Page 33 of Down in Flames

His heart flipped and stuttered, racing despite his deep, slow breaths.

Michael sat beside him on the hay bale, jeans pulled up but still gaping open at the zipper. He raked one hand through West’s sweaty hair, combing it back from his forehead to get a good look at his face.

“You okay?” he asked, concerned.

West gulped and nodded, trying to keep the strain off his face as his pulse finally began to settle back to normal. “Fine. Just let me catch my breath.”

Michael’s palm settled flat on West’s chest, and he frowned. “Your heart’s racing.”

“Well,” West gave a winded laugh and propped himself up on his elbows. “That was an epic workout.”

“You think it was hard on you? I’m practically old enough to be your father.”

He wasn’t, not really, but West grinned devilishly. “I’ll call you daddy if it would make you feel better.”

Michael threw back his head and laughed, throat gleaming with sweat in the moonlight. “Kid, you ain’t seen nothing yet.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

They spent the night together in that barn, protected from the itchy hay by an old wool blanket Michael dug out of the equipment room. A bed in the house would have been more comfortable, but West figured that was a huge step for a man with a little girl to think about. Or maybe, like West, he just wanted to preserve this intimacy as long as possible.

The temperature dipped past freezing, but the insulation of the hay and blanket kept away the worst of it. Michael's arms did the rest. Using his pocket knife, Michael had cut the twine on one bale and fluffed it before settling back and spreading his legs for West to nestle into the open V.

It should have felt strange. He'd never cuddled with another man—hell, with anyone—in his life. Not that he could remember, anyway. The Owens family had a lot of good qualities, but outward demonstrations of affection weren't on that list. His own father hadn't hugged him since he learned to tie his shoes. But affection came second nature to Michael. He'd had long years of marriage to learn, and he'd somehow come through his own hardships without any hang-ups that West had ever noticed. He was overprotective, but that seemed like a reasonable response for a man who'd lost so many loved ones in his life. His parents, grandparents, fellow soldiers, and wife had all been taken from him too soon. West couldn't blame him for riding herd over whoever was left.

West had never lost anything—because he'd never had anything to begin with. His family had sacrificed everything to keep him sheltered from the brutal world. He'd never worked until his hands bled, and he'd never flunked out of school. He'd never lost a job or hidden from a debt collector. His truck was an old hand-me-down, and so was the furniture in his studio apartment. He'd never known his grandparents, so he didn't remember the agony of putting a relative in the ground. He'd never had a relationship, and he'd never been in love. Not until Michael. But as inexperienced as he was, even West knew he couldn't just blurt something like that out after one blowjob. No matter how earth-shattering it had been.

So, they talked about other things. Anything and everything. In quiet voices, they murmured secrets in the darkness. Michael admitted how lonely he'd been since Mary's death, how in the early days, he'd distracted himself by working to the bone on the ranch. It might have gone on for years if not for a dream he'd had one night.

"Mary was there," he murmured, resting his chin on top of West's head. "Not how she was when she died, but a girl again, like the day we met. She was holding a little girl by the hand, and I didn't recognize her. It was Abigail, and I didn't recognize her. Not until Mary said her name. When I woke up, I felt sick to my stomach. I don't know if I believe that it was a message from Mary...but I want to believe it. I want to think she's still watching out for us, and that means I need to be sure to make her proud."

"There's no way she'd be anything else," West murmured, squeezing one of the thick forearms Michael had wrapped around his chest. "Is that why you've never dated? You're worried about what she'd think?"

"Nah." Michael's voice had a smile in it. "I guess I just wasn't ready, and I didn't want to lead anyone on. I've managed to avoid small-town drama ever since I got here, and I wasn't about to start courting it just because I got bored of my own hand. But Mary wasn't the jealous type, or we'd never have survived our sex life."

"I can't imagine..." West swallowed thickly. "I mean...I can, and believe me, it's hot, but it doesn't seem like something you'd enjoy."

"No?"

"You're so traditional."

Michael chuckled. "It was fun…or at least it was at first. We were young. It gave me a chance to explore part of myself I'd never have known existed otherwise. But it wasn't always easy. Mary was a lot more invested in it than I was, and she didn't want to stop when I started to feel like it was coming between us. I was still commissioned then, and word was getting around the base that she'd been playing on her own while I was deployed."

West sucked in a shocked breath. "Was she?" he asked fearfully.

"She said no. But part of the reason we moved here was to get away from that scene."

West didn't need it spelled out for him. Michael's voice was thin with old pain, and maybe even a little guilt for not believing better of the woman he'd loved. It hurt to hear, and West shuddered to think how much more it must hurt to carry.

I’d never do that. I’d never betray you. I could never hurt you like that.

He wanted to blurt it out, and it took a strength he didn't know he had to bite his tongue. The last thing he wanted was to come across like he was judging a dead woman, especially when it was his deepest desire to take up the space she'd left empty. But he couldn't just stay silent. He couldn't risk Michael wondering if he'd ever wake up one day and discover West sowing his wild oats with some other man.

"I..." He licked his dry lips. "I don't think I could ever share you with anyone. I don't think I could handle it if you wanted to share me with anyone."

Michael was silent, chest rising and falling with the pace of his slow, steady breathing. West began to worry that he'd tripped over a deal breaker, and he tensed up, opening his mouth without any idea of what might come spilling out. But just then, Michael's hand came up and cupped him by the chin. He tilted West's face and kissed him, gentle as summer rain.

"I don't want that," he assured him, lingering over his lips. "Don’t need it.”

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