by R. Cayden
“Get what?” Gunner asked.
“Some fucking peace and quiet!” I barked back, tossing the bedding to the porch. “And you’re going to curl up in each other’s arms on this porch and think about what a bad idea it was to break into some stranger’s house, especially when that stranger is an ornery man with more tattoos and scars than you can count.”
Malcolm curled his hand around Gunner’s elbow. “You’re asking us to stay?” He looked so innocently confused I almost laughed to myself.
“I’m not asking you to stay,” I corrected. “I’m telling you that there’s a damn branch in the road and that even if you were stupid enough to try to drive out in this storm, you wouldn’t be able to make it. So I’m telling you that you’re staying.” I gestured over my shoulder to the porch with my thumb. “It should stay dry under the back roof, and the hammock is plenty big for both of you.”
Gunner shook his head, and I was pretty sure he was about to turn and run away himself. Then another bolt of lightning crashed through the sky, causing Malcolm to jump against him. When they’d each recovered from the shock, Gunner sighed.
“Are you seriously telling us that we have to sleep on your porch now?”
I smiled, remembering that he had smoked in my house. “That’s right. In about five minutes, you’re going to hear some Rage Against the Machine on the stereo here. I’m going to drink whatever beers you haven’t already got your grubby hands on until I pass out, and you’re going to keep your horny little mouths shut. Got it?”
Malcolm still looked scared shitless, but Gunner must have been realizing I wasn’t going to lose my cool after all. Sucking on his teeth and giving me a good look up and down, he nodded slowly. “There’s a branch blocking the path.”
“That’s right, kid,” I said, grabbing a throw pillow from the chair by the door and tossing it to him. “Date time is over. Now get your asses out of my sight before I change my mind and start showing you what real trouble is.”
They stared at me, dumbfounded, as I grabbed my beer and headed toward the stairs. I took a few steps upward, then turned, giving them one last glance.
“And Gunner?”
“Yeah?”
I pointed at his crotch. “Your dick’s hanging out of your boxers. Have a little respect for yourself, huh?”
Chapter Thirteen
Malcolm
Curled up in the hammock, I should have been shaking with anxiety after a scene like the one in the house. I’d normally convince myself that Angry Man was going to drink those beers and change his mind about letting us off the hook. I’d be coming up with excuses to explain a black eye or an arrest record to my family and debating whether I should just run off into the storm and be done with it all.
But in the hammock, I felt fine. Gunner and I had to spoon each other to fit. His arms were wrapped around my chest, holding me tight, and one leg was thrown over my body. I felt each breath he took, and my weight shifted with the rise and fall of his chest. The wind rocked us gently, and when lightning struck in the mountains, I caught a glimpse of our reflection in the window.
It felt good to be held by him. It was like I knew he was close, and even though he might do something brash or impulsive, having him there meant that I was safe. It felt so good, in fact, that I could almost convince myself nothing was wrong.
Almost…
I felt his stubble against the back of my neck. The tickle of it made me wiggle up a little closer to his warmth.
He pulled the sheet tight around us. “You calming down?” he said softly, his voice rumbling in my ear.
I nodded, feeling grateful he hadn’t noticed the tears in my eyes earlier. Crying like a child in front of him once was humiliating enough. “Yeah, I’m good.”
His arm tightened across my chest, and with a sharp breath of air, I pushed my butt out. His crotch was pressed against my backside, and he felt as hard as I was. Smiling, I wiggled back against him one more time.
“Fuck,” Gunner whispered. “Sorry that got so intense.”
The wind howled through the forests again. “I’m just glad we don’t have to try to drive back in this. You think that guy is going to be pissed in the morning?”
Gunner scoffed. “He can go to hell if he tries to talk us that way again. As soon as the storm has passed, we’re out of here anyway.”
“Just promise me you won’t try anything,” I said softly.
“What do you mean?
A sharp gust of wind cut across the porch, carrying little droplets of rain with it. “Just please don’t try to fight him or anything. Or steal something.”
Gunner grunted, clearly displeased with my request, and we fell back into silence. I wished that I could just keep my mouth shut, and I knew that he had a tendency to talk a big talk. He was probably just trying to impress me, anyway, or maybe to impress himself. But after he mentioned robbing my landlord, and after he told me about the knife throwing competition he got in at work, I was nervous he’d start doing the things he talked about doing, instead of just tossing around threats and big stories.
I at least knew enough not to say the other parts I was thinking. I didn’t point out that the angry man was much larger than Gunner or that he probably had a gun hidden away somewhere in that house. And I definitely didn’t admit that I found him ridiculously hot.
I had always been turned on by rough, powerful men. I just always thought that guys like that would stay firmly in the realm of my fantasies. But now that Gunner seemed into me, I realized I wanted something more than just awkward dates with other uptight guys my parents picked. I wanted more than masturbating alone in my bedroom. I wanted a real connection, a real relationship.
The way it felt, to be held by Gunner and rocking in the breeze—I wanted to feel that way forever.
With any luck, we’d be out of there in the morning and never see the angry man again. But in a weird way, I felt I owed him something. Cornered and trapped with Gunner, his angry glare burning into us, I had felt just as turned on by him as I felt terrified. He was ruggedly handsome and so powerful that I couldn’t help fantasize about the things he might do to me, and to Gunner, too. I was vulnerable, needy, and frightened, and for the first time in my life, I could fully admit how much that turned me on.
I reached my hand backward, resting it on Gunner’s thigh. When he made a soft, gentle noise, I realized he had finally fallen asleep. And with the storm still gusting outside, I closed my eyes and drifted off with him.
I jolted awake the next morning when a blast of music shot out of the house. Gunner jerked to attention beside me, and we both fumbled into each other, nearly falling out of the hammock. When we recovered from the scare, I was folded up underneath him, confused and disoriented.
The door to the back porch slammed open, and the angry man stuck his head out. “Rise and shine, boys!”
Gunner groaned and pressed his forehead against mine. “This asshole again…” he muttered.
I pulled my body out from underneath him, rummaging around on the floor until I found my glasses. “Well, we did break into his house.”
The heavy metal blasting over the stereo was loud and obnoxious enough that I couldn’t even consider falling back asleep. Instead, I dragged myself out of the hammock, yanking my wrinkled clothes on and taking a second to fold up the sheet and blanket while Gunner dressed himself. “We’ll just take care of that fallen tree and hit the road,” he muttered, placing his hand on my back to guide me into the house.
Inside, I was surprised to see the guy up and going already. The storm had passed, and the forest was quiet again. I had assumed I would wake up at seven on the dot like usual, but seeing how much light was shining through the windows, I realized I must have slept in. He was standing at the stove, tending to some bacon and eggs. His chest was bare, and a pair of tight-fitting jeans hung off his hips. He was a solid, sturdy man, with thick muscles and dark, curly hairs across his chest. His tattoos were faded but still crisp enough to catch my a
ttention. His whole left arm was covered with an intricate design in black and white, with snakes and vines entwining behind a motorcycle.
Mainly, though, I couldn’t help but stare at his face. His eyes were a piercing blue color, and his pupils looked brilliant beside the worn creases of his crow’s feet. His lips were full and thick, and the square of his jaw was so strongly defined that I accidentally stood there, my mouth hanging slack while I studied the gorgeous cleft in his perfect chin.
Sexy didn’t begin to describe this guy.
“There’s coffee in the pot,” he said, gesturing to the counter. “Eggs and bacon will be ready in a minute.”
Gunner and I shared a skeptical look. Then Gunner shrugged and grabbed us each a cup of coffee. I tentatively sat down at the counter, pulling a stool up and pushing aside a pile of junk mail. The guy turned back to the stove, and I caught Gunner admiring the broad curves and muscles of his shoulders.
“What’s your name, anyway?” I asked, taking a sip from the mug.
“Maddox,” he said, turning around with a couple small plates of food in his hand, then sliding them to us.
The music was still pumping, and the more I woke up, the more it started to grate on me, the thrashing of the guitar like the beginning of a headache. “Could you turn it down a little?” I asked hesitantly, gesturing toward the speaker.
Gunner scoffed. “What are you talking about? This is a classic.”
Maddox grabbed a remote from the counter, hitting a couple of buttons to turn the stereo down. “It is a classic,” he said, “but I only had it cranked up to get you two out of bed. It’s getting late in the day.”
“And that’s why you made us breakfast, too?” Gunner asked sarcastically. “To make sure we had a healthy start to our busy day?”
I flinched at his tone, but Maddox just chuckled, grabbing his own cup of coffee and leaning back against the stove. “I could have just locked the doors and ignored you until you went away. Would that have been better for you, Gunner?”
Gunner just looked down at his plate, then popped a piece of bacon in his mouth.
“Thanks for making us breakfast instead,” I said.
Maddox smiled, then pointed at me. “You’re the polite one. Maybe your boyfriend could learn some manners from you.”
“We’re not boyfriends,” Gunner and I said at the same time.
Maddox laughed again. “Call yourselves whatever you want. But it looked like you both were getting pretty damn intimate on my couch last night.”
“It was just a date,” Gunner said.
Maddox shrugged. “I’ve been on some dates, and a few of them ended up in a pretty similar position to the one you all were in. I just never broke into some stranger’s house to do it. You all from around here or something?”
“Seattle,” I said, but before I could keep talking, Gunner grabbed my knee to stop me.
“What do you care where we live?” he asked.
Maddox shook his head, and I worried that he was going to lose his patience. After a second, however, he just chuckled. “You’re really something else, you know that? Here you are, sitting in my house and eating my food, and you’re still acting like I’m the asshole.” He shook his head one more time, then grabbed a couple of pieces of bacon off the plate. “But it’s not like I want you here in the first place. You’re so eager to get away from me? Fine.” He walked over to the door, grabbing a pair of work gloves that were hanging on a hook and tossing them to Gunner and almost making him fumble his coffee.
“What’s this?” Gunner asked.
“You’re going to help me clear that branch in the road. And as soon as we’re done, we’ll all get exactly what we want.”
“What’s that?” I asked.
Maddox shoved the bacon in his mouth, chewing as he talked. “Your asses, off of my property. Now get moving, Gunner. Your boyfriend is a polite guy, but he’s not going to wait forever.”
Chapter Fourteen
Gunner
Maddox emerged from his toolshed, a chainsaw in one hand and a crate of tools and supplies in the other. The forests were wet from the rain, and the air felt muggy. He hefted the chainsaw in the air, and his muscles rippled as he showed it to me.
“You sure you know how to work this thing?” he asked.
“Yeah, man,” I said. “I know how to work a fucking chainsaw. I told you, I’m on a demolition crew.”
Maddox rolled his eyes, clearly not impressed, and tossed the crate to the ground. “Go ahead and get this ready to use, then. It shouldn’t take us more than hour or two to clear that branch, but it was a big one. We need this sharpened up and running smoothly.”
I sighed, then reached out and took the old chainsaw from him, the weight of it pulling heavily on my shoulder. Poking around in the box, it looked like I had everything I needed. With Maddox staring at me, though, I needed a second to clear my head. Pulling a cigarette out of my pocket and popping it between my lips, I stepped back from the machine to light up.
“You do this often?” Maddox asked.
“What? Smoke cigarettes or work a chainsaw?”
“Break into stranger’s houses to impress cuties like Malcolm.”
I took a drag off my smoke, taking my time to answer him. Maddox seemed to get off on bossing me around and putting me in my place. After all my experience with the demolition crew, I could handle guys like him. But the second he laid his eyes on Malcolm, I got defensive and protective.
I could make Malcolm tremble and whimper with a glance, and when we really got down to business, he came undone in my hands so fast I could hardly handle it. But then here came Maddox, stronger and tougher, like an older and improved version of me. The more he bossed me around, the more I worried Malcolm was going to stop buying my act and see me the same way every other guy saw me.
Fuck. I should have picked a different house.
“I’ve done it a few times before,” I answered, exaggerating a bit for his benefit. “Malcolm and I just met, but he’s really into me.”
“How’d you meet him?”
I scoffed. “What, you want to hear a love story now?”
“Humor me,” he said, leaning against the tool shed. “If you’re going to make me stand here and watch you smoke a cigarette, tell me a story to pass the time.”
After he said it, he stretched his arms over his head, and his T-shirt rose up to reveal the hard, rippling muscles of his abs.
This would all be a lot easier if he weren’t so fucking hot.
I shrugged. “He was looking for an apartment, and I was looking for a job. Not much more to the story than that.” I dropped the cigarette to the ground, stubbing it out with my boot. When Maddox glared at me, I bent down and shoved the butt into my pocket before returning to the chainsaw.
“I thought you already had a job, demolition man.”
I pulled out the file to start sharpening the chainsaw, occasionally stopping to rub some dirty oil or blockage off the teeth. “I do have a job, and I’m looking for another one. I’ve been doing demolition since I turned eighteen. With a fancy house like this, you probably don’t know what it’s like to work, but I’m ready for a damn change.”
“Why are you sure I didn’t earn this house myself?”
I looked up, catching a half-grin on his face. “Oh yeah? What did you do for work, then? Because riding your motorcycle across the country can’t pay the bills.”
He shrugged. “Not much. Bank robbing, extortion, that kind of thing.”
“Whatever,” I said sarcastically, rolling my eyes and returning to the task. “I’ll keep an eye on the FBI most wanted posters when I get back to the city. Maybe I’ll catch your mugshot.”
Maddox squatted down so that he was on my level. “Okay, so maybe I didn’t rob any banks. I did sometimes break into places I shouldn’t be, though.”
I finished sharpening the blades and used the rag to wipe my hands off. “Oh, yeah?”
“Trying to impress Declan,” he
said. “That was my boyfriend when I was your age and a little bit younger. We never went for vacation homes, but there was a mansion in Seattle we used to break into.”
I pulled out the air filter, blowing on it a few times to clear it. I felt caught off-guard by Maddox admitting so plainly that he was gay. I guess it shouldn’t have been surprising for him to do that, considering he’d caught me burying my face in Malcolm’s hole. But hearing him say that made the whole thing we were doing feel very different.
“You did not break into a mansion,” I said, trying to sound casual.
“Sure did. They had a great pool, too. Pro tip from Maddox. Next time you’re trying to impress someone, choose a house with a pool.”
I fumbled around in the crate, pulling out a little bottle of bar and chain oil as well as the gasoline. “Or at least a place where we could get a little privacy,” I said.
Maddox rose back up to his feet, chuckling to himself. “Damn, you sure are a feisty one. I get it, though. You got your special guy here, and you thought you were going to have a long evening to yourselves. You’re just lucky it was me who busted in on you. Any of the other residents here would have been calling the police and pressing charges so fast your head would spin. I’m just making you clean my chainsaw.”
I sighed again and then poured a little gasoline into the machine. I hated being lectured by him, but as he towered above me, I couldn’t deny there was something that felt good about it, too. I’d always been defiant when someone tried to tell me what to do, whether that was my asshole father ordering me around or the teachers at my school, trying to embarrass me and make me feel bad just because I struggled with the math homework or some shit.