Page 25 of Haunted

“You got any beers left?”

“Nope, but I’ve got a bottle of tequila if you’re interested.”

Butch wasn’t too sure about that. Bourbon? He could handle that.

Race grinned. “What’s wrong? Tequila too much for ya?”

Oh,nowhe’d gone and done it.

“Where are the glasses?”

Race cackled and pointed to the cabinet on the wall. “In there. So’s the tequila.”

Butch retrieved the bottle, filled two shot glasses, and handed one to Race.

“Down it in one,” Race demanded.

Butch could play that game. He tipped the glass up, and the fiery liquid hit the back of his throat. “Christ, it burns.”

“Second shot’s always better.” Race grabbed the bottle and poured, then raised his own. “Come on, Princess. Don’t worry about getting back to the ranch. I’ve got a sofa bed with your name on it.” His eyes twinkled with good humor.

His referral to the night they’d met made Butch smile. “Is it a big enough sofa this time?”

“You know it.”

Fuck it.

The more the level in the tequila bottle dropped, the more he noticed stuff. Like Race’s lips. They were full and kinda soft-looking, and Butch got to wondering how they’d feel if they were wrapped around his—

Whoa there, cowboy.

He grew hot. Cold. Hot. Hard.

That last part was no surprise. He hadn’t been with anyone since Diana, and he’d done a whole lot more jerking off since then.

“You wanna tell me what’s going on?” Race sounded sober, the bastard.

“Nothin’s goin’ on,” he retorted.

“Sure. I can hear the cogs turning from across the room.” Race frowned. “We’re friends, right?”

“Course.”

“Then you know you can talk to me about anything, right? Because it looks to me like you need to take a load off your mind.”

The words were out before Butch had time to think.

“Is it so different, bein’ with a guy?”

Race stilled. “We talking sex?” Butch clammed up, and Race arched his eyebrows. “Okay, where didthatcome from?”

Ice won out over heat. “Forget I asked, okay?” He held his shot glass up. “An’ pour me another.”

Race shook his head. “Uh-uh. Not until we’ve talked about this.” He stretched his long legs out in front of him, and Butch couldn’t miss the bulge in his jeans. “I’m not sure I can explain it. It’s kinda like describing the taste of chocolate to someone who’s never tasted it.”

Say it. For fuck’s sake, justsayit. You know you want to.

“And… and what if I wanted a taste?”

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