presumably Mabel Harding had meant for them to use.
Tyler looked doubtfully at them and turned to Clint with a grin. You want top or bottom bunk?
Clint swept Tyler with another of those dark, dangerous gazes that set his innards to melting. I got a better idea. How bout let‘s put these mattresses on the floor? Give us more space.
Tyler grinned. Works for me.
Clint dropped his wet hat onto the table and reached for Tyler, pulling him into his arms. He kissed him hard, holding Tyler‘s face in his hands as he hungrily explored Tyler‘s mouth with his tongue. Tyler responded in kind, drinking in Clint‘s kisses as if he were dying of thirst.
I‘ve been waitin‘ all afternoon to do that, Clint said, when he finally let Tyler go. And now we got all night, just you and me, boy. Just you and me. There was a fire in Clint‘s dark eyes that made Tyler look away, lest he tumble headlong into it and be burned to smithereens.
Ever since Clint had made him come in the truck several hours before, Tyler‘s mind had been going at full throttle, coming up with a thousand reasons why he needed to nip this in the bud, even while his body ached for a repeat performance.
After the whole mess with Wayne, Tyler had promised himself never again. Never again would he allow himself to be so vulnerable with another man. Never again would he hand over the reins of his desire to someone else.
And yet…
And yet since the moment he‘d laid eyes on Clint Darrow, something that had been playing possum inside him these past months had leaped wide awake, eager, even desperate, to rekindle the flames he‘d tried so hard to douse.
Tyler stood trying to catch his breath, his heart thrumming, his skin actually tingling with the need for Clint‘s touch. Though he couldn‘t deny his physical attraction to the cowboy, he knew whatever was happening between them wasn‘t right. He had to get control of himself. He was his own man.
The rain continued to fall and a sharp crack of thunder was followed by a soft, restless whinny coming from somewhere beyond the kitchen door. Tyler headed toward it, glad for a reason to get away.
The door opened onto a tack room, the warm smells of saddle leather and damp straw causing a sudden, sharp pain of longing for his own horse, left behind at the Double S. Beyond the room were the stables, and, as promised, a basket of carrots stood at the ready.
Taking two, Tyler headed toward the horses, one with a mahogany coat and black mane who stood regal as a king. Tyler offered the dark horse a carrot, which he accepted as his due. The other, a dappled gray, was pawing the ground nervously and tossing her mane, her large eyes rolling.
Hey there, Tyler said softly. You must be Gracie. He moved slowly toward her, his voice low and soft. I know how you feel, Gracie. It‘s scary sometimes, the things we don‘t understand. But it‘s just thunder. Clouds bumping. Nothing to be afraid of here all cozy in this nice dry stable. He reached toward her with a gentle hand, lightly touching her forehead with his finger, which he moved in a slow, easy circle. Gracie lowered her head, snuffling softly as she accepted the offered carrot.
That‘s true, what you said. Tyler heard Clint behind him but didn‘t turn around. He continued to stroke the horse‘s velvet-soft head. It‘s scary sometimes, the things we don‘t understand.
Tyler didn‘t reply. Clint continued. Us cowboys, we grow up with this code, pounded into us from the moment we‘re born. You gotta be tough. To be vulnerable, to need another person, is seen to be weak, and no self-respectin‘ cowboy wants to be seen as weak. The way I see it, you and me, we was born with the deck stacked against us, seein‘ as we‘re already what you might call sexual outlaws—hankerin‘ after our own kind instead of the opposite sex. For you it‘s even tougher, at least on the surface, than for me. Because you‘ve got this desire—this need—to submit to another person and to belong
Tyler looked doubtfully at them and turned to Clint with a grin. You want top or bottom bunk?
Clint swept Tyler with another of those dark, dangerous gazes that set his innards to melting. I got a better idea. How bout let‘s put these mattresses on the floor? Give us more space.
Tyler grinned. Works for me.
Clint dropped his wet hat onto the table and reached for Tyler, pulling him into his arms. He kissed him hard, holding Tyler‘s face in his hands as he hungrily explored Tyler‘s mouth with his tongue. Tyler responded in kind, drinking in Clint‘s kisses as if he were dying of thirst.
I‘ve been waitin‘ all afternoon to do that, Clint said, when he finally let Tyler go. And now we got all night, just you and me, boy. Just you and me. There was a fire in Clint‘s dark eyes that made Tyler look away, lest he tumble headlong into it and be burned to smithereens.
Ever since Clint had made him come in the truck several hours before, Tyler‘s mind had been going at full throttle, coming up with a thousand reasons why he needed to nip this in the bud, even while his body ached for a repeat performance.
After the whole mess with Wayne, Tyler had promised himself never again. Never again would he allow himself to be so vulnerable with another man. Never again would he hand over the reins of his desire to someone else.
And yet…
And yet since the moment he‘d laid eyes on Clint Darrow, something that had been playing possum inside him these past months had leaped wide awake, eager, even desperate, to rekindle the flames he‘d tried so hard to douse.
Tyler stood trying to catch his breath, his heart thrumming, his skin actually tingling with the need for Clint‘s touch. Though he couldn‘t deny his physical attraction to the cowboy, he knew whatever was happening between them wasn‘t right. He had to get control of himself. He was his own man.
The rain continued to fall and a sharp crack of thunder was followed by a soft, restless whinny coming from somewhere beyond the kitchen door. Tyler headed toward it, glad for a reason to get away.
The door opened onto a tack room, the warm smells of saddle leather and damp straw causing a sudden, sharp pain of longing for his own horse, left behind at the Double S. Beyond the room were the stables, and, as promised, a basket of carrots stood at the ready.
Taking two, Tyler headed toward the horses, one with a mahogany coat and black mane who stood regal as a king. Tyler offered the dark horse a carrot, which he accepted as his due. The other, a dappled gray, was pawing the ground nervously and tossing her mane, her large eyes rolling.
Hey there, Tyler said softly. You must be Gracie. He moved slowly toward her, his voice low and soft. I know how you feel, Gracie. It‘s scary sometimes, the things we don‘t understand. But it‘s just thunder. Clouds bumping. Nothing to be afraid of here all cozy in this nice dry stable. He reached toward her with a gentle hand, lightly touching her forehead with his finger, which he moved in a slow, easy circle. Gracie lowered her head, snuffling softly as she accepted the offered carrot.
That‘s true, what you said. Tyler heard Clint behind him but didn‘t turn around. He continued to stroke the horse‘s velvet-soft head. It‘s scary sometimes, the things we don‘t understand.
Tyler didn‘t reply. Clint continued. Us cowboys, we grow up with this code, pounded into us from the moment we‘re born. You gotta be tough. To be vulnerable, to need another person, is seen to be weak, and no self-respectin‘ cowboy wants to be seen as weak. The way I see it, you and me, we was born with the deck stacked against us, seein‘ as we‘re already what you might call sexual outlaws—hankerin‘ after our own kind instead of the opposite sex. For you it‘s even tougher, at least on the surface, than for me. Because you‘ve got this desire—this need—to submit to another person and to belong
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