by E M Lindsey
Spencer forgot all about his aching feet and leaned back. “No. It’s perfect.” Robert leapt off the pile of blankets and pranced over to Spencer where he collapsed next to him, half in his lap.
“Someone likes you.”
“Probably smells his thirty cats.” Max laughed and flipped another pancake.
When Max wasn’t being a dipshit, he wasn’t half bad looking, Spencer thought. And watching the men at the stove cooking together, he thought they looked good together. It made his gut ache to see them like that. They looked like the perfect couple. The buff British mountain man and his younger, but equally hot, lover.
“Thirty cats?” Collin asked.
“He runs a shelter.” Max said and Spencer thought it might’ve been the first time Max spoke about him without any snark or animosity. “You were going to tell me about Rusty.”
“Oh, yeah.” Spencer looked down at Robert and scratched him between the ears. He wasn’t sure how anyone or anything could sleep with the storm raging outside, but the little goat managed. “I take cats that can’t find homes, for whatever reason, and they live at the center. Of course we want to get them homes, but if we can’t, well, they stay there and I look after them. Rusty was my first rescue. He was a feisty little kitten who lost half his tail and the tips of his ears to frostbite. He’s this big fat orange marshmallow now. He’ll do anything for food.”
“And you have thirty?”
“Most are from kill shelters. Older cats or special needs animals are hard to find forever homes for.” Spencer tried not to think about his cats right now. He wanted to be back there with them.
“What do you do outside of the shelter?” Max asked.
“Nothing. The shelter is my job. I run it as a non-profit organization.” Spencer never cared much if people knew his financial situation was far better than most people’s, but for some reason, he didn’t want Collin or Max to think of him as some trust fund brat. It could be because he’d already made an ass of himself all day long. He was a whiny crybaby who’d acted like a child about goats that didn’t exist. He didn’t need to add spoiled brat to the list of impressions he’d made.
He turned his attention toward his feet instead. They felt worse than they looked and he wasn’t sure what good a first aid kit would do, but he fussed with it anyway. The other two finished cooking and Collin brought him a plate.
“Here. Can I get you a drink?”
“I’m fine.” Spencer took the plate and laughed when Robert suddenly woke and tried to steal a pancake.
“Get down, you little beast.” Collin scooped Robert up and put him on the floor. “Stay down or I’ll lock you in the bedroom.”
Robert didn’t seem to care much what Collin thought because he hopped up onto the couch again with far more ease than Spencer would’ve expected for a three-legged goat.
“Robert,” Collin chastised.
Spencer tucked Robert in against his side. “Stay.”
Robert didn’t move.
“Well, looks like we have a genuine goat whisperer.” Max said. He took a seat on the other end of the couch. The power flickered, but didn’t go out.
Collin made short work of his bacon and pancakes. “Anyone cold? I don’t usually need a fire this time of year, but this weather’s a bit nastier than usual.”
“A fire would be nice.” Spencer admitted. And romantic, but he kept that thought to himself. There wasn’t anything romantic about dying in a storm. Spencer shuddered.
“You okay?” Max asked.
“I’m fine.” It would be a dark day in hell before he admitted to how scared he was. He’d always been on the sensitive side and there wasn’t a thing he could do to change it. And most of the time he tried to embrace who he was, but being teased, even as a grown assed man, wasn’t something he dealt with well. Obviously, or he wouldn't have booked this ridiculous trip in the first place.
Lightning struck and thunder clapped. Spencer shrieked as the power blinked out, and his heart slammed against his ribs as he clung to Robert. A lantern came to life, lighting up the room. Spencer was scared shitless, but thankful that they weren’t stuck outside in the howling wind and pouring rain.
“You don’t do well in storms, eh?” Max asked. He stood and unfurled a blanket and draped it around Spencer.
Spencer clung to the blanket, though part of him wanted to throw it off, it was heavy and warm and he liked the comfort it provided. “My parents died in a storm like this.”
Max went white. “Shit. I’m sorry.”
“I’m kidding. I just don’t like storms. Or snakes, or bugs, or big animals that could kill me.”
“Or assholes with giant chips on their shoulder.” Max smiled at Spencer and he supposed it was a nice smile, not at all creepy, and there was a dimple. Spencer was a sucker for dimples. He supposed it was an apology of sorts and if Spencer were going to be stuck in a cabin with Max for who knows how long, there was no point in making things awkward.
“Well, I don’t see one of those here. So I’m safe.”
“I’m glad you feel that way,” Collin said as he fussed with the fire. “Because we’re going to be here awhile.”
And that’s when it struck Spencer that he was going to be trapped in a cabin overnight, with no power, a three-legged goat, a formerly angry jerk, and a way too sexy for Spencer’s own good guide. Although it was better than the tent, he didn’t know whether to feel happy or terrified. Apparently it was possible to feel both. Spencer wrapped the blanket tighter and wondered if he’d get any sleep that night.
Chapter 15
Max, Spencer, Collin, and the king size bed
As the night wore on, Spencer began to look worse for wear. The food hadn’t done much for his color, and he’d chattered nervously through every thunderclap and bolt of lightning. Collin had done his best to soothe Spencer’s worries, but Max could see in their faces that Spencer wasn’t convinced, and neither was Collin. The rain poured harder against the roof of Collin’s cabin. Robert had even skittered off to hide somewhere, and that had left Spencer absolutely reeling.
“What’s the, uh...sleeping situation?” Max asked after a long yawn.
Even in the dim light of the cabin, Max could see Collin’s cheeks flush. “I don’t have a lot of guests.”
“So, there’s only one bed is what you’re saying.”
“Yeah.”
“Does the couch fold out?” he asked.
Collin shook his head.
“It’s comfortable,” Spencer blurted. He was tucked into the corner of the sectional, his legs pulled up to his chest and a nest of blankets wrapped around him. “I don’t mind sleeping on the couch, the two of you can take the bed. It makes more sense that way anyway, I mean look at you.”
Beneath the cocoon of blankets, Max was fairly certain Spencer gestured at them as he’d seen a little lift in the flannel material, but he couldn’t be sure.
“What are you implying?” Collin asked, a hint of amusement coloring the question.
“You two,” Spencer mumbled, the explanation stifled by a yawn. He kicked his way out of the blankets and stood up. He was wearing a pair of Collin’s sweatpants that were far too large for him and even with the drawstring pulled tight, they barely rode the lowest point of his hips. The shirt he wore didn’t even come close to bridging the gap and Max found himself visually assaulted by the pale strip of Spencer’s bare skin.
He sucked in a sharp breath and looked away, finding Collin’s eyes trained on the same swath of smooth stomach he’d just been watching. Max cleared his throat and Collin startled, making brief eye contact with him before bending over and gathering up all the blankets Spencer had displaced.
“What about us?” Max asked.
Spencer muttered something and snatched the blankets from Collin and fanned them over the now exposed length of the couch.
“Are you making yourself a bed?” he asked, but Spencer didn’t acknowledge him. He continued to talk a mile a minute. Max looked t
o Collin. “What’s he doing?”
“Not sure, mate.” Collin scrubbed a hand over the back of his neck and watched Spencer work.
Max’s chest seized with an unexpected surge of worry and an unexplained urge to hold Spencer until the storm passed. He didn’t know why. Max hadn’t ever been a terribly physical person in his relationships, which had been a sticking point for Trent, but something he thought they’d worked past.
He frowned, thinking about Trent and the meaningless band in his pocket soured his mood. Max swallowed and turned his attention back to Spencer, who was somehow still fiddling with the blankets. Max wondered if Collin had any other blankets or if Spencer had taken them all, then he briefly wondered where he would sleep. He cast another sidelong glance at Collin, whose eyes were focused on Max’s profile. Collin licked his lips and looked away, choosing instead to stare at the wall.
“My bed is a king,” Collin said softly. “We could probably share it.”
Heat flared in Max’s gut and he cleared his throat.
“I don’t think that’s the best idea.”
Collin gestured to the nest Spencer was building on the couch. “Do you have any better suggestions? Maybe the bathtub?”
Max tried to not think about sharing a bed with another man. He wondered if Collin ran hot, if his skin would burn Max’s fingers if he reached out in the dark beneath the sheets. He balled his hands into fists and crossed his arms over his chest.
“Gotta brush,” Spencer said, disappearing down the hallway. The faucet turned on, and the sounds of a toothbrush against teeth filtered back into the living room.
“I don’t think sharing a bed is a good idea,” Max whispered, unable to address the underlying reason. He silently cursed his base nature as the answer drifted between him and Collin. He was in love with Trent, or at least he had been, and how easily he would forsake that commitment at the idea of a warm body or two in the middle of a storm?
“Just for sleeping,” Collin said.
Why was this attraction here now? At the most inconvenient time possible? The storm was messing with his head. That was all. The forced proximity and the fear and uncertainty was working to rile them all up, and he just had to bide his time and wait for the storm to pass. Nevermind his heart had skipped beats all day, even as he’d groaned and grumbled about Spencer’s lack of preparedness. He’d found the younger man’s tenacity endearing, and if he was being honest, Max was jealous of the focus and dedication Spencer had. For the trip, for his cats, for keeping himself sane through his fear.
Thunder rolled and lightning struck simultaneously, the bolt lighting up the house it was so close. The sound of it connecting with a tree outside was loud enough to send a screaming Spencer back into the living room. He ran into Max, his entire body shaking like a leaf in the storm. His eyes were wide and he was talking, but nothing he said made sense.
“I think he might be going into shock,” Collin offered.
Max gripped Spencer’s biceps and stepped back. He didn’t think Spencer was going into shock, but he was going somewhere, that was for sure.
“Spencer,” Max said, giving him a little shake.
Spencer blinked up at him, the barrage of words slowing, but not stopping.
“Spencer, you’ve gotta stop.”
He didn’t stop. Max looked helplessly at Collin, who looked just as befuddled and unsure of what to do.
“Spencer,” he tried again, to no avail. He could feel Spencer’s pulse racing, and he hated how helpless he felt. He’d been helpless to stop Trent from leaving and he was tired of being a bystander in his own life. A burst of rain exploded above them and pounded against the ceiling so hard, Max couldn’t even hear himself think anymore.
A tear slipped down Spencer’s cheek and Max made up his mind.
“Spencer, come on,” he coaxed, and another tear slid its way down Spencer’s flushed cheek.
Max took a deep breath and bent down, pressing their mouths together. Spencer gasped and stilled. Max pulled back, but Spencer chased him, his arms coming quick around Max’s shoulders as he climbed up Max’s front to kiss him a second time.
“I didn’t mean for…” Max tried to explain, but Spencer’s lips were there again, his tongue, so soft and insistent as it searched for entry, and Max yielded to him. Max would have done anything in that moment to ease Spencer’s fears and it worked, because after a moment, Spencer kissed him like he was fearless. He moaned into Max’s mouth and Max could feel the growing push of an erection against his thigh.
Behind him, Collin grunted, and Spencer tore himself away from Max, a hand raising to cover his kiss-swollen mouth.
“I’m so sorry,” Spencer whispered.
Max dragged his fingertips across his lower lip, still wet with Spencer’s saliva. “I shouldn’t have kissed you first without asking,” he apologized, “I just didn’t know how to get you out of your head.”
Spencer furrowed his brows and folded his arms over his chest, taking an immediately defensive pose against him.
“Right,” he said, forcing an eye roll. “Just a distraction.”
“That’s not entirely it,” Max corrected with a shrug.
“Didn’t look like a distraction,” Collin offered up from behind him. Max shot him a death stare, but instead of backing down, Collin stepped up beside him.
Spencer gestured vaguely to the couch, then collapsed onto it, wrapping himself in the blankets to hide the erection Max knew he’d felt when they’d kissed.
“Are you going to be okay out here?” Collin asked.
“Fine. Fine. Much better now,” Spencer assured them, his face the only part of his body exposed through the blanket wrap he’d made for himself. “Would you just...would you send Robert out here if you find him?”
Collin huffed out a quiet laugh and nodded. “Yeah. I’ll send him your way. Come find me if you need anything, alright?”
Spencer rolled onto his side and burrowed into the corner of the couch. Max traced the curve of Spencer’s hip beneath the blankets, his attention only faltering when Collin moved beside him.
“Are you coming?” Collin headed down the hallway toward the bedroom, and Max begrudgingly followed.
“I thought you were joking about sharing the bed,” Max said once they were both inside Collin’s bedroom. Collin reached past Max’s shoulder and pushed the door closed.
“Not joking,” he said roughly.
Collin sat down on the edge of the bed and worked the laces on his boots loose, using his socked feet to push them beneath the dust ruffle. He unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it onto the foot of the bed, then looked up at Max.
“Are you going to stand there all night?”
‘Uh. I, uh…” Max rubbed at the base of his throat and closed his eyes. Everything inside of him was running on overdrive. From the kiss he hadn’t meant to give Spencer, to the arousal he’d felt between his own legs when Spencer had moaned so sweetly against him, to the throbbing he still felt, even now watching Collin undress before him.
Max wasn’t sure he wouldn’t fare better if he were to go drown himself in the river. He’d already changed clothes earlier, and the pants he’d borrowed from Collin’s drawer did little to hide the evidence of his interest. Collin focused in on the point between his legs with the same dedicated intensity he’d offered that deliciously pale strip of Spencer’s abdomen in the living room.
“You all right there, Max?” Collin asked, standing up. “You look like you might be going into shock over there yourself.”
Max shook his head, and Collin closed the space between them. They were practically the same height, but Collin was built better with a broad chest and stronger arms. Max closed his eyes and when he inhaled a breath through his nose, it trembled and smelled of Collin.
“I’m fine,” he lied.
“I don’t know.” Collin raised a tentative hand and when Max didn’t move away, he flattened it against his chest, flexing his fingertips against the thin material of h
is borrowed t-shirt. “You look like you need to get out of your head. But I don’t think that has much to do with the storm.”
Max squeezed his eyes shut and Collin pressed him against the door. The soft brush of the front of Collin’s pants against his painful erection was all he needed to finalize the decision in his head. He opened his eyes and found Collin studying him intently, his stare heavy and thoughtful, the lines around his eyes the only thing that betrayed his age.
“Max.”
His name sounded so much nicer on Collin’s tongue when Collin wasn’t scolding him for poking fun at Spencer.
“Say it again,” he whispered.
Collin leaned in close, his breath floating across Max’s parted mouth.
“Max,” Collin practically purred, the lilt of his accent barely noticeable when he spoke that low.
“Collin.”
“I’d like to kiss you.”
Max nodded, and Collin did.
Chapter 16
Collin finds a way to make Max relax
Collin was worked up beyond reason as he led Max into his bedroom, and it had been ages since he’d almost lost control. Things with Grant had been vanilla for so long. There was an itch lodged so deep inside him he wasn’t sure he’d ever scratch, but here he was with two unbelievably gorgeous, younger men, and the sexual tension was thick enough to cut with a knife.
Watching Spencer and Max had been better than any fantasy or porn, and it hadn’t gone beyond a simple kiss. He stood there, his body aching to move closer, to touch, to take control, but he didn’t let himself. The moment between Max and Spencer was heated—and there was far more to it than mere distraction, but he knew the pair of them needed to get there on their own.
Spencer was worked up, half in shock, and Collin only left him there on the sofa because he knew he wouldn’t stay there for long. With Max behind his closed door, with their bodies pressed from chest to hips, it was enough. For now.
“I’d like to kiss you,” he said. The words surprised him, even if they weren’t a lie, because as much as the two men had been beyond frustrating all bloody day, they’d also set him on edge in ways no one ever had. Not even Grant. And it had only been a day since they first set foot on the trail. God only knew what would happen as the night wore on.