This Old Wind (Leanin' N Book 5)

by BA Tortuga

  “I don’t know if I could be quiet, honey,” Michael whispered. “I wasn’t real good at that. Maybe when the girls are at camp and we’re in my bed?”

  “That sounds like a plan.” He squeezed that fine ass again. “Gives me time to get some very necessary supplies for our adventure.” He was sure Michael didn’t carry around condoms and lube, and he hadn’t needed them for a while.

  “There you go.” Michael grinned at him. “Thank you for…meeting me where I am.”

  “Anything, honey. I would meet you anywhere.” He meant it. He kissed Michael again, the need easing off enough to let it be slow and deep and hot instead of oh my God I need to come.

  Michael groaned, beginning to rock against him in slow, steady rolls of hips and belly and chest.

  That was it. Simon rubbed back, meeting Michael in the middle again, skin on skin. He could do this for hours, luxuriate in this man and his fine skin, his deep scent. They touched and kissed and licked, hands sliding over each other to learn all the hot spots.

  He loved how Michael gave and didn’t ask, so every little touch seemed so big.

  Hell, who was he kidding? Everything about Michael did it for him, and he could fall in love with the guy for real in no time. That was a little scary, but it was so possible.

  And so what if he did? He wasn’t hurting anything, and he needed a little low-key love affair.

  Some downtime. His life needed that right now. A little joy.

  Well, not all of it was little. He slipped his cock back and forth against Michael’s, moaning. Yeah, that was a fine thing. Michael’s skin was hot and fine, his dick hard and wet at the tip.

  Simon’s breath caught when their tips snagged on each other, this insanely erotic noise coming from Michael, half moan, half-stifled shout. Jesus.

  They were making music now, a song of pure heat with a rhythm and harmony that wouldn’t quit.

  Every little noise Michael made added to his fever, and he knew they had to try to keep it low, not wake the girls. Somehow that made the whole situation seem a little illicit, a little dangerous, and God knew Simon was a danger junkie sometimes.

  He covered Michael’s lips with his own, grinning with the knowledge that Michael still made the finest noises, that his new lover was fighting to keep them in. They were gonna tear it up when the girls went to camp. He would take Michael to bed and tease all the sounds out, and he would write fucking ballads that went with them.

  “Love how you sing for me,” he whispered against Michael’s lips.

  Michael’s answer was a low groan, and one of those square hands landed on his ass to drag him closer still. They rocked, and he squirmed up a little, capturing Michael’s cock between his thighs. That would give a whole new kind of friction.

  “Simon!”

  Oh, yeah. He could hear his name like that forever. That was wild and needy and pure lust.

  “That’s it, baby. Feel that. You’re so hard for me again.” He kept his voice low, but he wanted to shout from the rooftops.

  “How could I not be?” Michael leaked for him, prick unbelievably hot and slick where it whispered against his skin.

  “You make me want all the things.” He squeezed, pulling a little with his legs by arching back and forth with his hips.

  “All the things…” Michael rolled them and arched down against him, driving them together.

  Simon grunted, amazed at Michael’s strength, at how he took control in an instant. Hell, yes.

  It was totally unexpected and totally appreciated at the same time.

  He wrapped one leg around Michael’s hip, hooking it behind Michael’s leg, and humped, loving on him.

  “Good. So good.” Sweat made Michael glow in the moonlight, and for a second, Simon felt like it was otherworldly, like Michael was some wonderful cowboy god come to life.

  “Harder, baby. I can take it.” His bruises didn’t even twinge, even when Michael pressed down against him enough to make the bed squeak a little.

  “Need you.” Michael curled and bit at his nipple, even as their cocks slid together just right.

  “Fuck!” He kept it low, but the word exploded out of him, the tiny ball of pain enough to make him vibrate.

  Michael nodded, grunting out his warning, his face a study of pleasure.

  He was close. Real close, and his balls pulled up. “Soon, baby.” He pinched Michael’s asscheek, maybe a little too hard, but Michael urged him higher.

  “S-soon. Fuck…” Michael shook, coming in a wild rush.

  “Uhn!” Simon arched hard enough to raise them both off the bed, gritting his teeth to keep from whooping when he shot, his body convulsing.

  Oh, the first orgasm had been great, but this one was dizzying, leaving him panting and shivering.

  Michael kissed his neck over and over, the touches slowing as Michael relaxed and his breathing evened out.

  “Oh, baby. Good,” Simon murmured.

  “Uh-huh. So good.” Michael was getting heavy against him.

  He wiggled a little to settle part of Michael’s weight off on the bed, then snuggled close. They might wake up glued together, but Simon could live with that. He wanted to keep Michael right there.

  “You okay, honey? We good?” Such a sweetheart.

  “I’m pretty sure I’ve never felt better in my life, Michael.” He kissed Michael’s cheek, because he barely had to move to reach.

  “Mmm…” Michael grabbed the covers and yanked them over him.

  Simon chuckled. Just in case. Plus, he was getting chilly now the sweat was drying. “Thanks.”

  “Anytime. At all.”

  They both laughed and settled in. He was right where he wanted to be for the first time in a very long time.

  Chapter 10

  Michael woke up with wonderfully sore balls and the best mood he could imagine.

  He slid from the bed, stretching up tall, loving the sight of Simon’s dark hair on his pillow. God, that man was hot. Just smokin’, and his lips were still swollen from Michael’s kisses. His.

  He grinned and threw on his sweats. Even in the summer, the morning could be chilly, and he knew the girls would be up soon, Haley would need to pee.

  He slipped out of the bedroom, finding Mickey up and leashing the dog. “Mornin’, baby.”

  “Good morning, Mr. Daddy. Haley has to potty. Sister is getting shoes on.”

  “You guys are so good to her.” He would keep an eye on them, but he could do that while making coffee and getting out a packet of dog food.

  “She’s ours, and she needs us.” Mickey hugged him as he wandered by. “Love you.”

  “Love you too.” He chuckled as Chloe bounced out. “And you three.”

  “Silly Daddy.”

  He nodded and started a cup of coffee, got the food for Haley, refilled her water bowl, and then took his coffee outside.

  He sipped, watching Haley chase birds out of the dog run, his girls leaning on each other as they waited, huddling together a little. Still sleepy, then. He would bet this morning would be cartoons on the couch.

  Maybe they’d all go down for breakfast with the family. That would be nice. He was sort of hoping for oatmeal—something sweet and filling.

  “Good morning, Michael, girls.” Simon’s mom—what was her name—Helen. Right. Helen and Saul—came wandering up, in a heavy sweatshirt and shorts. “How are y’all this morning?”

  “Excellent, thank you.” Your son is in my bed.

  “Are you having breakfast at the main house?” she asked, her gaze straying to his daughters, a smile on her face.

  “I think so, yes, ma’am. I’ll ask the girls, but they love to go up and visit. Are you having a decent time?” Could she tell? Was there some sort of granny-gene that told her they were Simon’s?

  “I am. We have to leave tomorrow, but I wanted to tell you how much I’ve loved seeing your daughters. They’re amazing, and they make me so nostalgic. I swear, they look like Simon at that age.”

  �
��Do they? They’re good girls. Honestly. They remind me of their mom.”

  “Do you have any pictures of her?”

  “Of course.” He pulled out his phone, going to the folder of the pictures he had, finding his favorite, the one of their wedding day, more than ten years ago. “This is my Rhiannon.”

  “Oh, Michael, she was lovely.” Helen’s gaze sharpened when she met his again. “Where do they get those unusual eyes?”

  He forced himself to stay casual, not to tense, because he couldn’t let this happen. “They’re fascinating, right? I love how they’re so gray, almost silver in the right light.”

  “Mmm. They are. In my family, they come from my dad’s side.”

  “That’s really cool.” He sipped his coffee, proud that his hand wasn’t shaking.

  “He was a fascinating man. He was a musician too. He passed away when Simon was sixteen.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry.”

  She hummed in response, but she was flipping through the pictures, coming to land on the one he had of Rhi and Simon together. They were holding each other and laughing.

  “That was, uh, when we met. The three of us.”

  The weirdest expression crossed her face, almost guilty. “They look so young. Goodness.”

  What was she thinking? he wondered. Then again, he probably didn’t want to know.

  “We all were,” he agreed. “It was years ago. The whole world has changed since then.”

  “It has.” She nodded, smiling gently. “Do you mind if I go play with Haley and the girls a moment?” The ball had appeared now that Haley had done her thing.

  “Of course not. I’m going to pop in the house and get dressed real quick, if you’ll excuse me.” Maybe she was simply hungry for grandbabies. It happened.

  “Thank you. I’ll see you in a bit.” She waved and was off, and he had to trust that the universe knew what it was doing, bringing them all together. That was his MO.

  He had to believe that things happened for a reason, or he’d lay down and cry, and that was a damn waste of time.

  Simon sat with his mom on the big wraparound porch of the ranch, rocking a little, trying to digest his second big meal of the day. Man, he was going to have to get on the gym equipment now that his bruises were mostly fading. He wasn’t too sore to do some cardio, anyway, or Geoff’s cooking would be the end of him.

  He wondered if Michael cooked. He wanted to explore in Michael’s house, see how his lover lived.

  His mom glanced around, then pierced him with a hard look. “Did you have an affair with Michael’s wife?”

  “What?” Fuck. Where the hell had that come from? How did she even know he’d met Rhi?

  “Michael’s wife. The pretty red-haired singer. You had an affair with her, didn’t you?”

  “No.” Technically it wasn’t an affair if the husband was there too. His cheeks went nuclear hot. “I mean, why would you even ask that?”

  “Simon, don’t lie to me. Those little girls look just like you and their mother. I saw the picture of the two of you.”

  “I’m not lying, Mom. Yeah, I slept with her. Michael was there.” He kept his voice super low so no one chanced to overhear.

  “Simon!” Her eyes went huge. “You dog!”

  “What? We were, and Michael and I still are, adults.” He wasn’t gonna be ashamed.

  “But son, are those girls yours?”

  “What?” He just stared at her, his eyes so wide they pulled at the edges. “Mine?”

  “Yes. You know, from your loins? Your genetic code? You do know how babies are made, right? Your father didn’t drop the ball there?”

  “Mom!” He snapped his mouth back together to stop shouting. No one came out to check on them, so he lowered his voice. “Of course I know that. How could they be mine?”

  Mom swatted his hand. “That’s what I asked. You know full well how, if you were having sex with that poor dead, married woman in the appropriate timeframe.”

  “That sounds horrifying. She was alive then, you know.” His mind raced. If Mickey and Chloe were his, why wouldn’t Michael and Rhi have told him? He’d left them his number, even back then.

  “Well, thank God for that.”

  “Mom, come on. Seriously. Why would they be—”

  A flash popped, startling him.

  “What on earth!”

  It took him a few long seconds to figure out what the hell was going on, because he’d felt safe and removed from his regular life here, but when he looked around, there was someone he didn’t recognize at the far end of the porch, a huge, professional camera rig in his hands.

  “Inside, Mom,” he said tightly, popping up to usher her into the house. “Stoney! Ford!”

  The sound of boots echoed before they ever saw the owners, and Simon pointed. “Paparazzi. On the porch. Michael and the kids are out there. So’s my dad.”

  Stoney’s face went red, and he grabbed a shotgun from a wardrobe and stormed out onto the porch.

  He peeked out the window, and soon enough, Dad, Michael, and the kids with Haley in tow were all in the big family room of the main house. There was…a lot of noise out there.

  Geoff came out and smiled at them as Tiny the giant kitchen assistant went onto the porch. “Let’s go to the kitchen.”

  “Can we help you, Geoff?” Mickey asked, steering Chloe toward the man. So good to her sister, who looked a little worried and tense.

  “You can. We’re going to have cookies and tea. I’ll need you to put them on the trays.” Geoff winked at him and brought them into a large, windowless conference-type room off the kitchen. “Let’s do it in here. It’s nice and big. Michael, can you help me grab the supplies?”

  “Of course. Y’all stay in here with Mr. Simon and all, okay. He’s the boss right now.”

  “Okay, Daddy.” Mickey put on a determined face, and Simon had to bite back a smile.

  “Come on, girls. Help me rearrange the room so we can all sit and have a snack,” his mom said, and his dad came over to Simon’s side.

  “You okay?”

  “No.” He stared at Mickey and Chloe, wondering if the photog had been close enough to hear his conversation with Mom. Jesus. That would be a nightmare. A total nightmare. “I’d forgotten. I know better than to forget that they’re out there.”

  “You deserve a few days without being hounded, son.”

  “I don’t need to put everyone else at risk, though. They always catch up with me.”

  “So they take pictures. They aren’t stealing our souls.” Pop gave him a gentle, one-armed hug. “Your mom’s got them busy organizing things. Those girls are fine.”

  “Yeah.” He took a deep breath, still reeling from the idea that Mickey and Chloe were his daughters. The timing was right. They looked so much like him that his mom couldn’t seem to stay away from them. But they were Michael’s kids; there was no doubt about that. So what the hell?

  Michael would tell him, right? He wouldn’t just not say anything. That would be…no. No. Michael was the most straightforward, honest man he’d ever met.

  Then again… What if Rhi had made him promise not to or something?

  He had some alone time coming with Michael. Simon would ask, that was all, and Michael would tell him he was nuts and he could stick out his tongue at his mom.

  Until then, he’d let her have this little weird grandmother fantasy thing.

  Stoney came in, face like a thundercloud. “We dealt with it, and we called the sheriff. This is posted private property.”

  “Did you shoot anyone?” Dad asked.

  “Does ‘at’ count?” Ford answered, chuckling softly. “That one’s filled with rock salt, for critters. Still, it scared the hell out of the guy.”

  “Good. I’m so sorry, guys. I just never thought anyone could get that close here.” He sighed, but Stoney shook his head.

  “No, sir. That’s our job, keeping guests safe. You deserve time off. Now, where are those cookies?”

  Michael a
nd Geoff appeared as if by magic with trays and bags of cookies.

  “Okay, girls! Tray time. I’ll be back with drinks.” Geoff was amazing.

  Stoney went to help, and suddenly they were all sitting together, having the biggest, goofiest tea party, with all of them clinking their teacups together and laughing.

  Simon took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of peppermint from the tea, and let everything else go for now.

  This was too good a moment to miss by worrying things to death.

  Who knew Dad drank tea with his pinkie up in the air?

  Chapter 11

  Michael grabbed the rental paperwork off the desk and nodded to Simon and the girls. “Y’all ready?”

  The truck was totaled, but he had two weeks of a rental to finance himself a new one, and they had to run back up to grab their stuff, get a bag for Simon, and tell the man’s folks goodbye.

  They’d been sweet, even offering to keep the girls while he ran down the mountain, but he didn’t think that was right. They hadn’t come to be babysitters, after all.

  He’d rented a nice SUV. He thought maybe he’d try it out, see what he thought. If he worked it right, he could buy himself a POS work truck straight out, just something for hauling hay and manure, and get him and the girls something fancier.

  Stoney could hook him up. That man always knew someone who needed to sell a vehicle.

  The SUV was cushy, and the girls settled in, excited about the DVD screens in the back. “Lord, they’re going to get spoiled. What do you drive, honey?”

  Michael’d bet it was a fancy-assed sports car. It was LA.

  “Depends. When I get a chance, I have an old Chevelle I fixed up years ago. Otherwise I have a Lexus.” Simon grimaced a little. “I also have a driver on call for when I have to go into the city too much. Traffic is a bear, and I would rather trust a pro.”

  See him. See him not say anything that mentioned sleepy rock stars who totaled perfectly innocent cowboys’ trucks.

  “That makes sense. I haven’t been in a city driving bigger than the Junction in a long time.”

  “Not much for Denver, huh?”