Page 18 of Wistful in Wyoming
Unfortunately, Dale was looking straight ahead, and his expression was unreadable. Averting his gaze, Jeremiah stared out the passenger window and tried to chill out. He knew he was overthinking things. They’d had a wonderful date, but he didn’t want the night to end just yet.
Maybe Dale would come in for a drink? That was something people did, right?
The last evening that’d come anywhere close to being a date for him was about three years ago. He’d met a hot pilot at a club and gone to the guy’s hotel room to screw around—something Jeremiah hadn’t done often. He usually kept his hookups restricted to the bathroom or dark back hallway of the club, but for some reason that night, he’d agreed to something more comfortable and intimate. They’d eaten take-out Thai food while lounging on the disheveled bed before starting round two. That’d been someone Jeremiah could’ve gotten into, seen more than once, but the guy lived in Texas, and the trip to Cheyenne hadn’t been routine for him. Now, Jeremiah was grateful that’d only been a one-night stand, because that pilot paled in comparison to this sexy Marine.
Jeremiah feared he was going to fuck up again and end the date on a sour note. Despite his assurances, Dale wasn’t going to be willing to take things slow and let Jeremiah ease out of his comfort zone. Soon, he’d give up and never want to see Jeremiah again. The sexy Marine could find someone far better than a closeted rancher in his forties.
Clenching his fists, Jeremiah bit the inside of his cheek while trying to fight the wild horses he felt stampeding in his gut.
“Are you okay?” Dale’s voice broke through his spiraling thoughts, drawing his attention.
“What? I’m sorry, what did you say?”
“I asked if you were okay.” Dale glanced his way and shrugged. “You seem, I don’t know, tense.”
He hesitated, licking his lips, as the truck stopped in front of the house. The porch light was on. A quick inspection of the small parking area by the bunkhouses told him his employees were still out on the town. Andrew’s cottage was on the far side of that and out of his and Dale’s sight. No one was around to see them. “How honest do you want me to be?”
Shutting off the engine, Dale grimaced as if he was expecting the worst. “My answer will always be the same. Completely honest. I’d rather a painful truth than pretty lies.”
Jeremiah unbuckled his seat belt and turned fully to face the other man. His mouth was dry, and he swallowed hard, certain that at any moment, Dale would politely tell him things weren’t going to work out between them after all. Jeremiah prayed that wouldn’t happen. Gathering up his courage, he confessed, “I want to ask you inside. For a drink. And I’m really nervous.”
Dale let out a heavy sigh, which had Jeremiah’s navel puckering. “Come on, cowboy, let’s talk about this on the porch.” Not waiting for him to respond, Dale climbed out of the truck and strode toward the house.
“Well, okay then,” he muttered to the empty cab before following Dale, slamming the truck door behind him.
The gorgeous Marine was leaning against the porch rail, his hands gripping the banister beside his slim hips. Jeremiah groaned inwardly, not allowing his gaze to linger on the snug fit of Dale’s jeans over his tree-trunk thighs, nor the enticing bulge behind his zipper. The man was sin on two long legs. He could easily be the hero in a Wild West movie and have men and women swooning after him.
Dammit. Jeremiah forced the reminder that, not only was he competing against all the men in the world for Dale’s affections, but the women too. His rivalry pool was double than usual. Dale could have anyone he wanted, and Jeremiah couldn’t figure out why was he in the company of a middle-aged man who’d been a coward for most of his life.
Dale cleared his throat. “There’s nothing for you to be nervous about because I’m not coming inside with you.”
Jeremiah felt like he’d been poleaxed. He fucking hated being right. Dropping his gaze to his boots, he nodded and tried not to let the other man know he’d just crushed both his heart and soul. “Um, okay. Thanks for dinner then. I had a nice time.”
Pivoting, he gave Dale his back and stepped toward the door, feeling his heart splinter inside his chest. When something seemed too good to be true, it usually was.When will you learn—there won’t ever be more for you?He’d grow old with nothing but a barn full of woodworking projects and this ranch to show for it. He’d never have a partner or a family of his own.
“Stop.” A hand on his arm jerked him to a halt. “That came out wrong.”
Jeremiah froze but didn’t look back at Dale. He was too raw right now, his emotions scattered all over the place. He swallowed past the sudden burn of tears, refusing to give Dale the satisfaction of seeing him so upset.
“Jay, please, let me explain,” Dale pleaded.
A shiver went down Jeremiah’s spine at the nickname Dale seemed to have given him. Other than family, who sometimes called him Jer, no one had ever shortened his name before, and if they did, they’d always used Jerry like Janice had done at the restaurant. That’d been the first time he hadn’t corrected the other person and only because he felt it would’ve been rude in the woman’s place of business. But when Dale called him Jay, for some reason, it felt special, like a lover’s pet name.
Helpless to resist the other man’s contrite tone, Jeremiah blinked several times before glancing over his shoulder and meeting Dale’s gaze. Those whiskey-colored eyes shimmered with desire and need, which went right to Jeremiah’s cock, making him instantly hard with a suddenness that stole his breath.How can Dale look at me like that, yet walk away?
Dale spun him around, walking him backward until his ass and shoulders hit the front door. Hands cupped Jeremiah’s jaw as thumbs traced his cheekbones. Fingers pressed into his nape. Dale lowered his voice into a raspy but sensual whisper while his gaze roamed Jeremiah’s face. “I’m hanging on by a thread here. I want you—though want isn’t a strong enough word for what I’m feeling right now. I’m desperate to explore every inch of your gorgeous body. To lick, suck, and taste you. I want to bury my face in your crotch and inhale your scent, I want to map your body with my fingers and tongue. I want to be all you see, hear, smell, feel, and taste. I’m dying to drive my cock so deep inside your ass, neither of us will be able to remember our own names.”
A whimper of need escaped Jeremiah, but Dale continued, “I don’t care how we come together, just that we do. I want to spend hours finding out what makes you beg, what makes you shout my name. Would you do that, baby? Would you scream my name when I made you come?”
He was too stunned, too on edge, to answer with words, so he just nodded. Dale’s gaze dusted over Jeremiah’s cheeks. “God, these damn freckles ... ”
Growling, Dale leaned in and slammed his lips down on Jeremiah’s. Within seconds, his tongue demanded entry, and Jeremiah surrendered without hesitation. All awareness of being out in the open on his front porch fled his mind. Fire exploded from his mouth outward, racing down his chest and settling heavy and hot in his groin. Their tongues dueled, fighting for supremacy. The taste of Dale, beer, and something spicy made Jeremiah groan and slide his tongue deeper into the man’s mouth, chasing the flavor. The man’s lips were hot, demanding, and so incredibly soft it was unbelievable. Jeremiah wanted to feel those pillowy lips all over his body. He needed to see them wrapped around the girth of his cock while Dale stared up at him with those smoky, whiskey-laced eyes. The mental image lanced him with another shot of pure lust and greed.
Fisting both hands in Dale’s shirt, Jeremiah tried to pull him impossibly closer. Aligning them from hips to chest, rubbing and thrusting, he fought to meld their bodies together while kissing Dale harder, deeper. He wanted this man—needed everything he was offering and more.
He hooked his leg up and over Dale’s hip, digging his boot heel into the man’s ass, tugging him even closer. Dale wrapped his hand around Jeremiah’s knee, holding him up and open to him.
His thoughts scattered, leaving only one left—more, yes, more.
