Page 68 of Wrangled Up

“Someone like me,” Christian said in a voice that said he really believed it. He met Tucker’s gaze head-on, the lights in his eyes as challenging as the headlights of a big rig barreling at him without brakes. “If you intend to hurt her again, I’m going to have to kick your ass, Langley.”

He nodded once, hard. Then probed Christian’s stare deeper. “And if I hurt you?”

“You have. I think you know…my feelings for you. In case letting you take me in the ass wasn’t enough of an indication.”

A huff of laughter left Tucker, making room in his lungs to draw a breath big enough to make his ribs creak. Working his new piercing between his teeth, he slung an arm around Christian’s shoulders and drew their foreheads together until they bumped. The spicy scents of his lover infused him with fresh lust.

“We’re in a tangle, that’s for sure.”

“Yeah.” Christian’s breath washed across his face, smelling of mint. “We’d better go rescue Claire.”

“You sure you want me to come in there with you and do that?”

Christian glared at him. “You runnin’ again?”

He considered it for the first time. While away, he’d spent many long hours contemplating his life’s path. Heather was his entire existence, but she no longer could be. There were people in his life too important to let suffer because he couldn’t get his head together.

He squeezed Christian’s nape lightly. “Not runnin’. Well, I am, I guess. I’m running straight at you and Claire.”

Christian’s eyes flickered shut at his words. Before he could open them, Tucker leaned in and brushed his mouth over Christian’s. Lightly. Then getting a real taste of him, he went back for more.

A groan rumbled in Christian’s chest as they grappled with each other, mouths hot and open, tongues liquid mercury. Slipping, demanding, plunging deep. The Wyoming wind that seemed to be ever-present plucked at their clothes, as if asking for consent to strip them.

Tucker kneaded Christian’s spine, skimming the hard planes of muscle he’d watched straining while he fisted his cock. Before he could think twice about what he was doing, he tightened his hold on Christian and dragged him toward the barn.

Christian followed without resistance, plucking at Tucker’s shirt buttons as they hit the pool of dark shadows inside. Hay and clean stalls greeted Tucker’s nostrils, and he took a second to appreciate all that this man had done for him.

For them.

He shoved Christian against the wall and slanted his mouth hungrily over his. Lust sparked between them, primal and greedy. They tore at each other’s waistbands, searching until they found their prizes.

He groaned as Christian wrapped his thick fingers around his cock. Tucker reached deep into Christian’s boxers, gliding his fingers up from the base of his cock to the velvety head.

A bead of pre-come welled on the tip, which he flicked with his thumb. Christian growled into Tucker’s mouth. Tucker bit his lover’s lip savagely as he began to pump his shaft.

Christian worked over his cock with nimble fingers, applying the perfect pressure, tugging his length and knowing all of Tucker’s sweet spots. Tucker hooked his pinky around Christian’s and they stroked each other in wild abandon.

Curls of heat rose through Tucker’s body and stole his mind. He shoved his lover harder against the wall. He angled Christian’s cock so it rubbed sensuously against his own.

Their breath rasped louder.

“Hell,” Christian groaned.

“Spill on me. Let me feel your come on my dick.”

Christian stiffened and pumped Tucker’s shaft faster. Squeezing, releasing. Tucker’s balls drew up tight to his body. Fuck, he was going to explode first, and he didn’t want that.

“Not yet. Together,” Christian grated out.

Tucker ran his tongue around Christian’s mouth. Christian chased his right back. Passion elevated to a level so high, his head was fogged with cloud cover. He could no longer see, only feel.

Rough hands, scrape of beard, velvet tongue.Come.

Christian erupted. He shook as each pump of cream shot from his body. The heated drops struck Tucker’s shaft and he lost it.

He tore his mouth away from Christian’s and roared his release. Their spurts mingled. “Shit, shit, shit,” he growled. The idea of their juices mixing made him empty completely.

At that instant, a snippet of a song floated through his head—a line from the chorus of a song he associated with Heather. A song slated to play at their wedding reception.

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