The Boys Back Home

by Sierra Dafoe

  She reached for him, gliding her hands down to his ass, but he pulled back, shaking his head, his eyes huge and wondering. “Not yet, Cass. Not till you’re ready. I want to feel you come again. I want to feel you come with my cock inside you.”

  Oh, Jesus. Cassie swallowed as he bent back down, lowering his mouth to her other nipple. When he drew it between his lips, she gasped.

  She was ready. She was so ready… She’d been ready for this for years. Arching her back, she pushed her breasts against his mouth and whimpered as he opened his lips, sucking her harder.

  “Yes,” she whispered, thrusting her hips up against him. “Oh yes, Kyle, please.”

  Groaning, he lapped at her nipple, his mouth tugging it blindly, instinctively as he jerked himself out of her and immediately sank back in, spearing her so deep she cried out in wonder. Tilting her hips, she grabbed his ass, working her clit against the hard ridge of his abs as he thrust inside her, pushing her higher, higher… His cock swelled even further, so thick it felt like it was splitting her in two, filling her in a way she’d barely even imagined. Smoothly, gliding on her free-flowing juices, he pounded into her, his balls, hard and round, pressing against her with each stroke.

  With a harsh, desperate gasp, he pushed himself up onto his arms, staring down the length of her body to where they came together, and watched his cock, gleaming with her juices, hammering into her cunt with a frenzy he couldn’t stop, couldn’t hold back… His eyes, wide and wild, burned into hers as he threw his head back, and Cassie felt everything inside her swirl into bliss, her cunt clenching around him, fire ripping along her veins as he slammed down, his balls pulsing against her ass as he shot his seed deep inside her. She cried out, over and over, pressing up against him while ecstasy roared through her, making her arch and buck as her womb contracted again and again. His cock flexed inside her, flooding her cunt with his juices, giving her every last drop of his desire.

  His arms trembled and his face, both lax and strangely taut in the throes of his climax, clenched suddenly. Slumping down atop her, he panted, his breath rasping harshly in his broad, solid chest, and Cassie felt the harsh tickle of his whiskers against her neck. “Cassie. God. Oh God. Oh, Cassie.”

  Tenderly, she cradled him, a heavy lassitude flooding her limbs. She couldn’t move—she could barely imagine ever moving again. But finally, after a long, quiet stillness, Kyle shifted above her, raising his head to gaze down at her ruefully.

  “You know that’s the first time I ever made love with a woman.”

  She couldn’t help it—she laughed. “Well, you’re a natural.” But at the same time his words tugged at her heart, reminding her…

  Alan.

  Kyle drew a deep, shuddering breath, his eyes going dark and distant. Even with his cock still buried deep inside her, it felt to Cassie as if he were suddenly on the other side of the moon.

  Not that she could talk. She was engaged, for God’s sake! Cassie bit her lip. “Are you going to tell Alan about this?”

  He looked at her, startled. “Alan’s always known how I felt about you.”

  “What?” Cassie stared at him. All those years. All those years that she’d fought so desperately to hide her feelings… “Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

  “Why didn’t you?”

  Cassie opened her mouth to reply—and stopped. She knew why. They both did.

  Alan Caine was why.

  With a sigh, Kyle slid out of her and tugged his jeans back up. His shoulders hunched as he murmured, avoiding her gaze, “It’s all right, Cassie. It doesn’t matter. I…I always knew you wanted him. I could see it in the way you looked at him, the way you… Ah, never mind.”

  But I wanted you! I wanted you, too! Cassie almost wailed. She wanted to say it, but what would be the point? It was too late, far too late to go back and change things. And they’d built a life together, without her—was she really going to walk in and shatter that any worse than she already had?

  You know, it really is time you grew up, Cass.

  Yes. Yes, it was. Cassie watched the muscles in Kyle’s chest flex as he tugged his T-shirt over his head, pulling it down over his taut, rippled abs. Hearing her own voice small and strange in her own ears, she said, “Kyle, I just…want you to know, I’m glad you’re happy together.”

  He glanced at her sharply. “What do you mean by together?”

  “I…” Cassie fumbled, feeling impossibly awkward. “I mean, living together. You do, don’t you?”

  “Sure.” He shrugged, tossing her her jeans. “Happens when you’re co-owners of a ranch.”

  Was that really all there was to it? Cassie didn’t think so. Her panties were a wreck, soaked now with both their juices, but she tugged her jeans on anyway and buttoned her blouse. Kyle had turned away from her, tucking his shirt back into his jeans and buckling his belt. She went to him and slid her arms around his waist, laying her cheek against one heavy shoulder blade.

  No, she wouldn’t press him. She had no right to demand to know whether they were still lovers. To do so would be a betrayal of everything that had just happened in this room. Their lovemaking had been an unexpected gift—something precious to be treasured, but never repeated.

  And maybe that’s all I came here for, Cassie thought. Maybe I really just came back to say goodbye.

  She wouldn’t tell Richard, she knew. Not ever. It was just something old that she had to work through and let go of before she could finally, truly be with him. Maybe that’s all that growing up was, she thought. Learning to let go and be grateful for what you had.

  Turning her head, she kissed Kyle’s strong back. “Thank you,” she whispered. She felt his hand cover hers, holding it tightly. Then he led her to the sofa and sat her down, kneeling at her feet as he slid first one sneaker then the other back onto her feet and tied them for her as if she were a little girl. She smiled, watching him straighten and stomp on his boots.

  “Come on,” he said, holding out his hand.

  “Come on where?” She let him tug her to her feet, sliding her jacket on as he held it for her, and followed him back out to the hall.

  He pulled on his old sheepskin jacket and opened the door. “I’m taking you home.”

  “What?” Suddenly her passivity melted into sheer terror. Just thinking about Alan was bad enough—but seeing him? After sleeping with Kyle? “No, I can’t. I can’t.”

  “Sure you can.”

  She shook her head, her gaze sliding away from his. “Really, Kyle, I can’t. I’m exhausted. I just got back. And—”

  “—and there is nothing in the fridge, the oil tank’s empty, and unless you’re planning on eating the two-year-old soda crackers in the pantry, you’re coming with me,” he finished firmly. Picking up her suitcase, Kyle lifted his Stetson from the coatrack and tilted it rakishly back on his forehead. “Not trying to crowd you, ma’am, just trying to keep you from starving.”

  Cassie laughed helplessly. How had he always been able to do that, to make her smile when she was absolutely miserable? He grinned, a dimple showing through the golden scruff of his whiskers. Then his mood grew more somber. “Seriously, Cass. It’ll be down in the thirties tonight, and there’s no heat. You can’t stay here.”

  His gaze held hers, warm but firm. Holding out a hand, he waited. Reluctantly, Cassie took it and let him lead her to the truck. But while she sat in the cab, nervously watching Kyle in the rearview mirror as he stowed her suitcase, she dug in her coat pocket and jammed the diamond ring back onto her finger, blushing at her own hypocrisy.

  For a woman who just cheated on her fiancé, you’re sure quick to summon Richard’s ghost for protection, Cass.

  She sighed and straightened her shoulders, trying to brace herself. If the shock of seeing Kyle again had been bad, seeing Alan was going to be hell on earth.

  Chapter Three

  The sun, red and weary, slumped toward the distant hills as they turned off the main road twenty minutes later. Kyle got out and open
ed the stock gate, and the tension in Cassie’s gut twisted tighter as they bumped and rattled up the dirt drive.

  “This is the old Robertson place, isn’t it?”

  “Yep. Was, anyway.” Kyle’s voice sounded strained, and Cassie glanced over. His knuckles, tight on the steering wheel, were white around the edges.

  Great. He’s as tense as I am.

  She gazed out the window, wishing she had the courage to tell him to turn around. She’d sleep in a freezing cold house, she didn’t care. Hell, she’d hop the bus back to Chicago and marry Richard without another word…

  Ahead, she could see a cluster of buildings surrounded by a maze of corrals. As they drew closer she spied perhaps three dozen mustangs moving behind the fences, the slanting light of sunset dusting their backs. Sturdy, deep-chested, they whinnied, their heads lifting in curiosity as the truck pulled past.

  “Oh, Kyle, they’re beautiful.”

  He smiled—rather tightly, Cassie thought—and parked near the house, a substantial two-storey building with a broad covered porch running around three sides. She got out, smelling the rich, musky scent of horses on the cold breeze, and shivered. There was no sign of Alan.

  “He’s probably bringing in the horses,” Kyle said, noting her sweeping glance. He set her suitcase on the porch with a thump. “Whyn’t you go ahead in, get yourself settled. Washroom’s the third door on the right at the top of the stairs—there’s plenty of towels if you want a bath. I’d better go give him a hand.”

  Cassie nodded and climbed onto the porch, leaning on the rail as she watched him stride toward the stables, his hands shoved deep in his pockets. Then she lifted her head and looked around. Low on the horizon, a bank of clouds washed purple and orange in the light of the setting sun. Far to the east the Rockies towered, their snowy peaks gleaming with hints of pink and gold, stark against the darkening sky.

  Once she’d known what it was like to live here, to wake up every morning to this stillness, this immensity. Once, she’d belonged here.

  Where did she belong now?

  Her doubts, more chilling than the sharp edge of the breeze, sank into her bones, and she turned away, picked up her suitcase and opened the door.

  The silence inside the house made her feel even more like an intruder. To her right she could see a living room with shelves of books and a sturdy, comfortable leather couch facing a large TV. Through an archway she caught a glimpse of the kitchen. Then she looked up the carpeted stairs and swallowed.

  She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t go up there. The idea of seeing their toothbrushes hanging side by side—or worse, spying a rumpled double bed through a door left casually ajar…

  Third door on the right. Top of the stairs. You can do this, Cassie.

  Instead she turned and went back out onto the porch.

  Thirty yards from the house, two long stables faced each other across the drive. She could see Kyle in the corral behind the one on the right, leading the horses one by one into the stable. She started down the drive toward him, then paused as a cold gust of wind carried the sound of pounding hooves to her ears. Glancing around, Cassie crossed the drive. Behind the left-hand stable, she could see the fencing of another corral.

  “Hi-yah! Get on up!” The harsh, exultant cry rang loud in her ears and Cassie, her heart thundering as loudly as the horse’s hooves, flattened herself against the stable wall. Something flashed by ahead, and she crept to the corner and peered around it.

  Inside the corral, a sleek black mustang galloped madly, its hooves flailing, its mane whipping the air. Crouched low over its back, his dark brows knotted in fierce concentration, was Alan Caine.

  He rode bareback, his old corduroy coat unbuttoned and flapping behind him, his lean, powerful body surging with the stallion’s movements as easily as if he were a part of the horse itself. His lips were drawn tight against his teeth as he urged the mustang faster, faster still, and his hair, still long enough to cover his broad shoulders, streamed in the wind.

  His features, like Kyle’s, had long left behind the final vestiges of childhood. There was nothing left of the slightly elfin-faced boy she remembered, with his high, sharp cheekbones and ragged mop of black hair. Cassie watched him, her heart hammering, feeling the blood rush to her cheeks. He reminded her of the Rockies—harsh, implacable, distant and stunning. The sight of him, his hard jaw emphasized by the black shadow of his whiskers, fairly stole the breath from her lungs and made her nipples tighten with a longing she’d never been able to quench.

  Using neither bridle nor bit, he turned the mustang with a squeeze of his thighs, bringing it around sharply and pointing it straight at the fence. Kicking in his heels, he buried his hands in its mane as it leapt, arching against the red-streaked sky.

  He galloped the stallion in a wide arc, then brought it to a full stop with one short, sharp “Hai!” The mustang stood quivering as he vaulted from its back and froze, his dark eyes narrowing in surprise.

  Cassie trembled beneath that sharp gaze. She’d meant to raise a hand in greeting, maybe flash him a quick, polite smile, but she found herself rooted to the spot, pinned to the earth like a frightened rabbit.

  The breeze ruffled Alan’s hair, tossing it forward into his eyes. He pushed it back impatiently and, retrieving his hat from the fence post where he’d hung it, tugged it on. Then he strode to her, his chest heaving, his body still taut with adrenaline.

  Cassie’s knees quaked beneath her as she looked up into his hard, chiseled face, and a furtive heat throbbed between her thighs. Jesus. Had she ever, even for one second, managed to pretend she’d forgotten Alan Caine?

  Kyle with his broad, easy smile and rugged good looks was, she supposed, the handsomer of the two. Alan was darker, sterner, his lean, forceful features as distinct as if carved out of granite, the habitual watchfulness he’d had as a boy settled now into something almost…almost grim, Cassie thought, and swallowed.

  Did she even know Alan Caine? Did she really know him at all?

  She opened her mouth to say something, anything—but no sound came out. Alan merely stood there silently, towering over her, his implacable gaze raking her up and down. Then Kyle came around the corner of the stable and Alan’s eyes flicked to him, releasing Cassie from her momentary paralysis. She was grateful when Kyle, sensing her nervousness, moved closer.

  “’Bout time you came home,” Alan finally said. “Where’d you find her?”

  “In Bea’s.”

  Alan grunted. “Did you remember my coffee?”

  “Yep. It’s stone cold by now, though.” Kyle grinned and slid an arm around Cassie’s waist.

  She flushed, acutely aware of exactly what they’d been doing while Alan’s coffee got cold, and stared at the hard-packed earth. The scuffed toes of Alan’s boots moved into her vision, and she looked up as he grimaced at Kyle. “Figures.” Then he glanced back at Cassie and jerked his chin toward the house. “Go on up. We’ll be there in a bit.”

  He walked away, leading the sweating horse back toward the corral to cool it down, and an unexpected knife twist of pain flared in Cassie’s gut. What more had she expected, after all? She was the one who’d left without a word. Why should he be happy to see her? Why should he give a damn about her?

  Kyle shifted uncomfortably beside her, and she realized in horror that tears were spilling down her cheeks. He cleared his throat gruffly. “He really is glad to see you, Cass. He just…”

  “Oh, I know.” Cassie laughed, swiping at her tears. “I’m being silly, that’s all. Expecting to waltz on in here as if nothing’s changed.”

  “Nothing has changed.” Kyle’s silver-blue eyes, unusually intent, held hers as if willing her to believe it—and she wanted to. Oh, how she wanted to! She would have given anything to be able to roll back the years, go back to a time when they were still kids together, laughing, carefree, back before a night when she’d stood beside Kyle’s truck, watching Alan pull him into a kiss that had seared itself into her brain forever�
��

  “Of course it hasn’t.” She twisted the corners of her mouth into something resembling a smile and saw the concern in his eyes shade into relief. He grinned back at her.

  “Go on and get cleaned up. We won’t be long.”

  She nodded, holding onto her smile with grim desperation, and turned away, keeping her pace slow and steady when all she wanted to do was run, run just as far and as fast as she could from the tangled emotions tearing her apart.

  Kyle led the mustangs in one by one and put them into their stalls. Slowly, the restless clop-clop of their hooves stilled as he poured grain into their feed buckets, and the air in the stable grew warmer, full of the easy, contented sounds of their chewing. He was scooping oats into the last bucket when Alan finally led the black stallion into the stable behind him. Kyle handed the bucket to him and watched as Alan poured it for the stallion, his shoulders stiff with tension.

  “You slept with her.”

  Alan’s voice was flat, inflectionless—it wasn’t a question. He turned back around, and Kyle recoiled from the sheer rage in Alan’s face. He leaned against the stall, his hat tilted low, his eyes beneath the brim glowing like embers in the dusky light. “She finally finds some man who can make her happy, and you go and sleep with her.”

  “What?” Kyle stared at him, bewildered. “What are you talking about?”

  Alan stared at him, his fury almost palpable. Behind him, the stallion shifted restlessly. “You’re really going to tell me you didn’t see that rock on her finger? Damn thing’s the size of a lug nut, for God’s sake.”

  “I…” Then the meaning of Alan’s words finally penetrated. “She’s engaged?”

  Alan nodded slowly, his gaze never leaving Kyle’s face. Kyle pulled off his hat and raked a hand through his hair. “Shit. I swear to God, Alan, I didn’t know. How was I supposed to know? She didn’t say anything.”