Before long, the rest of the team was observing Tristen take a deep breath before Garrett’s door. That was when Santos made his move. He was not taking any chances that one of the team would beat him to his claim. The others wanted only to play with Tristen. They talked of how many positions they could bend his lean body into while sinking their cocks into his hole.
Weeks ago Santos had made it more than clear that those ideas weren’t going to happen. During breakfast on the day he and Rhys had left for an overnight trip to give horse and dog training seminars to a couple of schools and police departments, Santos had told the others point-blank to back off. Tristen was his. He let them know he would fight for the little flirt. At the time, everyone had agreed to leave Tristen alone. Santos would keep a sharp eye out and see if they would keep their promises.
Later the next day, when Santos and Rhys had returned to the Hacienda, Tristen and his father were gone.
Chapter Two
The leather office chair squeaked in protest as Roman Marshall leaned his big body back and frowned. Things weren’t going the way he’d had hoped.
His team of rescuers had skills that were out of this world. He trusted each and every one of them with his life. The problem was they didn’t trust each other.
When he had spent two months with Rescue for Hire in Granite County, he had been in awe of how that team was more than a group of guys working together to rescue people. They were a true family.
Roman wanted that. His team was only a couple of months old, but Roman thought they should be more unified by now. Tristen’s visit a couple of weeks ago had emphasized the problems he was having with his men. There was no doubt that his lover’s brother was one gorgeous man. But the team had spat like tomcats over him until Santos had laid down the law. Unfortunately for Santos, he was too late in claiming the man who had charmed everyone around him as if he were an incubus of mythology. Tristen had left that day.
Last night Tristen had come back to the hacienda. This time Santos had swept him up and taken him to his room. Now Roman wondered if the rest of the guys would respect their fellow teammate’s wishes. Roman knew, this time, Santos was prepared to fight for Tristen.
The door to the office slammed against the wall, and a red-faced Jimmy burst into the room.
“I quit!” Jimmy yelled, stomping across the room and standing in front of Roman’s desk. Jimmy spread his legs a bit and jammed his hands on his hips. This emphasized Jimmy’s sweet package. As hot under the collar as his feisty love was, Roman didn’t dare let his eyes settle any lower than the wild look in Jimmy’s light green eyes, yet.
“You can’t quit. You’re my husband,” Roman countered.
“Then you better not say one word when I take Isaiah by surprise and lay him out,” Jimmy threatened. “I will torture him until he starts keeping his promises.”
“What didn’t Isaiah do?” Roman asked, ignoring Jimmy’s threats. Jimmy wasn’t touching anyone but him.
“I’ve made two appointments at the clinic for him to get his annual physical. He’s ditched both of them,” Jimmy huffed.
“What did he say when you asked him why he missed them?” Roman knew Jimmy wouldn’t be coming to him with a complaint unless the small man was ready to let his temper get the best of him. When that happened, more times than not, Roman’s hand heated Jimmy’s delicious ass. For once the smaller man was using caution.
“The first time he said he forgot,” Jimmy said. “I just confronted him again, and he said he’d go in when he was ready, and not before.”
“Did he touch you?” Roman’s voice had gone deadly calm.
Jimmy’s eyebrows rose. “Of course not,” Jimmy said. “If he had, you’d be busy looking for the body.”
Roman’s laughter echoed through the room. There was never a dull moment with Jimmy around. Roman loved him more every day. If Isaiah had touched Jimmy, the weapons expert would have had more to worry about than dealing with Jimmy. A little spilled blood never hurt anyone, much. Then Roman would have fired his ass.
“Come here, little bit,” Roman ordered.
Jimmy’s green eyes sparkled, and a smile lit up his whole face. The small man sauntered around the corner of Roman’s desk, trailing a finger along the shiny surface. His antics had Roman’s blood simmering.
Roman pulled Jimmy onto his lap and kissed him. He would be calling a much-needed meeting soon. But right now, he had a husband to love on.
* * * *
Tristen opened his eyes to a ceiling of beautiful dark wooden boards and thick beams. Not moving anything but his eyes, he looked around at the unadorned tan walls. It was becoming obvious that this wasn’t a motel room.
Closing his eyes, he tried to urge his sleep-muddled mind to start functioning. Opening his eyes again, he looked down and lifted the blanket covering him. Seeing that he was wearing a pair of cherry red boy shorts told him he hadn’t tried another doomed one-night stand.
Santos’s face popped into his mind. Images of the night before played out sending excitement rippling through his veins. Hope sung its haunting sonnet to his soul. Maybe taking a chance and coming to Los Héroes had been the right thing to do.
Months ago, on his twenty-fourth birthday, Tristen had come to the conclusion that no man could live up to his dreams. He had felt so bad about that realization he refused to go anywhere with his friends or family.
That was when Carson Radley made his move. Tristen knew his brother Jimmy and the hired hand had been seeing each other. But he’d also seen Carson with other men during that same time. Tristen hadn’t been sure what was going on, but if Carson was with Jimmy in any way, that made him off-limits to Tristen.
One afternoon Tristen had gone out to the barn to repair and clean some of the halters and bridles. He found he enjoyed working with the leather, and it helped him cope with the growing dark cloud of depression that hovered over him.
Carson surprised Tristen by coming up behind him and pulling him into his arms. Tristen ordered Carson to let him go, pointing out that the man was dating his brother. He continued to struggle until the bigger man had told Tristen that he wasn’t seeing Jimmy anymore.
Tristen had made the mistake of believing Carson. It was a mistake he still regretted, even if Jimmy had forgiven him. He and Jimmy had never been close brothers, and that mistake had lengthened the distance between them.
Leaning against the barn wall, Tristen had let Carson cover him. Tristen stood there while a sweaty Carson began gasping for breath as he pressed his cock into Tristen’s body, and he had hated himself. Somewhere there had to be more to love and sex than this. An odd noise had caught his attention.
Jimmy stood behind them. A look of utter betrayal and hurt covered his face. Tristen knew then that Carson had lied.
Anger had surged through Tristen. A haze of red fury cloaked his vision for a moment. Tristen ignored the pain and ripped his body away from Carson. Turning, Tristen had exacted his revenge by kneeing Carson as hard as he could in the groin while telling him what a lowlife son of a bitch he was. But the damage was done. Jimmy refused to talk to him, and the next day his brother was gone.
The door of the room swung open, breaking Tristen’s thoughts. Santos walked in, looking delectable in tight jeans and a black T-shirt. Sadie, Santos’s German shepherd, followed and went over and lay down on a plush doggie pillow in the corner.
“Have you slept enough, fofinho?” Santos asked.
“Yeah,” Tristen answered and leaned up onto his elbows.
He was sure his eyeballs almost popped out of his head when Santos pulled off his shirt. Before Tristen could get lost in the acres of muscles and tattoos, Santos opened his jeans and pushed them to the floor.
Boxer-briefs molded powerful thighs and emphasized a package that had to be an optical illusion. In Tristen’s world, men weren’t that big. Drool pooled in Tristen’s mouth when Santos turned his back to him and he got a whole new view of delectable delights.
Part of his b
rain acknowledged that Santos was opening a dresser drawer and had pulled something out. The rest of his brain focused on rippling muscles and a firm, round ass.
Tristen’s entire being froze. There was no breathing, blinking, or moving of any kind. Santos had dropped his boxer-briefs to the floor. The man had no tan lines. Smooth, dark skin covered his entire body, including an exquisite ass that had Tristen whimpering with lust.
Tristen’s heart skipped a beat when Santos turned, giving him a glimpse of a stunning side view of round hard glutes before bending down and stepping into swim shorts. Santos’s powerful naked form would forever be branded onto Tristen’s brain.
As Santos sauntered over to the bed, Tristen frowned and studied the front of the big man’s light blue and white swim shorts. The bulge was quite prominent. He still wondered if he was seeing things. There was no way Santos could be as long and wide as Tristen thought he’d just seen when Santos turned sideways.
“Let’s go for a swim,” Santos said, reaching down and flipping the blanket off Tristen.
“My swimsuit is in the car,” Tristen said.
Santos grabbed Tristen’s ankle and pulled him down to the bottom of the bed. “You can wear what you have on.”
“Boy shorts?” Tristen couldn’t believe Santos wanted him to wear skimpy underwear that left half of his bare ass cheeks hanging out. For some reason he’d thought Santos would be more possessive than all his other boyfriends combined. Except a kiss and sleeping one night in the big man’s bed did not make him Santos’s boyfriend.
“No one will bother you,” Santos said, pulling Tristen to his feet. “Let’s go.”
Santos took his hand and led him to a pair of French doors on the other side of the room. After flipping the latch, Santos opened one of the doors and tugged Tristen out into the courtyard. Behind them, a silent Sadie followed.
The huge courtyard was beautiful with its multi-colored stone floor and lush green potted plants with trees spread throughout. It was located in the center of the house, and every bedroom in the hacienda had a set of French doors that opened out to the magnificent spot of seclusion.
A gorgeous, crystal-clear in-ground pool took up one corner of the courtyard. Tristen could live in that pool. Right now there was no one using it, and he couldn’t see anyone else in the courtyard.
Tristen frowned. The opportunity to parade around in his skivvies usually would be a dream come true. It made him pause that he was relieved that the courtyard was empty. He was starting to wonder what the heck was going on. Maybe he was getting sick.
That pause had Santos sliding an arm around his waist and lifting him into the air.
“Time to have some fun, fofinho,” Santo said.
While sailing through the air, Tristen had only enough time to take a small breath before he hit the water.
Tristen came to the surface sputtering. Strong fingers clamped around his thigh. Tristen took a quick gulp of air before he was tugged under the water. Arms wrapped around him and pulled him against a hard body.
Breaking the surface, Tristen shook his wet curtain of hair out of the way. A smiling Santos looked down at him with dark eyes sparkling with mischief. Droplets of water covered his face and coated his thick eyelashes.
Tristen linked his arms around Santos’s thick neck. Plastered against the big man’s wet body, Tristen had never felt so safe and secure in someone’s arms before.
“Put your legs around me,” Santos ordered.
Tristen lifted his legs and locked his ankles around Santos’s waist. Santos hand cupped the back of his head and brought it forward until their lips locked together. The water closed over their heads, and Tristen stayed ensnared in Santos’s embrace.
He could do nothing but trust. Tristen’s lungs were just about to burst when they broke through the surface again. Tristen breathed hard through his nose as Santos continued to kiss him.
Again they sank under the surface. Tristen’s mind stopped thinking or worrying. He held on to Santos and let the big man control what happened. Eventually, they rose to the water’s surface and floated around the pool in lazy patterns, trading kisses, with Tristen draped over Santos’s body. Tristen had never experienced such a connection with another man before.
“Hey, would you guys like to play some ball?”
Flyer Wakefield stood on the side of the pool dressed in long swim shorts. Tristen wasn’t surprised the shorts had pictures of airplanes covering them. Tristen had learned from his last visit that the pilot for Rescue for Hire West lived and breathed anything having to do with flying. Under one of his arms, Flyer held a purple ball they used to play volleyball, with a small net set up at one end of the pool.
“What do you say? Do you want to play?” Santos asked.
Tristen studied Santos’s face, trying to see if his question was legitimate or a sexy innuendo. He saw nothing but a genuine smile and eyes that sparkled with good humor. Tristen felt as though he was navigating in uncharted waters. But in the end, he decided to keep trusting and nodded in agreement.
“We will play, but you will need to find another player,” Santos called.
“Reece is coming,” Flyer answered, referring to one of the two medics on the team. Tristen watched Flyer’s hairy body move deeper into the water as the man made his way down the concrete steps set into the pool.
Santos shifted, breaking Tristen’s line of vision, and started over to the net. Tristen tried to slip off of and swim, but a hand against his back kept him attached to Santos’s body. Once they reached the shallow end where the net was located, Santos stood up in the waist-deep water, and Tristen slid to his feet. For him, the water was up to his chest.
“Cannonball!”
A wave splashed over them when Reece’s curled-up body hit the water. Tristen lost his footing and would have gone under, but Santos caught him up into his arms.
“Are you all right?” Santos asked, kissing the corner of his mouth.
Tristen smiled and said, “Yeah. Should we show these nuts how to play ball?”
Santos chuckled, and Tristen could only stare at the Greek god of a man. Confusion filled him again. What the heck was going on? Tristen was starting to know how a moth felt. He hoped he wouldn’t get burned by the tantalizing flame that was this man. Tristen almost missed it when Santos said, “Let’s do it, anjinho.”
The volleyball game turned out to be a lot of fun. They laughed, joked, and talked trash to each other. Tristen found it interesting that Santos didn’t try to cop a feel or hang onto him as others had done in the past.
And yet, just by his presence at his side, Tristen felt as if everyone knew and respected that they were together. The way the guys treated him was different, too, from his last visit. Gone were the flirting remarks. Not once did either man make a big deal out of his boy shorts plastered to his groin and his ass hanging out. There were no overlong looks at his body. In their place was genuine friendship. And although it confused the hell out of him, Tristen found he liked it.
When things wound down, Santos arm came around Tristen and turned him toward the steps leading out of the pool.
“It is almost time for supper, anjinho,” Santos said. “We missed breakfast and lunch, and I am hungry.”
Hands on his waist guided him up the steps. Looking over his shoulder, Tristen said, “Well, we better get cleaned up and find you something to eat then.” Laughing, Tristen turned back, ready to head to their room.
If Santos weren’t so agile on his feet, he would have crashed into Tristen where he, stopped, frozen in place. Standing in front of Tristen, with his hands on his hips, was his frowning brother Jimmy.
“What are you doing here?” Jimmy demanded.
Chapter Three
“I…um… I’m…” Tristen stammered under the fierce look in Jimmy’s eyes.
Firm hands closed around his shoulders. Their strength gave Tristen courage. He took a calming breath, preparing to tell Jimmy…something. Since he wasn’t sure of the answer
, he opened his mouth, ready wing it.
“We need to get cleaned up,” Santos interrupted, rubbing his hands up and down Tristen’s arms. “You and Tristen can have a nice visit once we are dry again.”
Now that Santos had mentioned getting dry, Tristen realized he was dripping water all over and had goose bumps covering his body.
Relief swept through Tristen when Santos didn’t give him a chance to say anything. In a flash, the man propelled him past Jimmy and through the French doors to his bedroom. He held in a chuckle at the look of astonishment that had covered his brother’s face when Santo had taken charge.
“You get in the shower, anjinho,” Santos ordered. “I will go out and get your bags from the car.”
Santos had his hand on the doorknob when Tristen said, “Santos.”
The big man paused and said, “Yes?”
“What does anjinho mean?” Tristen asked.
Two long strides had Santos’s hand buried in Tristen’s soaked hair, forcing him to lift his face. Firm lips covered his in a scorching kiss that made his toes curl. Tristen grasped onto Santos’s wide shoulders and opened his mouth to let the big man in. Santos’s talented tongue swept in and staked his claim. Way too soon for Tristen, Santos broke the kiss. He stared down into Tristen’s eyes for long moments before saying, “It means little angel.”
Santos let him go and left. It was all Tristen could do not to slide to the floor in a limp heap. At every turn, the man was frying his brains with hot kisses and keeping him off balance with words and actions. Shaking his head to try and get his muddled brain working, Tristen made his way into the shower.
Later, Tristen sighed. In his imagination, he was on his knees with Santos’s hard cock in his mouth, not holding a towel while wiping up the puddles of pool water from the bedroom floor.
From the corner, Sadie watched. “I’m telling you, Sadie, life never goes the way you think it’s going to. You’d better stick to chew bones and Alpo.” Sadie’s tail thumped against the doggie pillow she was lying on.
The Tracker Claims the Cutie [Rescue for Hire West 2] (Siren Publishing Everlasting Classic ManLove) Page 2