Carnal Compromise

by Robin L. Rotham

  The kiss gentled abruptly, and Joe’s tongue made a tentative foray into his mouth, searching, but he didn’t take, didn’t demand. He invited, lured…begged for a response, and Brent was too much in love not to give it. He sucked Joe’s tongue deeper, needing to know his taste as deeply, as intimately as he knew Ariel’s. Like nothing else, this kiss convinced him the three of them belonged together, and finally he had hope, because how could something this right not turn out the way it was supposed to?

  Joe started moving again, sliding out of him slowly and easing back in just a little, an apology for his earlier rough treatment that Brent accepted without hesitation, if not considerable discomfort. Shaking his other leg loose from Joe’s grasp, he hooked both ankles behind his heavy thighs and tried to pull him deeper again. His own cock had long ago lost interest and the fierce fire ringing his ass told him there’d be no orgasm for him tonight, but that didn’t concern him. He hadn’t attacked Joe because he needed to come, but because he needed Joe. Now that he had him, he didn’t want to miss a thing.

  It hadn’t escaped his notice that, intentionally or not, Joe had foregone a condom. That said a lot about either Joe’s loss of control or the level of his trust, or maybe both.

  Mouth to his mouth, chest to his chest, belly to his belly, they fucked—for the first time, maybe for the last.

  Holding Joe close, Brent stored up every breathless, open-mouthed kiss, every drop of sweat dripping on his face, every tremor shaking the man between his legs, every anxious gasp and grunt, and in the end, even every lick of white-hot pain that Joe’s uncontrolled final thrusts wreaked in his battered ass. He committed to memory the feel of Joe’s huge, hairy body curving into an arc of stone as he came and the painful jerking of his cock as he pumped hot semen deep into him.

  And he prayed for the strength to keep the man he loved from walking away.

  AJ yanked her duffel out of the top of the cupboard and started packing methodically but quickly, trying in vain to block out the sounds of passion echoing in the camper. She’d known this day would come, had fantasized about it countless times, but the reality of Joe fucking Brent was so far removed from her erotic fantasies it was almost comical. Hard to believe she’d ever been that naïve.

  She stuffed in her few dirty clothes from the collapsible hamper, then her coveralls, tennis shoes, underwear and socks, and finally her pajamas, jeans and shirts on top. It didn’t take long to pack so little, and as she sat on the edge of the bunk and pulled on a pair of clean socks, AJ thought with regret of the pair of socks and bra on the floor in Brent’s room. She really didn’t want to shell out the money to replace them, but she couldn’t go back in there. There was no way she could face them again knowing that they’d finally managed to connect with each other, and that their need for a buffer—their need for her—was gone.

  They’d probably keep her on, she knew, even after they’d worked through all their problems. They weren’t cruel—they liked her well enough and were even genuinely attracted to her, and God knew, they could use a good hand right now with Seth, and maybe Tim, out for the rest of the season. But they didn’t love her the way they loved each other, and she couldn’t bear to be the spare, the one they could live without.

  Brent had summed it up nicely—Stay out of it, AJ. They were fine with her hanging around on the fringes but she would never be an integral part of their relationship.

  Well screw them. She was better than that. It had taken her some time to see it, but she was worthy of love and respect and devotion, and she damn well wouldn’t settle for anything less again.

  After she pulled on her boots, she unplugged her laptop and packed it into its case. Stepping into the bathroom, she swept her brush and all her toiletries into her overnight bag, then crammed it into the duffel and cinched it tight. She thought about leaving a note saying she’d let them know where to mail her final check and then decided against it. She didn’t deserve a final check, leaving them without notice when they were already shorthanded.

  Shrugging into her coat, she heaved the duffel over one shoulder and her laptop over the other, then pulled her cap on and tugged the bill down low over her eyes. After taking one last look around to make sure she hadn’t missed anything, she turned off the lights. The sounds of Brent and Joe’s passion still drifted from the bedroom as she opened the door and stepped into the night.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Joe woke suddenly and rolled off Brent with a muffled curse.

  “Shit, why’d you let me fall asleep like that? I must have been crushing you.”

  Brent shrugged, his expression watchful. “I didn’t mind,” he said neutrally.

  Avoiding his eyes self-consciously, Joe rose without a word and left the room. A moment later, he came back in with a handful of damp paper towels.

  “Spread ’em,” he said, sitting down and lifting one of Brent’s limp legs.

  “I can take care of myself,” Brent said, resisting, trying to sit up.

  “I know you can, but I want to have a look and make sure nothing’s torn,” Joe said grudgingly. “I was too rough on you.”

  “I asked for it.”

  “You asked to be fucked, not raped.” When Brent opened his mouth, Joe added, “And don’t say you can’t rape the willing, ’cause when it comes to fucking a virgin asshole, yes, you sure as hell can.”

  Brent leaned back with a sigh and pulled a knee up and back.

  “Dammit, I knew it—there’s some blood on the sheet.” Joe pressed the cool, damp towel against his abused hole and then pulled back to show it to Brent.

  “It’s just a couple of smudges. I’ll live.”

  Joe used the other damp towels to clean him up without a word, careful not to scrape his sore tissue, then he tossed them into the trash can beside the bed. Resting his elbows on his knees, he shook his head. “I didn’t use a condom, you didn’t come, and I left you bleeding. I’m batting a thousand tonight.”

  “So you’ll do better next time.”

  Joe looked at him. “There won’t be a next time. This doesn’t change anything.”

  “The hell it doesn’t.”

  “We fucked, Brent. That’s it. Don’t try to make it into something more.” He scowled as he stood up. “Maybe it’s time for me to move on.”

  “You’re so screwed, dude. You think it’s going to be easier to walk away than to stay? That boat sailed last week when we fucked AJ together. The three of us belong together, and somewhere inside that messed-up head, you know it.” Brent folded his hands behind his head. “But go ahead, walk away. You’ll find out love sucks just as bad when you give it up as when it’s taken away—sucks worse, maybe, because you know you could have done something about it.”

  Joe opened his mouth but Brent waved a hand. “Go on, walk. AJ and I will be here when you finally realize you can’t live without us.”

  Fear grabbed Joe by the throat. Jesus, what if he was right?

  “Dammit,” he ground out, “if you really cared about me, you wouldn’t ask me to take that kind of risk again. It nearly killed me…it did kill me to lose my family that way. I can’t go through that again.”

  Brent leaned up on one elbow. “We’re all going to die sooner or later. You know that. God knows, I’d feel like dying myself if anything happened to you or AJ,” he said, “but I can’t let fear of losing you keep me from enjoying what time I have with you. If I found out tomorrow that one of you only had a few months to live, I’d want to spend every minute with you. And then, after I had time to grieve, I’d want to celebrate what we had together.

  “Have you ever celebrated your son’s life, Joe?” he asked urgently. “You never told me that you had a son. Hell, I still don’t even know his name. I don’t know if he wanted to be a farmer or a fireman, if he played sports, if he looked like you… You need to let go of the horror of his death and hang on to what made him a great kid. With you as a dad, I know he had to be.”

  Joe held up a trembling hand. “Stop.
I need time, I need—”

  “To let us love you.”

  “I’m the one who got my son killed, Brent!” he roared. “I don’t deserve anyone’s fucking love!”

  Brent’s head tipped to one side. “I thought you said he ran a stop sign.”

  Joe took a shaky breath and nodded. “He did, because I taught him to. I ran that fucking stop sign all the time. Unless the corn was too tall to see over, I just slowed down and looked both ways and then blew right through the intersection. He got into the same habit, and it killed him. I knew it, my wife knew it—the accident was my fault. Mine.”

  He swallowed hard. If Travis had survived, he would be almost the same age as Ryan Stivers. Watching that confident young man lounge in his seat and eat his mother’s home cooking and laugh with his family, so happy and whole and vibrantly alive…

  Jesus, he missed his son. The rawness of his yearning was unbearable.

  “But obviously he didn’t learn everything from you, did he?” Brent cut in quietly. “If he had, he’d have looked both ways before he went on through. You can’t take responsibility for his bad decisions.”

  “The courts hold parents accountable for their kids’ actions all the time,” Joe said thickly.

  “He had a school permit, right? Did he read the driver’s manual?”

  “Of course he did, but—”

  “But nothing, Joe. He knew he was supposed to stop. He took a foolish chance and it cost him his life. And you’ve been paying for it ever since, haven’t you? That’s why you’re always all over the younger guys about following procedure.”

  “So are you,” Joe pointed out.

  “I’m their boss—it’s my job,” Brent said.

  Joe shuddered, shaking his head in denial.

  “Joe, did your dad run stop signs?”

  “No,” he said flatly. “He was the county sheriff.”

  “You did, though.”

  “I know what you’re getting at, Brent, and yeah, I did it all the time. He chewed my ass up one side and down the other for it, too. Took away my truck for a summer. But I still should have been a better example for Travis. I never wanted to be just like my old man. Travis did.”

  And that had bugged the hell out of Caroline. In his more objective moments, he could admit that she probably wouldn’t have been so quick to leave him if a mountain of resentments hadn’t already piled up between them over the years. The rugged stoicism she’d been so attracted to, and even teased him about in the beginning, had gradually become a source of tension between them. She’d thought marriage to a decent woman would civilize him somehow, make him more sensitive and solicitous. He’d figured she knew he was a farmer when she married him and couldn’t figure out why she suddenly expected him to be someone different.

  When Travis showed signs of being every inch his father’s son, her resentment deepened, but Joe had just kept his head down and his nose to the grindstone, confident that given enough time and effort, they’d understand each other better and learn to appreciate their differences. Travis’ death had been the end of that dream. An eternity wasn’t long enough for his wife to forgive him—or for him to forgive himself.

  “You know as well as I do that it probably wouldn’t have mattered one damn bit if you’d stopped at every single stop sign you ever met.” Brent argued. “Young men all think they’re bulletproof. Look at Seth. We didn’t just preach those safety rules at him, we lived them for him every single goddamn day and he still thought he was immune to getting pulled into the machinery.”

  “I know.” Joe sighed. “God, I wanted to kill the little bastard myself for putting his brother through that.”

  “Tim will probably never be the same,” Brent agreed. “But I tell you what—Seth will never make that mistake again. From here on out, he’ll show those rotors the respect they deserve, and he’ll probably ride every guy he works with to do the same. Maybe he’ll even save a few lives—I doubt any of our guys will ever go near a rotor without powering down again.”

  After a long pause, Joe confessed, “It’s hard not to hate Dietz for getting a second chance. What the hell did he ever do to deserve it?”

  “He tried to protect AJ,” Brent pointed out softly, “so that’s one big point in his favor. It still doesn’t seem fair, though, does it?”

  “No, it doesn’t.” His throat tightened again. “When I was sixteen, I was driving too fast on the gravel and put my truck upside down in the ditch. I wasn’t wearing a seat belt but I walked away with nothing more than a concussion. How come a miserable bastard like me gets a second chance, and a stubborn little shit like Dietz gets a second chance, but my son…”

  When his throat got too thick to go on, Brent shook his head. “Only the good Lord knows, Joe, and He’s not sayin’. But none of us are ever guaranteed a second chance. That’s why we’ve got to grab hold of this love while we can.”

  Joe closed his eyes against the tears and the shaking in his chest. Christ, he was so damn tempted to just give in and take whatever Brent and AJ offered for however long it lasted. It wasn’t lost on him that if he’d ever been able to talk to his wife this way, she might never have left him. Already he could feel the guilt easing, the burden lightening simply through the sharing of it.

  But it felt dishonorable to accept their love and comfort when he had so little to offer in return. Could he be what they needed any more than he’d been what Caroline needed? What if he failed them the way he’d failed his family? He couldn’t bear to see the kind of recrimination on their faces he’d seen on Caroline’s, and he couldn’t bear to lose them once he’d let them in. His heart just couldn’t take it again.

  “Just give—” He cleared his throat. “Just give me a little time, okay? I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  He walked out without looking at Brent and trudged heavily through the camper. But the minute he stepped into the bunkroom and flipped on the light, he knew something was wrong. AJ wasn’t there and her bed was made.

  He opened her top drawer and cursed. It was empty.

  She’d left them.

  Feeling sick, he strode back to the master bedroom. Brent hadn’t moved from the bed, and he frowned when he saw Joe’s face.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “AJ’s gone.”

  Brent sat straight up. “Gone? What do you mean, gone?”

  “All her stuff’s gone—clothes, computer, everything.” Joe shot him a pointed look. “I don’t suppose you told her you loved her?”

  Brent’s mind went blank for a minute. “Shit! You don’t think she…” Then he closed his eyes and counted to ten before he hopped off the bed. “God dammit, I’m going to tan her little ass for running off like this.”

  “You’ll have to get in line behind me.”

  When the elevator door opened, AJ hitched her stuff higher on her tired shoulders and made her way toward the nurse’s station. Since she’d arrived in Sioux Falls at the ungodly hour of 2:30 a.m. and had nowhere to go until Seth’s surgery at 6:30, she’d just pulled into a rest area and dozed in the pickup.

  Now her eyes were gritty from crying and lack of sleep, and she had a crick in her neck from curling up sideways on the bench seat, but she wanted to get Tim’s keys to him so that she could get out of here and get on with her life. Where she was going, she wasn’t sure. She might be able to hire on with another custom farm company, though she wouldn’t list Brent as a reference after running out like that. Or she could try to find work as a hired hand, but in her experience, farmers and ranchers were even less interested in hiring a woman than custom outfits were.

  Mandy’s offer came to mind but she dismissed it immediately. As much as she adored both Mandy and Hake, being with them would tear her apart, especially when Brent and Joe came back around. This needed to be a clean break, for all their sakes. She’d find something, make her way somehow. She always had. And she wouldn’t touch a penny of her savings to do it. One of these days, she was going to have her own farm again, her own ho
me, with horses and dogs and cats, and maybe even a man who’d love her just for herself.

  When she asked about Seth, the nurse pointed her down the hall toward the surgery waiting area, which was surprisingly full given the hour. She didn’t even have to look for Tim—he saw her first and stood up.

  “AJ, what are you doing here?” he asked. She held out the keys and he pocketed them with a puzzled look. “Thanks. I thought Keith and Eric were bringing it up.”

  “Plans changed.” She set her stuff down next to an empty chair and turned to give him a hug. “How are you?”

  “Okay, I guess. Scared. Can you stay for a while? Have you eaten anything?”

  She looked at the clock on the wall, and then wondered why. Where did she have to be? Nowhere so important she couldn’t sit with a friend while his only brother was in surgery.

  “Yeah, I can stay for a while.” His look of relief broke her heart. “And I could use a cup of coffee or something. I just need to find the ladies’ first.”

  He pointed at the far wall where men’s and women’s doors were side by side. “You can leave your stuff here if you want. I’ll watch it.”

  AJ took off her coat and left all her belongings on the chair beside him while she went in and took care of business. Washing her hands, she noticed how pale and crappy she looked, so she took the time to splash cold water on her face. The shock of it put some life back into her eyes, and she sighed as she dried off with a paper towel. Too bad it couldn’t do the same for her heart.

  When she emerged, Tim was sitting there holding her coat, but the chair beside him was empty.

  “Uh, Tim…where’s my stuff?”

  He looked at her from under his brows for a second before nodding toward the hallway. She turned and froze, her heart pounding.

  Brent and Joe stood there in their coats and caps, holding her duffel and laptop. Neither of them looked happy. Though Joe appeared to have escaped relatively unscathed, last night’s brawl had taken a toll on Brent’s face. He had a black eye, his lower lips was swollen and there was a big abrasion on the right side of his chin.