” Alan jerked his head up, his eyes blazing. “Don’t you ever be sorry. I told you years ago—” “I know,” Kyle whispered, feeling heat sting his eyes and terrified he might cry. He had cried, a dozen times or more, lying in Alan’s arms, seeing Cassie’s face in the darkness. But Alan had never cried. Not once. “No, you don’t,” Alan replied sharply. Then, gritting his teeth as if fighting for control, he added, “Don’t you think I’d rather see the two of you happy than all three of us miserable?” It’s not that, Kyle tried to say, but couldn’t. A sharp pain caught in his throat, and he closed his eyes as the tears streamed down, feeling Alan reach for him, holding him. Alan’s cheek brushed against his and Kyle turned toward it blindly, seeking the harsh, familiar comfort of Alan Cain’s mouth. Alan’s lips closed on his with a fierceness that took his breath away. His hat tumbled to the floor as Alan pulled him closer, his fingers digging into his short hair, plunging his tongue into Kyle’s open mouth. Kyle moaned, his hands sliding laxly down Alan’s arms, feeling the heavy biceps bunch beneath his old corduroy coat. Alan kissed him with a ferocity that was almost savage—it was like being kissed by a tornado, caressed by a thunderstorm. Alan’s teeth

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raked across his lips, hard and bruising. His tongue thrust deeper, lashing. He stroked Kyle’s back, reaching down to cup the muscular swell of Kyle’s ass and tug him firmly against the hard bulge of his erection. Kyle felt his own cock flex in response, thickening inside his pants. He leaned his head against the stable door as their shafts strained, rubbing against each other through the rough fabric of their jeans. Could Cassie ever understand the desperation that had first driven him into Alan’s arms? Would she ever forgive the adolescent urges that had clawed at him, urges he and Alan had slaked on each other’s bodies time and again? He could barely remember how it had started anymore… No. That was a lie. He remembered perfectly. Cassie had turned seventeen the winter before, and if Kyle had once thought he might not survive the heady days of her adolescence when he’d stared raptly at the peeking straps of her training bra, he was sure the delicious torment of her full womanhood would kill him. The creek, for a wonder, had run chest-deep that summer, fed by a record snowfall. Cassie had been wearing cutoffs and a white T-shirt, her bra practically translucent in the water as she’d laughed and splashed at them, daring them to duck her. His blood had thundered in his ears, his head giddy with her nearness and the pentup frustration surging through his body. Alan, he remembered, had been the same way, as restless and fractious as a wild colt. Wrestling and laughing, they’d thrust each other under the surface, limbs tangling with limbs, skin sliding secretively against skin beneath the cool, rushing water, until Cassie had at last torn herself away, fleeing up onto the bank. She’d stood barefoot on the rocky soil, hands planted on her hips, droplets of water cascading down her tanned legs, her breasts so clearly exposed beneath the soaked fabric of her shirt that she might as well have been naked. He’d gaped at her, his cock like a ramrod inside his shorts, his eyes glued to the smoothness of her inner thighs where they disappeared beneath the ragged hem of her cutoffs into mystery. “Well?” she’d demanded. “Aren’t you two ever coming out?”

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He’d glanced at Alan who’d stared back at him, his wide eyes dark with the same awkward knowledge. Panting, their bodies blazing with all the horny lust of seventeen, they’d stayed in the water, hiding their hard-ons until at last Cassie had rolled her eyes and strode away. Then they’d climbed shamefacedly onto the bank, their chests heaving, their groins still throbbing. Sinking to a seat, shivering from his long immersion, Kyle had wrapped his arms around his knees and glanced over at Alan. “Christ,” he’d mumbled. “What’re we gonna do? I can’t take this anymore, I swear to God I can’t…” That was when Alan had bent toward him, his smooth, cool lips still wet with creek water, and kissed him for the first time. Remembering, Kyle groaned, feeling as desperately horny as he had that day at the creek. Alan was nibbling lightly at his neck, the teeth grazing his skin, and Kyle leaned into it, silently pleading for more. The feel of Alan’s erection pressed hard against his own was as intoxicating now as it had been the first time they’d made love, there on the creek bed, their bodies arching against each other in a blaze of passion so blinding, so overwhelming, that half the town could have been watching them and they’d never have known. That thought tugged Kyle back to reality, and he lifted his head, staring over Alan’s broad shoulder at the blank windows of the house, outlined against the darkening sky. Alan’s lips trailed down his throat, and he swallowed, panting hoarsely, “Alan… No, wait…” Pulling back, Alan looked at him, so close to his own height that their eyes were almost level. Turning his head, he followed Kyle’s gaze. When he looked back, Kyle saw a flicker of naked pain deep in his eyes before Alan pushed it down, and nodded. “You want to go to her. I understand.” But as he started to step back, Kyle grabbed him, shaking his head. “No. No. I just…don’t want her to…”

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Alan’s eyes held him, black and unreadable. Then with a deep, ragged groan, he dragged Kyle into his arms, crushing him to his chest, his voice hoarse in Kyle’s ear as he whispered, “Then take me, damn you. One last time.” Kyle nodded, hugging him back. Taking Alan’s hand, he led him away from the door into the warm, silent darkness of the stable.

He could still remember every detail of their first, frantic embrace, there on the creek bank all those years ago. They’d been awkward, fumbling, not sure how it was supposed to go or how their bodies fit together. When Alan had first tugged at his zipper, he’d pulled it so hard it had jammed. Now, though, there was no hesitation in Alan’s movements as he unbuckled Kyle’s belt and unsnapped his jeans. His long, callused fingers brushed over the flat of Kyle’s stomach, caressing the hairs that ran in a line from just below his belly button down to his groin. Kyle sucked in a harsh breath, his cock flexing inside his jeans, rising toward that whispering touch. His fingers shook as he reached for Alan’s belt, even as Alan undid his zipper and reached inside. Heat thudded like the blaze of a furnace in Kyle’s groin as Alan’s fingers closed around his shaft. He was every bit as hard as he’d been that day, seven years ago. And he wondered again if Cassie could ever understand how, bit by bit, the need they’d felt for her had become a need for each other. How the blazing, guilty delight they’d found in each other’s rapture had slowly deepened into something more, into…

Love. The thought didn’t shock him. He’d been living with the emotion so long it had become simply one more thread in the weave of his existence, without him ever realizing it. He loved Alan, pure and simple, as much as he’d ever loved Cassie. Did he really want to give him up? Even for Cassie? Suddenly, Kyle wasn’t so sure. His arms tightened around Alan, there in the darkness, holding him close as he kissed him again and again. Alan’s hand worked up and down his shaft, teasing him till

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he felt like iron. Part of him wanted to lay Alan down in the straw, to cover him with his own body as he had with Cassie, plunging into the hot, tight embrace of Alan’s body… No. No, this time was for Alan. One last time, he repeated, echoing Alan’s words. One last time to give back a fraction of the love Alan had given him. His balls ached as he pulled back, sliding his cock from Alan’s working fingers. Already he could feel a drop of clear, warm fluid trickling down his shaft—but his own needs could wait, damn it. He sank to his knees, running his hands up the firm muscle of Alan’s thighs, doubly conscious in the darkness of the whisper of denim against his palms, the hot, hard swell of Alan’s erection through the soft fabric. Deftly, he undid Alan’s buckle and opened his pants. How many times had he done this? Kneeling before him while Alan stared down, watching from those dark, dark eyes as Kyle trailed his tongue slowly up his cock? He loved the taste of it, loved the way it jerked beneath his tongue, hardening even further as he wrapped his hand around the base of its shaft and took the thick, velvety head between his lips. Alan’s breathing was harsh in the darkness, rasping in and out of his nostrils. Kyle could see him in his mind’s eye, his hips thrust forward, the long, tapering line of his torso leaned back a bit as he stared down. He’d always loved it when Alan watched him do this, his dark brows drawn together, his gaze fixed on the sight of his own cock gliding slickly between Kyle’s lips. He loved the way Alan’s stern face relaxed, the line of his jaw softening, his eyelids drooping with lust. Kyle plunged his head forward, feeling Alan’s cock grow stiffer, thickening as it forced his jaw even wider. His own balls tightened in response, tugging heavily at the base of his groin. “Oh, Ky,” Alan murmured, his voice half a sigh, half a growl. “Oh, yeah. Harder.” Alan’s words sent a shiver of anticipation through him. Swirling his tongue around the smooth head, he lashed it over Alan’s slit. A hot, salty bead of liquid pulsed into his mouth, and Kyle lapped at it eagerly. Then he opened his mouth wide, and felt Alan’s

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hands slide to his shoulders as he pistoned his mouth down around Alan's shaft, taking it deeper. He squeezed the base of Alan’s cock as he rocked back and forth, sucking hard. Alan groaned and cupped the back of his head, pressing it toward him. He pumped his hips, ramming his cock so deep it burned the back of Kyle’s throat. He didn’t care. He wanted Alan to take him, to fuck him, to lose himself in the heat Kyle could feel building in Alan’s balls. He wanted Alan to come, flooding his mouth, his throat, until his seed spilled from Kyle’s lips and trickled down his face… What would you do, he asked himself suddenly, if Alan simply refused to let you go? That thought did shock him. And it wouldn’t happen, anyway. He understood the choice Alan was making—hell, it was the same one he himself would have made, had their situations been reversed. What surprised him was the realization that part of him—a deep, silent part he’d never acknowledged—wanted Alan to do exactly that. Moaning, Kyle sucked harder, his jaw stretched wide around Alan’s huge shaft. He curled his other hand around Alan’s sac, marveling at its tightness. He loved Alan’s balls, the weight of them, the crisp black hairs that furred them lightly. They were so distended with come they overflowed his palm, and he rubbed them, feeling Alan’s hips jerk even faster, bruising his lips, searing his throat. Alan’s fingers tightened in his hair, and he thought wildly, Yes, Alan! Take me. Fuck my mouth. Claim me, use me, I don’t care—just don’t let me go. Don’t ever let me go. But what of Cassie? What if she really had come back for him? His own erection was a steely ache against his belly, his balls pulsing with a heavy, leaden lust, and his mind whirled, remembering her softness beneath him, the way she’d clung to him, crying… With a hoarse, agonized groan, he plunged his head forward again, feeling Alan stiffen in that tight moment of ecstasy just before climax. Then Alan’s fingers clenched into fists, and his cock jabbed deep into Kyle’s mouth, hammering between his lips. Alan groaned, and Kyle felt a white-hot burst of triumph as Alan slammed his hips forward, his cock jerking and spitting.

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Wave after wave of hot, salty liquid flooded Kyle’s mouth, and he swallowed ravenously, his lips and tongue working Alan’s shaft until at last Alan slumped against him, spent and panting. After a long moment, Alan slid himself from Kyle’s mouth, and Kyle heard the soft clink of Alan’s belt buckle as he fastened his pants. Then he felt Alan’s work-hardened palm cup his cheek briefly. “Make her happy, Ky,” Alan murmured. He moved away, leaving Kyle kneeling there. For a moment, Kyle saw him outlined in the doorway, a hard, dark shape against the dark night outside. Then he was gone.

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Chapter Four

For Cassie, walking back into the house that Kyle Watson shared with Alan Caine had been one of the hardest things she’d ever done in her life. But I’m not going to run this time, damn it. Straightening her shoulders, she made herself stare around slowly, letting the reality of it sink in. It was a handsome old farmhouse. The entry was lined with pegs, from which hung an assortment of coats. Cassie touched them as she walked past, their soft mingled scents of leather and sweat both soothing and painful. This was where they lived now. Without her. She stopped at the entrance of the living room and peered in. The large leather couch was worn, the arms scuffed—she could see Kyle in her mind’s eye, his feet kicked up over one arm as he sprawled before the television. And where would Alan be? She made herself go in, wander the room. Here, she decided, resting her hand on the back of a comfortable armchair. She glanced at the shelves of books behind it—books with the edges curled, scraps of paper stuck here and there as page markers. Alan had always practically devoured his books, consuming them with the same restless curiosity which had made the slow, plodding pace of public school classes such a misery for him. Yes, he’d sit here, the floor lamp behind the chair casting a soft amber glow. She glanced down at the table beside the chair, and saw a book left open, its pages spread

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carelessly as if set down only moments before. The glasses surprised her, though—when had Alan started wearing reading glasses? She flicked on the lamp, then off again, and stepped back, forcing herself to see them both in here together, Kyle watching TV with his feet propped up, Alan sitting here, turning pages slowly, maybe with the sound of the winter wind gusting outside. A small, quiet, peaceful scene. And it didn’t include her. Turning away, she went into the kitchen. It was surprisingly modern, with stainless steel appliances and a wide marble counter so clean it shone. Kyle, she thought, smiling. She could still remember the way he’d buffed and vacuumed his first truck religiously, shit pile that it was. Oh, Alan wasn’t a slob, exactly, but there’d always been a clutter of things in his glove box—tools, mismatched work gloves, worn-out batteries—and a layer of dust and coffee rings on the dash. She opened a drawer at random, glanced down at the forks and spoons in their separate slots, surprised at how painless it was to imagine Alan rattling through them, setting the table while Kyle stirred a pot of something—stew, maybe—at the stove, passing words back and forth, about the horses or the weather or the work to be done. Little things. Little, easy, everyday things. Good. That was good. They should be happy. She wanted them to be happy. Even so, she paused at the bottom of the steps, staring up as she’d done earlier. Then, taking a deep breath, Cassie gripped the rail in one hand and started up. The first door at the top was closed. She made herself open it, and let out a relieved sigh, realizing only then that she’d been holding her breath. Inside was a single bed, its covers turned down neatly. But there was nothing on the walls, no pictures, no knickknacks on the shelf over the bed. Guest room, she thought, and closed the door. Did they even have guests? she wondered as she padded down the hallway. This wasn’t Chicago, where she’d occasionally seen two men holding hands in public. It definitely wasn’t San Francisco, where you might even see them kissing on the streets. But she’d heard nothing strange in Bea’s voice when she’d talked to Kyle, no judgment,

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no questions. They were careful, then. That was good. And it wasn’t exactly an unheardof thing for men to live alone together—not out here, where running a ranch was still a grueling fifteen-hour-a-day profession. Folks might wonder, but that was all—unless they had some reason to do more than wonder. But if the good folks of Preacher’s Bend had ever seen this room, Cassie thought as she opened the next door, they wouldn’t have to wonder. They’d know. The closet stood open, and even from the doorway Cassie could see that the tangle of boots on the floor were of two different sizes. She recognized the battered black Laredos Alan had worn in high school, resoling them again and again as the leather had worn thin. A newer pair, their sides decorated with fancy stitching, stood stiffly at attention, the tops stuffed with cardboard inserts to hold their shape. Next to them were a scuffed pair of work boots, a size and a half larger, their frayed laces trailing on the floor like snakes. She walked in slowly, her gaze fixed on the wide king-sized bed that dominated the room. The sheets were rumpled, the pillows still dented. She could picture them so easily, lying in it together, their arms looped loosely around each other as they slept. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she pressed her face into one of the pillows, inhaling the faint, musky scent of their bodies. She could handle this. She could. She wasn’t some naive twenty-one-year old anymore, some frightened virgin shocked at the idea of two men together—in fact, her virginity was something she’d rid herself of almost as quickly as she’d fled Preacher’s Bend. And if she could go back, could she really change anything? Even knowing as she now did that Kyle had wanted her, could she have chosen between them? Closing her eyes, Cassie saw Alan vault from the black mustang and stride toward her, his chest heaving, his whole body taut with a tension that had made her cunt throb in reaction. No amount of self-control could have quenched that instantaneous response. For the first time, Cassie realized that if Alan Caine had ever so much as stretched out his hand for her, she would have gone to him as unthinkingly as a bird flying south.

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And that would have broken Kyle’s heart—which would have broken her heart even worse than seeing the two of them together. Really, it was so much better that he never had. So much better that things had ended the way they had. She stood briskly, automatically smoothing the pillows. For a moment she let herself wonder what it would feel like to crawl into that massive bed, to curl up in the space between where they slept, let herself imagine them there beside her… No more of that, she told herself sternly. Straightening, she walked out of the room without a single look back and went into the bathroom. She stood by the window, unbuttoning her blouse, congratulating herself on how well she was managing all this, how mature her responses were. And about time, too. She shucked her rumpled jeans then looked out the window, admiring the sunset as she unsnapped her bra. The sky, faded to a soft, dusky purple, was streaked here and there by bands of crimson. Far in the distance the mountains, their tips still touched with the last fading rays of daylight, reared against the horizon. Then a flicker of movement caught her eye, and she glanced down at the stable, seeing Kyle and Alan framed perfectly in the open door. Their long bodies were pressed together, their hands moving over each other avidly. Their mouths were locked together in a kiss so hard, so demanding, it made her nipples ache just watching. A sharp, jagged pain splintered through her chest, and her eyes suddenly swam with tears. Oh God. Oh God, just don’t look! But she couldn’t tear her gaze away. Alan slid his mouth downward, licking and nibbling at the smooth, exposed skin of Kyle’s neck, and Kyle dropped his head back, his face flushed with arousal, his hips working against Alan’s. Cassie moaned, a welter of memories pounding through her: the feel of Kyle’s strong, hard body over her, in her; the sight of his mouth, closed around Alan’s cock; the way Alan had gasped as he dug his hands in Kyle’s hair… Stop it! Stop watching! She couldn’t.

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Then Kyle looked up, scanning the front of the house, and Cassie ducked behind the edge of the window. Her heart hammered in her chest, and her breath came in short, gasping sobs—but she had to know, she had to. Gritting her teeth, she peered out the window—and saw Kyle take Alan’s hand and lead him back into the stable. Cassie’s knees gave way beneath her, and she slumped to the cold tile floor, shaking, unable to control the sobs that ripped from her throat. Oh yeah, Cassie. You’re handling this. You’re handling it just fine.

This was wrong, damn it. It was all completely wrong. Kyle sat on the floor of the stable, surrounded by small, peaceful noises—the clop of a horse hoof, the swish of a tail. But inside him a silent battle was raging. He could remember believing with all the innocence of childhood that it was truly that simple, once. Cassie would choose Alan, or she would choose him, and the other (brokenhearted, of course) would nobly cede the field without a murmur. He could even remember his boyhood fantasies in which he was the loser, watching lone and selfsufficient as Alan and Cassie walked off together hand in hand while he, silently virtuous, turned his pale horse and rode off into the sunset, with an ache in his heart, maybe, but with the knowledge that he’d done the right thing. He’d be the lone cowboy, eternally riding his range, thinking from time to time around the campfire of the girl he’d left behind. They weren’t as good as the fantasies in which he’d been the one to win her, but they were still good dreams…and wasn’t that exactly what Alan had just done? Walked off into the darkness to give him his chance at a life with Cassie? Wasn’t that what he’d always wanted? Kyle squeezed his throbbing temples, trying to reason it through. He couldn’t. His head pounded. His groin still ached with unrelieved pressure. And all he could see was Alan walking out of the stable, his back stiff with an agony Kyle knew he would never, ever let show.

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It wasn’t fair, damn it! He wanted Cassie, Kyle admitted to himself—wanted her as badly as he had all the days of his life. But the thought of Alan, grim and silent, standing cold and alone in the Idaho night… He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t. Shaking his head, Kyle pushed himself to his feet. Just then, outside, he heard the muted slam of the truck door closing and the roar of the engine as Alan turned it over. Oh, shit. “Alan!” Yanking his belt closed, Kyle ran for the door. A grudging sliver of moon hung like a sickle high in the east, casting more shadows than it dispelled. Headlights swung across the darkened dooryard, illuminating the faded rust-colored sides of the stables. The corral fences stood out sharply for a moment like skeletons, then disappeared again. “Alan!” Kyle shouted again, sprinting across the dirt, waving his arms, angling toward the truck as it pulled away from the house and started down the drive toward him. “Alan, wait!” It was going too fast. He wouldn’t be able to catch it. He could see Alan behind the wheel, his cold gaze fixed straight ahead. Did Alan not see him? Or did he not want to see him? Kyle didn’t know—and he didn’t care, either. Putting on a burst of speed, he dashed in front of the truck, hearing the squeal of brakes, followed by Alan’s furious cursing. He clung to the door handle as Alan unrolled the window, already yelling at him. “What the fuck, Ky? You almost got yourself killed!” Alan’s face was as pale as the moonlight, and filled with fury. Kyle ignored it. Something had occurred to him as he ran, something that had blazed across his mind like a comet, bright and searing. “Okay,” he said, still trying to catch his breath. “Okay, so maybe she did take that ring off for me. Maybe so. But Alan…” Kyle stared up at him, panting. “Alan, who did she put it back on for?” “I don’t know what in hell you’re talking about—”

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“Don’t you? If she didn’t want me to know, why did she want to make sure you saw it?” A startled light came into Alan’s eyes, and Kyle nodded slowly. He was still amazed it had been he who’d seen it first, not Alan. Maybe because he didn’t want to, he thought suddenly. Which made sense. Alan had always been like that—very guarded, very self-contained. It was his way, somehow—the same way he’d never cried after Cassie had left. The same way he’d never talk about his dreams, his desires… Remembering his boyhood fantasies, Kyle had to admit that Alan made a much more convincing lone ranger. It was a role, he realized in a flash of insight, Alan had been practicing for all his life. Softly he asked, “Do I have to spell it out for you?” Alan’s eyes narrowed to slits, and he slammed the gearshift into park. “Go ahead.” His gaze searched the darkness ahead, his face stony. And if I ever needed proof how stubborn Alan Caine can be, Kyle thought wryly, looking at that hard, chiseled profile, here it is. “Because you scare her, Alan. You scare the bejesus out of her.” The startled look came back into Alan’s eyes. Only this time it was different. This time there was a hunger beneath it, a hunger Kyle recognized as clearly as if he were looking into a mirror. And there was something else there, too. Something that looked to Kyle an awful lot like hope. It was amazing, the change it made in Alan’s stern face. Suddenly, for the first time in years, the grimness was gone, and you could see what an incredibly handsome man Alan Caine really was. The thin moonlight fell across the planes and angles of his face, making him look… Like a knight, Kyle thought, staring at him. He swallowed, feeling his cock pulse, his half-faded erection springing back to life. Like one of those knights carved out of marble. Oh, Cassie, if you could see him right now… If she saw Alan now, with that look on his face, Kyle had a sneaking suspicion he’d be forgotten altogether. At least for a while. And that was all right—he could live with

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that. He could live with it because he knew, no matter what burned between those two— and it was both brighter and more complex than what lay between Cassie and himself, he admitted—there would always be room in their hearts for him. “Sure, she loves me,” Kyle murmured. “I always knew that. We were always easy around each other. But you—you’re a hard man to love, Al.” Alan snorted at that, and Kyle grinned. “Don’t even waste your breath denying it. But I’ll tell you this. I don’t think it was me who broke her heart that night at Big Blue’s.” Kyle saw his words hit home. Alan swallowed twice, then looked down at his hands, still clenched on the steering wheel. “Come on, partner. We’ve wasted enough time already.” Kyle opened the truck door. Alan glanced at him, startled. He uncurled his fingers and slid his long, angular frame from behind the wheel. He stood looking up at the house, and the naked longing in his gaze was a wonder to see. Grinning, Kyle turned away, taking two jaunty strides toward the house before Alan grabbed his arm. “Wait.” “Wait? Christ, we’ve waited three years already!” “Yes, and I’m not waiting another three,” Alan muttered absently, staring at the house. “Where’s the lights?” “What?” “Why aren’t any of the lights on?” They stared at each other, and Kyle was reminded forcibly of that day at the creek, the way they’d crouched in the water, their groins on fire, their gazes dark with shared understanding. He swallowed, thinking of how they’d stood in the doorway of the stable, kissing—just as stupidly, as carelessly, as they’d necked in the pool hall parking lot the night they’d driven Cassie away. “No. No, she’s in there. She wouldn’t have…wouldn’t have…” Alan’s eyes were like two black pits, deep and haunted. Then they were running, both of them, pounding up the porch steps and into the dark house.

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“Cass? Cassie!” Cursing himself, Alan sprinted up the staircase, taking the steps three at a time. Christ, Al! Just what in hell were you thinking? He hadn’t been—that was the problem. He’d seen the flush on Cassie’s cheeks, the guilty way Kyle’s gaze had slid away…and he’d known. Known as clearly as if he’d watched it all happen. It was ironic, in a way. Sometimes he felt he’d spent his entire life bracing himself against the moment when Cassie would finally reach for Kyle, as surely she must (he’d watched them together, Cassie smiling merrily up at Kyle—handsome, easygoing Kyle— for too long to doubt it). Yet when the moment had finally come, Alan had to admit all his preparation had been in vain. And when he’d spotted the ring on Cassie’s finger, all he’d been able to see was red. The idea that Kyle could have done that, could have slept with her even though she was engaged… Alan shook his head absently as he reached the top step. No, he really hadn’t been thinking. Kyle would never have done that. He was too good, too honest, too fundamentally decent. It was a quality that, for the first time in his life, Alan was beginning to doubt in himself. That kiss out in the stable—what had that been about? Had he honestly managed to forget that you could see the stable perfectly from the house? Was he really so selfish that he’d purposefully kissed Kyle where Cassie could see? He’d always known this day was coming—and he’d never intended to do anything other than step back and take what pleasure he could in seeing the two people he loved most happy together. So how, then, could he have done something so stupid? The questions tumbled through his mind as he yanked open the door to the guest room. Cassie wasn’t there. The narrow single bed was unrumpled, the closet empty. Quickly, he strode to the room he shared with Kyle and threw open the door.

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She wasn’t there, either—but the sight of their oversized bed made Alan pause. He could still remember lying there, the first year after Cassie had left, feeling his own heart ache with the grief he could hear in Kyle’s sobs. They’d shared so much, the two of them. They’d built a business together, a home, a life. It had always been a life lived partly in suspension, both of them waiting in some small, hidden cranny of themselves for Cassie to come back—but it had been a life. It was a lot to give up, that was all. He’d been determined to do it, for Cassie and for Kyle, but it was a lot to give up. And he just hadn’t wanted to let go of it quite yet. It was as simple—as human—as that. A furtive sense of relief crept through him, and he strode briskly to the bathroom and rapped on the door. “Cass? Cass, you in there?” Despite Kyle’s insistence, he still found it almost impossible to believe that Cassie could want him. What girl in her right mind would choose him when she could have Kyle instead? But she hadn’t, Alan realized. She’d never chosen either of them. For the first time it occurred to him to wonder why, if she’d wanted Kyle so much—and she had; Alan had no doubts on that score—she hadn’t simply claimed him years ago. What had been stopping her? Kyle pounded up the stairs behind him, and one glance at his pale, worried face told Alan she wasn’t anywhere downstairs. He reached for the doorknob, then rattled it. It was locked. “Cassie!” Stepping back, he kicked at the door, sending splinters of wood flying from the frame. He stepped into the bathroom, flicked on the lights…and froze at the sight of Cassie huddled on the floor in nothing but her panties, shaking uncontrollably, her eyes staring blindly at nothing. Oh, hell. He stood still as a statue as Kyle pushed past him to kneel at Cassie’s side, yanking his sheepskin coat off at the same time and draping it over her bare shoulders. “Cassie? Cass, honey, talk to me!”

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But when at last she raised her head, it was Alan she looked at, Alan her haunted gaze sought—and in one single, bright burst he understood everything: why she’d put her ring on; why she’d never reached out for Kyle… She did love Kyle. She did. But she loved him, too. Closing his eyes, Alan swallowed against the sting of tears, seeing Cassie in his mind’s eye, always between them, laughing up at Kyle as he joked with her—and then turning to him, her eyes warm and gleaming, including him even when he stayed cold and silent. Cassie flinging her arms around Kyle’s neck—and then coming to stand close beside him, glancing sidelong at him shyly as she nudged him with her shoulder. More, he caught a quick, terrifying glimpse of her own determination, her own loneliness—how badly she must have wanted them! But they lived in a world where one man wanting another was still condemned, if not unheard of—how much harder would that world have been on Cassie for loving them both? He and Kyle had at least had each other. All these years, Cassie had been completely alone. Alan felt a wave of self-loathing so deep he could barely breathe. How could he have been so blind? Why hadn’t he seen it all years ago? But Cassie was still watching him, her mute, poignant gaze fixed on his face, and there was no time right now for guilt or regrets. Shoving his emotions aside, he knelt by her and touched her arm. Her skin was like ice, her shadowed gaze dazedly following his every movement. “She’s so cold, Al.” Alan nodded brusquely, feeling her forehead, then the pulse in her neck. “She’s in shock. Start the tub. We’ve got to get her warm.” While Kyle opened the taps, Alan slid his arms under Cassie’s thighs and around her back. “All right, Cass. Up you come.” He stood, lifting her easily—she was so thin. When had she gotten so thin? But her arms shifted, wrapping weakly around his neck, and Alan took a deep, shuddering breath, feeling relief wash through him. When he’d

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first seen her, he’d been terrified that she’d gone too deep inside herself for them to pull her back. But she was all right. She was going to be all right. If they could just get her warm. The water steamed as it splashed into the tub. “Not that hot,” Alan murmured, and Kyle moderated the temperature. When the tub was half full, Alan felt the water carefully and then lowered Cassie into it. She gave a small, wordless cry of protest as her arms slid from around his neck. Taking her hand gently, he leaned forward and kissed her forehead. “It’s all right, Cass. I’m not going anywhere.” He raised his head, meeting Kyle’s intent, worried eyes. “We’re not going anywhere.” She huddled in the water, still shivering, and Alan saw the muscles in her face unclench, as she let one single tear roll down her pale cheek. That was all right. It was a damn sight better than the frozen panic in her eyes when they’d first entered. He reached for the washcloth, then stopped abruptly, gazing down at the full, round curves of her breasts, the little pink nubs at their tips poking just out of the water. Her white panties, which he hadn’t bothered to strip off her, had gone nearly translucent as the water soaked them, and he could see the swell of her mons beneath them, the soft ashbrown curls trapped beneath the fabric. His cock was thickening inside his jeans, and Alan realized his hands were shaking. Roughly, he thrust the washcloth at Kyle. “You do it.” “Where are you going?” “To get her something to eat. She’s too thin.” Alan paused at the door, looking back. There were shadows beneath her eyes, and her hair, wet and stringy, straggled down around her wan face. But she was beautiful. She was so beautiful… He swallowed, feeling his groin throb with urgency, his cock straining to stand straight inside his pants. Down, boy, he told himself sharply. It didn’t help. He closed the door behind him and leaned against it a moment, struggling to moderate the furnace-like heat in his balls.

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It was hopeless. Oh sure, he’d seen naked women before. God knew Kyle and he had watched enough porn flicks together over the years. But the sight of Cassie, Cassie, naked before him, water pooling in the delectable cleft between her breasts, had practically been enough to make him come in his pants. Patience, Iago, he thought, and chuckled ruefully. Thank God she wanted both of them, because right now he felt ready to tear Kyle limb from limb just for one single taste of the sweet nectar between her thighs. But she did want both of them. At once? The thought whispered in his mind, and Alan froze as the implications hit him, feeling the fire inside him redouble as images unfolded in his imagination, images of Cassie between them, beneath them, reaching out for both of them at once… His throat made a small, dry clicking sound as he swallowed again. Taking a deep breath, Alan forced his eyes to focus, steeled himself to endure the ache in his crotch and went downstairs to find Cassie something to eat.

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Chapter Five

Cassie huddled in the tub, her knees drawn up against her chest, staring blindly at the engagement ring on her finger as Kyle washed her back. God, what must he think of her? She’d made love with him, wantonly, practically forcing him to fuck her—and she’d been engaged the whole time. She hadn’t even had the decency to tell him. And you know why, she thought grimly. Because he wouldn’t have done it. He would have stopped if he’d known. Tears ran down her cheeks, as warm as the bath water. Selfish! Selfish! her mind screamed, and she had no defense against it. She’d gotten involved with Richard—had almost married him—because her exhausted heart had been so full of grief and pain she’d honestly thought she couldn’t bear it one second longer. And the fact that he was a perfectly decent man only made it worse. He deserves better, she thought, knowing it was true. He deserves someone who loves him. The sparkling diamond doubled, then trebled, then split into a hundred gleaming prisms in her tear-washed sight. Its size no longer struck her as ostentatious, but rather as a measurement of the enormity of her sins. She folded her right hand over her left, hiding it, and the stone dug into her palm like a guilty secret. Her throat clenched and she bit her lip, trying to contain her sobs. But her shoulders shook, betraying her, and Kyle’s hand paused on her back. www.samhainpublishing.com

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“Cass?” His voice, so deep, so gentle, shattered her self-restraint. For the second time in one day, Kyle pulled her into his arms, heedless of her wet hair soaking his shirt or the water sloshing onto the floor, holding her while she cried. “I…I don’t love him, Ky. I never did. I was just…just…” “You were just lonely,” he murmured, his lips brushing her hair. “I know.” “I hurt him. I hurt him, and he doesn’t even know. I…” She trailed off, gulping against her tears, and felt Kyle’s body stiffen slightly, a subtle tension running through his limbs. “Are you still going to marry him?” She shook her head wordlessly. Then she mumbled against his chest, “He deserves better than me.” “Don’t you say that!” The sternness in Kyle’s tone made her flinch. Grabbing her shoulders, he forced her to look up at him. His silver-blue eyes stared into hers intently. “Don’t you say that. We all make mistakes. We all do things we… Ah, Christ!” He broke off in frustration, his gaze searching the tiled corners as if hunting for guidance. Letting her go, he sat on the rim on the tub and took off his hat, running his hands distractedly through his short, wavy hair. “Cass, don’t you know the only reason Alan and I ever turned to each other was because we both wanted you so much?” What? She stared at him, the tears shocked right out of her. He looked at her, his eyes so full of grief and guilt and yearning that she could only stare dumbly. Don’t you know the only reason Alan and I… The blood drained from her face, but at the same time she could feel two small spots blazing high on her cheekbones. The only reason Alan and I… Alan had kissed her forehead, she remembered. Even as cold and out of it as she’d been, she’d felt him do that—but it didn’t mean anything, surely? He’d only been taking

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care of her, the way he and Kyle had always taken care of her, ever since she could remember. Alan and I… Darkness seemed to bloom around her, and she shut her eyes, her head whirling. Behind her eyelids she saw again the sharp planes and angles of Alan’s face at twentyone, his voice hoarse with need as he whispered, Please, Ky. I can’t wait any longer. Not even for an instant had she guessed he might be talking about her. Cassie’s mind reeled, recalling how she’d masturbated in the ladies’ room at Big Blue’s, so horny all it had taken was one good, firm stroke to send her over the edge… She hadn’t been able to wait either. She could feel Kyle by her right shoulder, a constant, sturdy presence. She had no trouble understanding how Alan had leaned on that sweet, generous nature, taking solace in it as she herself had. The bathroom door opened and Alan came in, stopping short in his tracks as he looked up from the tray he was carrying and met her gaze. To Cassie, it was as if everything around them had disappeared, leaving them together in some timeless, airless void, tethered together by that one single look. For the first time, she noticed the tiny lines around Alan’s eyes, the few strands of silver in his raven black hair. He had waited for her. They both had. And they’d waited quite long enough. A damp, secret warmth unfolded deep inside her. “Take me to bed,” she commanded, her voice husky with desire. “Take me to bed, both of you. Now.” The tray crashed to the floor. With a harsh, ragged groan, Alan stumbled to his knees and lifted her from the tub.

Kyle fetched a quilt from the bedroom and wrapped her in it after toweling her dry. His eyes kept meeting hers shyly as he peeled off her wet panties, and he patted her ass cheeks playfully with the towel, making her laugh. Then he wrapped her in the quilt and

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stepped back, letting Alan, who’d watched all this stolidly, scoop her up to carry her to the bedroom. Cassie let her head drop against Alan’s shoulder, enjoying the feel of his strong arms around her. It reminded her of the way Kyle had held her when she’d gotten hysterical— had it really been only that afternoon? But unlike with Kyle, Cassie could tell fighting Alan would be useless, even if she was inclined to try. Something in the way he held her told her unmistakably that he was never going to let her go. She sighed contentedly, letting herself trace idle circles on his chest—he’d shed his sodden shirt as Kyle had dried her—and enjoying the anticipatory heat in her cunt. Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined having both of them at once. Oh, she’d fantasized about them separately as a girl, kissing first one, then the other, in the sweaty darkness of her single bed. Later, she’d even imagined them making love without her, the picture sliding into her unwilling brain with a regularity which had horrified her even as it made her clit throb with longing. But this? Never. God, even my fantasies are prudes, she thought, and giggled. Alan looked down at her, a small smile curving his lips. “What’s so funny?” “Nothing. It doesn’t matter.” He glanced over his shoulder at Kyle, shrugged and opened the bedroom door. Cassie had to stifle another giggle as he carried her to the bed—Kyle had obviously done more while he was in here than simply fetch a quilt. The closet door had been kicked shut. A tangle of clothes that had lain atop a dresser was conspicuous by its sudden absence. And the sheets were now miraculously wrinkle-free, turned down neatly below freshly plumped pillows. Oh God. She watched the hard, lean muscles in Alan’s shoulders flex as he set her down. Behind him, Kyle stood, his Adam’s apple bobbing nervously. She was nervous herself—how did one go about making love to two men at once?—but the heat in their eyes entranced her. She remembered how powerless she’d felt as a girl, biting her lip as

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she struggled to hide the arousal aching through her developing body, always convinced it was only she who felt this way, only she who wanted them… Now, the hunger in their eyes gave her a sense of power she’d never before experienced. Thrusting aside her own nervousness, she slid the blanket from her body and smiled lazily as their eyes widened. Alan had straightened after he’d set her down, standing at the side of the bed by her hip, while Kyle had stopped in the middle of the room, his hat clasped in his hands. He was fidgeting with it, bending the brim this way and that, his gaze flicking to her naked body, then rapidly away. She laughed. “If you don’t stop that, you’re going to ruin it.” Kyle looked down, startled, and Cassie laughed again. Grinning, he tossed it onto the dresser as if to say, Now what? Cassie looked up at Alan. Unlike Kyle, he was staring at her fixedly, drinking in the sight of her curves. She could see the ridge of his erection inside his jeans and reached toward it wonderingly, rubbing her hand across it. His breathing deepened, and his eyelids drooped. She caressed the hard bulge, trying to picture it—would it be as thick as Kyle’s? As long? Longer? Her nipples tightened at the thought. Kyle watched her now, his gaze pinned to the motion of her hand. She trailed her fingers over the heavy leather of Alan’s belt, placing her palm flat against the taut, warm plane of his belly. There was a whorl of soft black curls just below his belly button, and she toyed with them, enjoying the way his entire body quivered under that small touch. Then she reached up with her other hand, undoing the buckle of his belt. “Jesus,” Kyle whispered, and she glanced over at him. He was panting, his eyes as huge as marbles. Cassie smiled. “Take off your shirt.” His fingers shook as he undid the buttons and pulled it off, then peeled off the T-shirt underneath. Cassie ran her fingers lightly over Alan’s bulge as she watched. “Now everything else.”

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With a quick glance at Alan, Kyle sat on the edge of the bed. Cassie reached down with her foot, caressing his back as he did so, feeling the heat inside her coil up another notch. God! When did Kyle get so big? He’d always been tall, shooting up like a sprout months before Alan had started getting his growth. There’s been a full year where he’d towered over both of them. Now his body had filled out, gaining a solid layer of muscle. His back was broad, the twin columns of muscle along the spine standing out clearly, and his deltoids flexed as he yanked off first one boot, then the other, and stood facing away from her as he unbuckled his jeans. When he pushed them down, Cassie confirmed what she’d suspected that afternoon—Kyle liked going commando. His ass, taut and round, flashed her as he pushed his jeans down, and she caught a glimpse of his balls. Jesus. He turned around, grinning bashfully, and saliva flooded Cassie’s mouth as she stared at the thick, blunt shaft of his erection, standing proudly out before him. Oh my God, I had that inside me? She felt curiously light-headed, her cunt aching but the rest of her feeling almost made of air. Finally she realized she was nearly hyperventilating, and made herself breathe more deeply. “Now touch it,” she said, feeling a small cat smile curve her lips. “I want to watch.” Kyle’s gaze flicked uncertainly to Alan, who chuckled. “Better do as the little lady says, partner.” “You, too,” Cassie shot at him, and his chuckle stopped abruptly. “Show it to me, Alan.” Holding her gaze, he reached down and unbuttoned his jeans. Without sitting, he kicked off his boots, then shoved his jeans down over his hips. His cock sprang upward immediately, hard and slightly curved, so long it brushed his belly button. Beneath it, his balls hung, taut and full. Reaching up, Cassie stroked them and felt them pulse under her fingertips.

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Kyle had his hand wrapped around his shaft, tugging it. His gaze was glued to her crotch and Cassie mischievously spread her thighs, running her hands down over her hips and over her mons, parting the furred outer lips of her cunt. He stared at that small pink slit, breathing heavily through his nostrils, his fist moving faster over his cock. She was so horny herself it’d take almost nothing to make her come. She writhed on the bed, forcing her fingers away from her throbbing clit. Not yet, she told herself fiercely. Not yet. But oh, it was hard to wait! Judging by the way he stared at her tits, Alan was totally entranced with her breasts. He couldn’t take his eyes off them as his fist slid up and down that incredible erection. The head was almost plum-shaped, round and bulbous, and he slid the fingers of his free hand over it, spreading the juices that spilled from its slit over it till it gleamed. Playfully, Cassie slid her hands up her ribcage and cupped her full breasts, watching Alan’s lips part as she did. His tongue darted out quickly, licking his dry lips. “Do you want these, Alan? Do you want to taste them?” With a groan, he sank to his knees, one hand braced on the mattress as he leaned over the bed and seized one nubbly pink nipple in his mouth. Cassie mewled like a cat, small cries of pleasure spilling from her throat as he sucked hungrily at first one breast, then the other. Turning her head, she watched his fist raking up and down his shaft, the tip of it brushing against the bed with each stroke. Kyle had moved closer, standing now at the foot of the bed, his gaze flicking back and forth between Alan sucking her breasts and the gleaming wetness she could feel trickling down between her folds. Suddenly, she couldn’t wait any longer. Her blood roared in her ears, her cunt pounded with her incipient orgasm. Panting, she looked at Kyle. “Come here. Up on the bed. Kneel beside me. You too, Alan.” Forcing his hand to release his cock, Kyle knelt on her right side as Alan clambered onto the bed on her left. Reaching up, she led their hands to their shafts. “Now watch me. Both of you. I want you to come on me.”

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At her words, Alan groaned, his fist tightening around his cock. Kyle’s face was flushed, his cock so hard it looked almost purple. He touched it lightly, and Cassie knew he was so close to coming he didn’t dare rub it harder. She stared, fascinated by the two erections jutting over her torso, and slid one hand to her cunt. Another idea occurred to her. “Rub them together. Rub the tips together.” She watched, feeling her eyes go huge as they leaned closer together, bracing themselves with one hand on each other’s shoulder. Their heads were bent, practically touching, as they looked down at their cocks and her body beneath. With their hands clamped around their shafts, they rubbed their cockheads together, and Cassie moaned as she saw a clear, shiny drop of precome dribble from Kyle’s slit. Their cockheads danced against each other, circling, gliding slickly on the juices spilling from them. Their slits gaped as their cocks hardened even further, and she could see their balls, full and taut, drawing up against their groins. The heat inside her was like a brushfire, searing along her skin. Her nipples ached, and she seized one fiercely, tugging it as she stroked her clit. Kyle panted harshly, watching her twist and pinch her nipple till it burned, and small bolts of pleasure shot straight through her belly to her womb. “Oh God,” Alan rasped, equally enraptured by the sight of her. “Oh God, Cass, I want to come on your tits. Let me come on your tits.” Unable to speak, she nodded, and Alan tossed his head, shaking back his long, shaggy black hair. Reaching down, he cupped one soft round breast in one hand, squeezing it as with the other he tilted his straining shaft down until the tip brushed her nipple. Jesus, she’d never felt anything like it. Never imagined anything like it. The two of them looming over her, fists raking over their cocks, her body blazing beneath them, so aroused she felt practically incandescent. She slid both hands to her cunt, working one finger inside her as she whispered hoarsely to Kyle, “You, too. Do that, too.” She moaned as they positioned themselves, spreading their knees wider till their balls practically brushed the bed, and slid their cocks over her breasts, their long, hot shafts

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rubbing back and forth across her nipples. Groaning, they started stroking themselves in earnest, their fists tightening, yanking themselves more roughly than Cassie would ever have dared. She pushed one finger deep inside herself, pistoning it back and forth as she rubbed her clit in tight little circles, watching those two huge, gorgeous cocks thrust against her breasts. Their balls dangled, swelling even more, and Cassie stared at the sweet, shiny curves of their cockheads, the slits gaping with each stroke of their fists. Alan groaned, his harsh cries rumbling deep in his chest, and Cassie looked up at him, clinging tight to the ecstasy curling through her body, frantically trying to hold it back as Alan arched, his cock jerking against her breast. Creamy fluid spurted from its tip, coating her breasts and spattering over Kyle’s cock. Kyle gasped sharply, his fist clenching tight, his abs rippling as he panted and cried out, the cords standing out in his neck. His come splashed across her, hot and thick, and Cassie’s orgasm lanced through her, sharp as a thunderbolt. She writhed on the bed, her breasts pushed up against their cocks. She could feel those thick, gorgeous shafts throbbing and pulsing, shooting their seed on her while she moaned in ecstasy.

She lay in a daze, not quite asleep. She could remember hearing low, rumbling murmurs and feeling the mattress shift beneath her, but now what roused her was a pleasant ache in her breasts as someone caressed them. She opened her eyes to see Alan stretched beside her, his strong, agile fingers gliding slickly on the come coating her skin as he kneaded her breasts. He smiled, seeing her eyes open, and nodded at what he was doing. “That feel good?” “Mmmm,” she replied, tilting her ribcage to press her breasts harder against his hands. He drew his fingers together, tugging her nipples, then rolling them until they stood proudly, the dark areolas contracted into small, furrowed nubs. “That’s so amazing,” Alan murmured. “God, I love your tits.” “Breasts,” she chuckled. “Not tits, breasts.” “If you were a cow we’d call them udders. Either way, they’re incredible.”

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“Alan Caine,” Cassie said, raising her head on the pillow, “are you trying to tell me you’ve never even felt a girl’s breasts before?” “Not unless my mother’s count—and I don’t remember that.” Then he looked at her, his dark eyes full of a warmth that made her heart want to fly straight from her chest like a bird. “I never wanted anyone else, Cass. Neither did Kyle. That’s why we…” He broke off abruptly, looking away. “If you’re going to blame anyone for that, blame me.” Cassie shook her head. Then she reached out, cupping his hard chin and turning it toward her, and shook her head again. “No. I don’t blame you. I… If you want to know the truth, it was the most erotic thing I’d ever seen.” His eyes widened at that, and she smiled. “That’s part of why it scared me so bad. That’s why I… Oh, hell.” She stared at the ring glittering on her finger. Rolling her eyes, she yanked at it. Lubricated by Alan’s and Kyle’s mingled juices, it slid off easily. “Have you got a box or something?” “Sure.” Rising, Alan rattled around in the drawer of a dresser, and Cassie lay back, simply enjoying the sight of his body. He was leaner than Kyle, his muscles harder, his pecs standing out sharply above his ribcage. He moved with a cat-like grace, something he’d had even as a boy. Kyle had played football, but Alan, lighter, quicker, had been a whiz at baseball, basketball, anything requiring speed and grace. Finally he turned up an old matchbox and handed it to her. Jerking his head at it as she put the ring into it, he asked, “Should I feel bad about that?” “About Richard? No.” She sighed. “At least I hope not. Richard’s…” She paused, trying to think how to put it. “Richard’s a very goal-oriented kind of guy. He gets what he wants in life. I just happened to meet him when marriage was the next thing on his agenda, I think. He’ll still get married.” She set the box on the bedstand. “I’ll send it back to him tomorrow.” “And what about you?” She glanced at him, puzzled. “What do you mean?” “I mean we can’t both marry you.” Alan chuckled ruefully. “Even in Preacher’s Bend the preachers don’t bend that far. And, well…how do you feel about that?”

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She looked at him steadily. “You know how I feel, Alan.” Something in his expression changed, and a deep, poignant vulnerability suffused his features. “I’ll marry you. In a heartbeat. Or Kyle. All you have to do is say the word.” Cassie’s heart swelled painfully inside her chest, both aching and so filled with joy she was sure something would burst. If it had been Kyle before her, she would have thrown her arms around his neck—but this was Alan. Alan, who’d barely said a word to her when she arrived. Alan, who’d called her breasts tits, for God’s sake. Alan, who made her knees tremble and her breath go short in a way no other man on earth could. So instead she said nothing. She merely smiled. Alan’s eyes grew smoky, a small, answering smile curving his lips—and immediately Cassie felt an echo of what she’d felt earlier, watching him leap from the mustang and come toward her. The sensation was both frightening and arousing, like being trapped under the gaze of some sensuous, dangerous animal. She swallowed against the sudden dryness in her throat and looked around quickly. “Where is Kyle, anyway?” “Getting you something to eat. Hopefully he’ll have better luck than I did,” Alan murmured as he slid back onto the bed, rolling over to take her in his arms and lower his mouth over hers. His tongue, warm and demanding, pressed between her teeth, spreading her lips wide to delve between them. Cassie gasped, amazed to find her womb contracting hungrily already, and Alan pulled back to look down at her, his eyes dark and intent. He was going to take her, they seemed to say—right now. And she would, by God, enjoy it. I reckon you’re right, too, she thought faintly as he kissed her again, exploring her mouth with a thoroughness that left her panting. Her nipples were hard, aching nubs pressed against his chest, and he toyed with one lazily, tugging it, rolling it between his fingers—then he twisted it sharply, just hard enough to sting, and grinned as she moaned and arched against him.

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She could feel his cock, already erect, jabbing against her thigh, and remembered how her eyes had widened at the sight of its prodigious length. God, what would it feel like inside her? She was about to find out, she knew. Anticipation spiraled through her, drawing tighter as Alan’s fingers tugged at her nipples, his tongue thrusting deep into her mouth. She hung in his arms, gasping, as he finally released her lips. Holding her gaze, he growled, “There’ll be times when you get to order me around. I kinda liked that, actually. But make no mistake, there’ll be times I just take you. Any way I like. Are we clear on that?” “Uh-huh,” she panted, barely able to speak. “Just so’s we understand each other.” He grinned and, rolling her over, slapped her rump sharply. She squealed as a bolt of sensation shot through her. “Now get on your knees on the end of the bed, facing the door.” Cassie scrambled onto all fours, her hands gripping the edge of the mattress, and felt Alan move to kneel behind her. Out in the hallway, she could hear the soft tread of Kyle’s bare feet. “He’s coming,” she whispered frantically. Alan chuckled in response. “I know.” Then she felt his hard, curving cockhead press against her slit, and gasped aloud. Her cheeks flamed—why should the idea of Kyle walking in on them like this embarrass her? She didn’t know, but it did. And worse, the embarrassment only made her more keenly aware of her throbbing clit, her aching nipples… “Higher,” Alan ordered, and slapped her ass again. With a small yelp of mingled pain and arousal, she thrust her ass toward him, angling it so that her cunt was fully exposed—or so she thought. She was wrong. Alan’s hands slid down around her hips, lifting her bodily from the bed as he shoved her thighs wide apart, so wide she was almost splayed out before him, her cunt gaping. “That’s better,” he murmured, his voice thick with lust. “Now pull your shoulders back, Cass, and push those gorgeous tits out.”

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Her cheeks burning, Cassie complied, lifting her breasts just as the door opened and Kyle entered. He stopped short, his eyes widening, the tray he was carrying tilting perilously in his grip. Then Alan thrust into her, fast and hard, piercing her so deep she cried out in shock. The tray nearly tumbled from Kyle’s hands, but he managed to catch it and fumble it onto a bureau before dropping it altogether. “Oh, Jesus, Alan,” he whispered, his voice sounding like he had a throat full of gravel. “Oh Jesus, if you could see her…” He trailed off, and Cassie only registered the fact that he was still naked when she saw his cock jerk stiffly to attention. He reached down beneath it, squeezing his balls in one hand. “God, Al. Fuck her. Fuck her hard.” Cassie moaned, feeling her cunt clench. She heard Alan chuckle again. “You think she wants it?” Kyle nodded, his silver-blue eyes intent on her face. “Oh yeah. Definitely.” He held her gaze as Alan drew back, paused a moment, and slammed into her so hard she heard his abs smack sharply against her ass. She cried aloud, pinioned on that huge cock, penetrating her so deep it almost hurt. “Do it again,” Kyle whispered, his other hand clenching his jutting rod. “Do it so hard her tits swing.” Oh my God, Cassie thought faintly. Oh my God… “I thought you were going to feed her,” Alan answered. He teased her with his shaft, pulling out and stuffing her cunt in short little strokes. She whimpered below him, thrusting her ass back hungrily, and was rewarded with another of those sharp, exciting smacks. Kyle’s eyes widened. “Christ, Al, did you just spank her?” Cassie didn’t even have to close her eyes to picture Alan’s wolfish grin. “Yep. She liked it, too. Didn’t you, Cassie?”

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Panting, flushed with arousal, Cassie lifted her head—the truth was written clear on her face. Kyle swallowed, staring at her, and Alan spanked her again. She whined hungrily. “Seriously, Ky, I think you better feed her.” Bemused, Kyle moved to the foot of the bed, his rock-hard shaft jutting only inches from her mouth. She felt Alan lean over her, seizing her hair in his hand. Yanking it backward, he tugged her head higher, and she gasped as Kyle’s fat, bulging cockhead slipped into her mouth. She’d never worn a gag in her life, but Cassie suspected it would feel just like this. Kyle’s cock filled her mouth, so thick it stretched her jaw wide. It tasted incredible, warm and meaty and salty all at once. She swallowed once, convulsively, and felt him jerk at the sudden pressure. “Now,” Alan asked, bending low over her back, “do you want me to fuck you, Cassie?” She nodded, her mouth stuffed with Kyle’s cock. “Do you want me to fuck you hard?’ She moaned at that, the sound coming from deep in her throat, and heard Kyle’s harsh, desperate groan. His fingers clenched on her shoulders as he fought for control. “Do it, Al. Oh, Christ. Do it hard.” For a moment longer, Alan left them both hanging, quivering on the edge of orgasm. Then he reared back behind her and hammered home so hard he drove her forward, her mouth slipping down around Kyle’s shaft. Kyle groaned again, and she whimpered, sucking him wantonly as Alan pounded into her. Finally, she felt Kyle’s hips shift, pressing forward gently, and she whined again, urging him on. Almost disbelievingly, he raised his hands to her head, his fingers stroking through her soft brown hair. Alan grabbed her hips tight, his shaft invading her again and again. Her head spun, full of white fire, and sheer, shimmering lust seared along her veins. There was only one more thing she wanted, one more…

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The Boys Back Home

Kyle’s hands clenched in her hair as his face knotted with need, and he rammed his hips forward, shoving his cock deep into her mouth. In tandem, they thrust into her, hammering into her hot, aching flesh. Her lips were stretched tight around Kyle’s engorged thickness, her cunt speared over and over by Alan’s hard length. She hung between them, quivering, sensing their gathering orgasms in their building frenzy. Christ, nobody had ever fucked her like this, so hard she could feel her breasts swinging freely, brushing Kyle’s hard, hairy thighs with every rough stroke. His fingers tightened further, tugging—no, yanking her forward as he savaged her mouth, making her jaw ache with his thrusts. Had she ever believed they didn’t want her? They wanted her so badly they were beyond all control, taking her with a fury that made her reel with desire. Sliding one hand down between her thighs, Alan found her clit. She cried aloud as he rubbed it, the sound muffled by Kyle’s shaft. It jerked in her mouth and she heard Kyle groan and braced herself as his strokes grew even faster. Pinned between them, she felt her own climax building, looming inside her like a cresting tidal wave, so huge it frightened her. What would it feel like? What would it do to her? Part of her wanted to pull back, pull away, but the two men above her were trapped in their own searing, desperate need. They held her roughly, hands grasping, cocks ramming deep, deeper, deeper still… Then Kyle cried out, his voice as harsh as a hawk’s as his cream flooded her mouth. It was hot, salty, intoxicating, and she swallowed eagerly, lashing his head with her tongue. Alan roared, his hips slamming her ass, and his finger mashed her clit until she screamed against Kyle’s groin, her whole body quaking as her cunt gripped that huge, hard, hammering shaft, squeezing it viselike as she peaked again and again, her thighs spread so wide her tendons burned like fire, her passage gushing juices with each deep, fiery spasm. Alan rammed himself in to the root and hung there as his cock bucked and throbbed inside her, flooding her cunt. His balls pulsed against her furred outer lips, contracting in hard little jerks until he’d spilled every drop. Then he slumped against her as Kyle

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Sierra Dafoe

collapsed to his knees, his forehead resting heavily against hers. With one work-hardened finger, he touched her mouth tenderly, rubbing the come that smeared her lips across them like gloss. “You still hungry?” he murmured. “Mmm-hmm.” She nodded, smiling a little at his surprised expression. Reaching out sleepily, she wrapped her arms around his bull-like neck and pillowed her head on his broad, burly shoulder. “I think I’m gonna be hungry for the rest of my life.” Behind her, she heard Alan chuckle. YYY There had been, of course, a few wagging tongues when Kyle and Alan had bought the old Robertson place. In a place the size of Preacher's Bend, there always were. “’Tain’t right,” those few had said, usually with bristling eyebrows and indignant looks. “Two young men living alone together—’tain’t right at all.” Before Thanksgiving, though, those tongues got a whole new direction to wag in when Cassie Jordan, who’d disappeared who knew where for nearly three years, turned back up in town and moved out there with them. And they really had a field day when, late the next August, Cassie gave birth to a fine, strapping, black-haired boy—and promptly turned around and married Kyle Watson. But as they never did anything more than wag, nobody paid them much mind—not even the following year when Alan James Watson’s new baby brother turned out to have hair as gold as an Idaho wheat field.

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About the Author

Twice nominated for Favorite Erotic Author in The Romance Studio's CAPA awards, Sierra Dafoe published her first erotic romance in 2006 and hasn't stopped since! Visit

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Christina Marshall has no desire to have a man in her life. TJ McFee and Jonathan Winslow are on a mission to change her mind.

The Strength of Three © 2007 Annmarie McKenna As the daughter of an abusive drunk, Christina could care less about the lack of men in her life. So why is she having seriously erotic dreams about two of her bosses? Jon and TJ are men who go after what they want and right now their focus is on a certain blonde-haired, brown-eyed nymph who’s done her best to blow off anyone of the XY persuasion. She’s a challenge. Never let it be said that either one of them ignore a challenge. Their seduction is set off course when Christina’s mother dies and her father reinstates himself in her life. When accusations of murder fly, Chris must find a way to learn to trust both Jon and TJ. Her very life may depend on it. Warning, this title contains the following: Blindfolds and bondage and sex—oh my. Ooh, and let’s not forget about the m/f/m ménage and the graphic language.

Enjoy the following excerpt for The Strength of Three: Jon swiped his thumb across one of her pink cheeks, counting it as a victory when she didn’t flinch or pull away. He couldn’t wait to see them flushed with the pleasure he and TJ would grace upon her. Would she scream out one or both of their names? Was she the silent type, a moaner? Based on the rapid pulse at her throat, he could tell she wasn’t as unaffected by him as she would like to think she was. “The difference between your father and TJ and I is that we won’t drink, ever.” He enunciated very clearly, giving her no room to misinterpret. “If there’s ever a time you don’t feel comfortable, you just have to tell us.” She snorted. “I’m not comfortable. Back off.” She raised her hands and pushed at his chest in an attempt to create space between them. He gave her a modicum and laughed. They’d never get anywhere if they let her have her way every time.

The shrill ring of a cell phone interrupted them. Chris never took her gaze off him. The phone rang again and she lifted her glass and sipped. TJ moved closer. “You gonna answer that?” Chris did a double take. “What?” “Your pocket is ringing, sugar,” Jon offered. “Huh? Oh. Oh, crap.” She fumbled in the pocket of her skirt for the slim pink flip phone he knew she carried. He just smiled. She was fucking gorgeous when riled, which was most of the time around them. They seemed to bring it out of her in spades. There was the flush, this time from frustration. Soon it would be courtesy of an explosive orgasm given by him or Teej. “Hello?” She stuck a finger in her ear to drown out the noise. “Carter? Is that you?” Carter. Chris’s younger brother, who, from Jon’s background search into the Marshall family, seemed to follow in Daddy’s footsteps. At least in the mean department. Christina had done the smart thing, getting away from her family. “No, I do not have any money.” TJ stood, exchanging a knowing look over her head with Jon. They both disliked the tone they heard in her voice. “Well, geez, I don’t know, Carter. Get a job like everyone else in the world maybe?” She paused and her eyes widened. “I will never fund your disgusting habit. I work too hard for the money I earn to waste it on you.” Shit. If the kid had a habit and needed money for a fix, things could get ugly fast. Faster if he owed money he didn’t have. A second later her eyes narrowed into slits. “You leave Mother out of this.” She paused. “I already regret it.” She slammed the flip closed and growled. “Carter’s bothering you again?” Aislinn asked across the table. “Again?” TJ and Jon barked together. Jon saw red. If the little punk had taken to messing with Chris, Jon would put an end to it really quickly. “He says he needs money to pay his rent.”

“And you know he’s lying, right?” Aislinn came around the table, nudging Jon out of the way with a sharp elbow to his stomach. He stepped back with an oomph while TJ and Kyle snickered. He flipped them both off. “After last month? Yes, I know.” “What the hell happened last month?” TJ snarled. Jon wanted to know the exact same thing and more. Like how they’d missed her brother’s problems when running a background check on her, something they did with everyone who worked for their company. Chris’s had been a little more involved since both of them knew she would inevitably end up in their bed. With their past in the Teams, it was both a habit and a necessity. He, Teej and Kyle had pissed off more than one baddy out there who would stop at nothing to seek revenge. A loved one would be an easy target. Before Chris could answer, Aislinn said, “Carter drove all the way from Chicago and showed up at her door begging for money for some overdue bill he had. When she offered to take him to the phone company to pay it for him, he flipped out saying he could handle it on his own. Then he tore through her house, grabbed her wallet and stole all the cash she had in there.” “Motherfucker.” Jon wanted to put his fist through a wall. Or better yet, Carter’s face. “Why the fuck didn’t you tell us?” Chris drew back, one eyebrow raised high. She crossed her arms over her chest. “Why would I?” Damn. Why would she? They didn’t exactly have a relationship. Yet. Starting right now, they did and he’d be goddamned if he let her junkie of a brother run roughshod over her again. “Oh, I don’t know, maybe so we could help?” “I think I can handle my own brother.” Jon snorted. “You handled him so well he ran you over to steal your money. How much did he get?” “I don’t see how it’s any of your—” “How much?” “A hundred and twenty bucks.”

Feeling the muscle ticking along his jaw, he nodded once. “Do you think you’ve heard the last of him tonight?” “I don’t know. What does it matter?” “You matter,” Jon growled and leaned closer so she had no choice but to look him in the eye. “TJ and I are done waiting for you.” He saw the flash of heat flare in her eyes. Hell, he could smell the moisture pooling between her legs. She could deny it all she wanted, but her body craved what he and Teej could offer. “We’re not like your father or your brother and the only way you’ll see that is to let us close. Probably won’t be easy for you, but I can damn well guarantee it’ll be worth it.” Her eyes widened, her nostrils flared with each inhalation, and the pulse at the base of her throat sped up. He wanted to lean in and lick it, to taste her and leave his mark. Not here though. He straightened. If his dick got any harder, he’d be popping out of his jeans. Wouldn’t that be something? “I don’t”—she had to clear her throat—“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” “Sex, Chris. Remember the conversation we were having earlier?” Aislinn butt in. “Aislinn.” Chris’s hissed reprimand made Jon laugh out loud. Oh God the woman was priceless. He’d wondered what they’d been talking about when she’d yelled out across the bar. “What?” Aislinn said innocently. “I’m just getting you back for a little incident that happened at work a couple of months ago. Remember there was something about a feather duster?” “That was your fault. You’re the one who asked Kyle if he had a duster but didn’t expound on what kind, or that we’d been imagining them wearing dusters, cowboy hats and nothing el— Oh my God.” Chris’s eyes closed. “Please tell me I didn’t just say that out loud.”

Mixing business with pleasure has never been so tempting.

Temptation City © 2008 Lyric James Ashia Forrester has always lived by one rule: Never mix business with pleasure. As the owner of Temptation City, a male strip club, that has never been a problem. Until now. The talented new stripper she’s hired stirs a desire in her that cannot be denied. Jalen Spencer is an undercover cop who loves his job. His next assignment is to pose as a stripper at a local club and find out if the owner is laundering money for the mob. He’s pretty sure this mission will be a walk in the park, until he meets the sexy owner. It isn’t long before Jalen’s giving hot performances on stage and in her bed. But how will she handle it when she learns everything about him is a lie?

Enjoy the following excerpt for Temptation City: Ashia made herself sit in her office. She wanted to go watch him so bad her feet almost moved involuntarily without her. She still tasted his kiss on her lips. But after he turned her away, she knew she had to fight the attraction she felt for him. When Joey came by to see her, she knew Jalen was sitting in the club area and she got a thrill of power from it. She knew he sat there watching, wondering. Joey always flirted with her. It was their thing. But nothing had ever happened between them. Besides, she wouldn’t allow herself to be involved sexually or intimately with someone who had to keep certain things about his life or job a secret, specifically things that could make them wind up in jail. And if Joey kept it up, he would be. He, too, had come to her just like her brother and asked for her help. Again, she’d refused. He didn’t like it, but he understood. The history they shared still allowed them to be friends. But she did get a perverse pleasure out of witnessing Jalen’s jealousy. She didn’t understand it, but was glad nonetheless. It meant that he felt something for her. She heard his music end and the cheers and screams of the women in the club. He’d had another fabulous performance.

However, there was still work to do, so she got up and headed into the kitchen. Her manager had already informed her they were running low on a few items. She wanted to head out to make a late-night run to the store. Plus, it would allow her to avoid Jalen. Just being in the same building with him did something to her nerves. “Hey, Vivian, you got that list ready for me?” “Yes, here you go,” she said, handing it to her. “Jalen had another awesome show.” She didn’t want to hear it. She’d purposely avoided watching him tonight. “Those women are so crazy for him. They asked about him when they walked in the door. They wanted to make sure the Midnight Panther was performing tonight.” Ashia slid an unconcerned mask over her features. “Good. That’s what I like to hear.” She folded and tucked the list in her purse. “If I’m not back before the clean-up crew is finished, close up for me, okay?” “Sure thing, boss. See you later.” She slipped out the front while her final act, The Crimson Stallion, finished his performance. By the time she got back, everyone would be gone. At least all the dancers would be, anyway. Including Jalen. But an hour and a half later when she walked into her office, that wasn’t the case. He was sitting at her desk, looking at her computer. “W-what are you doing in here?” she stammered, too shocked to be angry that he was in her office and on her personal desktop when he wasn’t supposed to be. Jalen stood. He’d changed into a pair of blue jeans and a red shirt. Her favorite color. The reason why everything in her club was accented in it, and also the reason she wore it each night the club was open. “Um…Vivian told me you might come back, so I waited.” She set down her purse and crossed her arms over her chest. “Why?” “I’m sorry about the other day.” “We’ve already been over this,” she snapped. “No…I mean. I’m sorry I stopped.”

She looked heavenward and took a deep breath. “Don’t do this to me, Jalen. One minute you’re pulling me forward, the next you’re pushing me back. Just…just…go home.” She rubbed her palms up and down her arms. They itched to touch him, to feel him, because even though he apologized, his eyes hinted at something different. He wanted her, but he fought against it. He didn’t want to want her. Why? What was wrong with her? Jalen’s hazel eyes flashed liquid heat. He came around her desk and got closer to her. His gaze moved the length of her body, and she knew immediately when the barrier between employer and employee changed. Standing in this room, they were just a man and a woman who wanted each other desperately. He framed her face and looked into her eyes, so much emotion behind them that she sensed he felt he was doing something awfully wrong. She cradled him around the waist in an attempt to let him know that everything could be so right between them. So perfect if he’d only let it. Ashia was overjoyed when he kissed her and even more so when he eased his tongue inside her mouth. She moaned against his lips, licking, nibbling at him. And he consumed her in return. Slipping his hand to the small of her back, he traced the curve of her spine, up to her neck and back down again. Jalen’s hands moved lower to palm the curve of her ass and he pulled her tight against him, hard and ready for her. But was he willing? “We shouldn’t be doing this.” But even as he said it, his lips nibbled at her ear. Then he spun her around, swept her hair to the side, and his tongue traced a wet path across the back of her neck. “Then stop right now,” she panted, aching for his touch, needing him, wanting him. “I can’t,” he murmured, and slid his hands under her shirt to cup her breasts. “There’s just something about you that pulls me in.” He was right. For some powerful, unexplainable reason, she was drawn to him, and he to her. As if some magic force tugged them together and didn’t want to loosen its hold. As if they belonged together.

His hands found the zipper at the back of the black mini-skirt she wore and she heard the metal come apart and felt the material whisper down her legs to pool at her ankles. She stepped out of it. “This is what you want,” he stated. It wasn’t a question. “Yes.” The word came out as a gasp when she felt him drop to his knees behind her. His hands touched her ankles and grazed a path up over her calves to her thighs until he slipped his fingers under the red bikini panties she wore. “This is what I want,” he confirmed. She wobbled on her feet and had to grab the edge of the table as he pulled them down. “My shoes,” she whispered. “Leave them on,” he said and kissed the dent in her hip. Carefully, so she wouldn’t fall, she lifted one leg, then the other as he took off her underwear. Standing, he reached around her and pulled each button loose on her shirt and dropped it to the floor. With his teeth, he unhooked her bra and sent another wet path of kisses up her back. She moaned with pleasure and fought to hold a single thought inside her head. The erotic need that pulsed inside her was so intense it threatened to overwhelm her. Jalen splayed his hand flat against her back and gently pushed her. “Bend over.” An entire cataclysm of spasms rippled under her skin and she gasped for air. Because she knew they’d moved too fast. She’d been too needy, too excited, but she wouldn’t, couldn’t slow it down now. Their need for each other was like a locomotive without a brake, fast approaching a collision. And when it was over, damage and agonizing pain would be the only thing left.

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