by Elle Kennedy
“No problem,” she replied, but her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes.
The two men watched her leave. “Think she should be up and about still?” Connor asked.
“Yeah, it’s fine. If she’s moving, that’s a good sign for both her and the kid.”
Connor rubbed his forehead. “It was easier when we were at the farm. Remember that little acreage down south? Before we settled in the mountains?”
He nodded. “I remember.”
“Way fucking easier,” his friend muttered. “Fewer people meant fewer problems and fewer worries. We needed a woman, we went and got one. Survived a long time that way. Kade’d probably still be alive if we’d kept it up.”
The mild critique of Reese’s way of life, her vision for the future, sat wrong in Rylan’s gut. He felt compelled to defend the damn woman. “Sure, and we’d still be hiding, rubbing our dicks to porn so old that it should be fossilized, and waiting every day for a troop of Enforcers to come to our door. The Global Council’s not going anywhere, man.”
“You’re right.” Connor gave a rueful nod. “Sitting on our asses doesn’t cut it anymore. Times are changing. We’re gonna have to change with it.”
“You wouldn’t be saying that if you didn’t have Hudson,” he pointed out.
“No question, but that’s part of what’s changing. And so are you.”
Rylan only grunted.
“I see. So does this mean you’re done with me and my woman?” Amusement crept back into Connor’s voice.
“Yes . . . No. Fuck if I know.” He sighed with exasperation. Fortunately, Bethany arrived with his food, and he had something other than Reese, Sloan, and sex to focus on.
After a few minutes of companionable silence, he felt sufficiently in control to speak again. Had Connor’s invitation been an idle, off-handed one or did Hudson really miss him? “Hudson need something?”
Connor flashed a rare grin. “Nah, we’ll survive without you.”
“Maybe Pike?” Rylan offered as a replacement.
“Too much of an asshole. He only likes that pup of his.” Connor rolled a toothpick between his lips. “If we need a third, I’m thinking Sloan. He’s careful and attentive.”
Rylan’s gut twisted at that. Sloan belonged to him and Reese.
Wait. What?
Him and Reese? Was he fucking crazy?
“I need to get drunk,” he groaned.
Just like that, Connor’s lazy demeanor dropped away, and he leaned forward with serious intent. “Okay, enough with this shit. You’re a goddamn mess, Ry. We’re attacking Enforcers in a few days and you need to be focused. Which means you need to get whatever it is out of your system before we leave on this mission, otherwise someone’s gonna get hurt.”
“I know.” He scrubbed a weary hand through his hair. “Problem is, only one person is getting my dick hard these days.”
Connor rolled his eyes. “Then screw her again.”
The dick that hadn’t moved an inch when Connor was talking about a threesome with his woman now stood at attention. Thoughts of Reese, her tight pussy and the fierce bite of her nails on his skin had him burning up in the restaurant. Despite the number of times she turned him down, he couldn’t stay away, couldn’t stop thinking about her. Adding Sloan into the mix wasn’t helping him at all.
“She’s not interested,” he ground out. They weren’t interested.
That made Connor snort. “Maybe she needs to ask Sloan’s permission again.”
“Funny.”
“Hey, I’m only half joking. Clearly he has influence over her, so why don’t you just talk to him and—” He stopped when he saw Rylan’s glum face. “Oh shit, you already did that?” Another snort. “Don’t know what else to tell you, man. Guess you can’t win ’em all.”
Fuck that. He wasn’t giving up that easily.
Rylan drained the rest of his water, then slammed the glass on the tabletop and scraped back his chair.
“Where you going?” Connor asked, his lips noticeably twitching.
“Don’t worry about it.” He strode with single-minded purpose toward the door, stopping only to call over his shoulder, “Give your woman a kiss for me.”
* * *
He found Sloan in the rec hall. The man was chatting with Nash and Beckett, but his expression immediately went shuttered at Rylan’s approach.
“Got a minute?” Rylan asked lightly.
“Sure.” Sloan gave a nod to the other men, grabbed his drink, and motioned for Rylan to lead the way.
He took them to a dark corner of the room. Beckett delivered a beer without asking, while Sloan eyed Rylan as if he were an Enforcer who’d come to make a dirty bargain.
After they’d lowered themselves on opposite ends of a small, tattered couch, Rylan got right to the point. He figured a no-nonsense man like Sloan would appreciate it. “I’m sorry I was an ass last night.”
Sloan shrugged.
“That’s it? No I accept your apology? No it’s all good, bro?”
Another shrug.
“Look, I’m sure you’ve seen plenty of men lose their heads over Reese before.” Frustration jammed in his throat, so he tried to loosen it with a deep swig of beer. “One taste of her wasn’t enough. I . . .” He trailed off, because he wasn’t sure what in the hell he wanted from Sloan.
Did he want Sloan to talk Reese into fucking him . . . or to talk her into fucking them both?
“I’m sure she appreciates your persistence,” was all Sloan said.
“Really,” he drawled.
Sloan’s lips curved in a reluctant smile. “Okay, maybe I exaggerated a little.”
He had to laugh. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you? Watching me chase her around with my tongue hanging out and my dick in hand. The entire town must be entertained.”
“I don’t think anyone’s concerned about who’s screwing Reese except you.”
“And you.” He’d be damned if he let Sloan off the hook.
“You want me to acknowledge I’m as miserable as you?” the other man asked.
He nodded. Because, well, knowing that someone else had Reese-induced blue balls would make him feel better.
Sloan snorted. “We’re going to need a lot more liquor before I do that.”
“I’m down with that.” Rylan waved a hand at Beckett. “Beck! Bring over some whiskey. We need to get drunk.” He pointed to the big, bearded man beside him. “It’s on Sloan.”
Beckett laughed, but disengaged himself from his conversation and sauntered over with a bottle of whiskey and two glasses. “What, I’m your fucking servant now?”
“Says the guy who’s serving us drinks,” Rylan cracked.
“Good point.” Grinning, the tattooed man dropped the bottle in Rylan’s hand and then headed back to the small group of chatting, laughing men across the room.
“What’s your game here?” Sloan asked slowly, his dark eyes tracking Rylan’s hands as he poured each of them a shot.
“No game.” He shoved a glass in Sloan’s hand. “Figured it’d be nice to get to know each other. We’ve already got one major thing in common.”
“Yeah? What’s that?”
“Neither of us is getting laid.”
The joke got him the desired laugh. It also succeeded in relaxing the tense set of Sloan’s shoulders. “Cheers,” Sloan said gruffly, before downing his whiskey.
Rylan drank, then poured two more shots. “So, where you from?” he asked in a conversational tone.
Sloan rolled his eyes.
“I’m serious. Where were you born? City or free land?”
“Free land. Grew up in a camp on the coast.”
“You have family?”
“Had some. Lost ’em.”
When Sloan tipped his head back to swallow another shot, Rylan
couldn’t look away from the bobbing Adam’s apple in Sloan’s strong throat. Sloan was big and tough and mean as a son of a bitch. And undeniably attractive. He had a nice mouth.
Knew how to use it too . . .
Fuck. Rylan pushed the memory aside. He hadn’t come here to seduce the man—he’d come to win him over.
Then again, who said those were mutually exclusive goals?
“What happened to them?” Rylan asked quietly.
Sloan’s expression took on a faraway look. Then he cleared his throat and poured some more whiskey. “Earthquake,” he muttered. “Our camp was as close as we could get to the flooded cities. My ma liked the shore, liked the smell of the ocean. But when the quake hit, the whole area went under. Ever seen a building standing there one second and underwater the next?”
Rylan shook his head and drank some more.
“Yeah, me neither. It was kind of beautiful, in a grim sorta way.” Sloan didn’t even use a glass for his next shot, just wrapped his lips around the bottle and sucked. “There were twenty people in our camp, including my parents. Sixteen drowned. Me and a few other boys managed to swim to safety.”
“How old were you?”
“Eight.”
Aw shit. Rylan had heard plenty of depressing stories over the years, gruesome tales of violence and hardship. Hell, his own childhood had been—what was the word Sloan had used? Grim. Yeah, it’d been grim and dark and shitty. But something about Sloan’s tale tugged at him. The thought of a little boy swimming for his life while everyone he loved was drowning all around him . . . fucking brutal.
“I’m sorry, brother,” Rylan murmured.
Sloan’s chuckle was low and harsh. “Nothing to be sorry for. You didn’t cause that quake.”
“I know, but—” He stopped when he noticed Sloan’s eyes had gone veiled again. Shit. He was supposed to be winning this man over to his side, not bumming them both out. “So when did you meet Reese?” he asked, hoping to steer the subject somewhere safer.
Those broad shoulders lifted in a shrug. “Four, no, almost five years ago. Ran into her on the road.”
“She was alone?”
“Naw, she had people, strays she’d picked up along the way. Bethy and Arch. Nash. Cole.”
“Were you alone?”
It was supposed to be another harmless question, but Sloan instantly stiffened. “No. I wasn’t.”
Rylan snapped into damage control mode. Maybe if he revealed some of his own secrets, Sloan would relax again.
“I wasn’t alone either when I first met Con. Pike and I were roaming the colony, screwing around and getting into trouble. Before that, we were at an army camp, training recruits.” He grinned. “That’s where I got my cock pierced. And here’s a tip—”
Sloan chuckled.
The grin widened. “No pun intended. But yeah, a tip—you ever want to get your cock pierced, make sure you’re drunk when you do it. Hurts like a motherfucker.”
“And the tats? Did those hurt too?”
Rylan blinked, momentarily confused by the question, until he remembered that this man had seen him shirtless. Of course Sloan had noticed the tattoos on his chest. “Nah, I didn’t mind the needle. Got me hard, if I’m being honest. I like a side of pain with my pleasure.”
“I’ve noticed,” Sloan said dryly.
The air turned thick between them. He wondered if Sloan was remembering the way Rylan had commanded Reese to scratch harder, bite harder, ride him harder.
The glint of heat in Sloan’s dark eyes said yes, he was absolutely thinking about that.
Rylan wrenched the bottle from the other man’s hand and swallowed several mouthfuls that joined the hot burn already eddying in his stomach. Fuck, he was drunk. But not wasted. He could still think clearly. Still speak without slurring as he said, “Sorry I got in your face that night.”
“Sorry I kissed you,” came the brusque reply.
“I’m not. Reese keeps turning me down.”
A laugh popped out of Sloan’s mouth. He had to be drunk himself, because Rylan had never heard such deep, genuine laughter from the guy. “What, so I’m better than nothing?”
“Nah, you’re at least two steps up from nothing,” Rylan joked, but truthfully, Sloan’s kiss had been so damn scorching, he felt like the soles of his feet were still burning.
“You’re not so hot in bed either,” Sloan mocked.
“The fuck I’m not. I went five times the other night.”
“So?”
“So? That’s a goddamn superhuman performance.”
“If you say so.”
Rylan hesitated, wondering if he was taking them down a dangerous path again. But the question had been biting at his tongue for days now, and the whiskey was loosening said tongue. “Why didn’t you join in? You afraid to touch my dick?” His groin tightened at the thought of Sloan’s big hand wrapped around him.
“Not particularly.”
“Are dicks a turnoff for you?” Rylan pushed.
“Haven’t been in the past.”
“So it’s me.”
“Never said that.”
“I give damn good head.” He waggled his eyebrows. “And not just to the ladies.”
Sloan smirked. “Sounds like a lot of drunken boasting.”
“Sounds like you need a replay.”
“You don’t have a partner,” Sloan pointed out.
“Not true.”
“Yeah? How so?”
Their gazes locked for one long moment.
The banked heat looked familiar—Rylan saw it every time Sloan was around Reese—and he knew the same look was mirrored in his own eyes right now.
Shit, they were absolutely going down a dangerous path. Yet even knowing that, he couldn’t stop the three words that slipped from his lips.
“I have you.”
12
Something perverse was driving Sloan, something hot and twisted and fueled by a primal instinct he didn’t usually indulge in. The people of Foxworth relied on him to be dependable and steady. He was Reese’s bodyguard, her silent killer, her unshakable support.
Rylan, on the other hand, was good-humored and had a quick and ready smile for everyone. It was that charm that drew Reese to him against her better judgment, and damned if it didn’t appeal to Sloan too.
I have you.
The words hung in the air between them, triggering a jolt of heat in Sloan’s groin. One he was damn tired of denying. “That right?” he said roughly.
Rylan took a leisurely swallow of his whiskey and stared back in a long, deliberate manner. “Reese isn’t the only one who needs a good dicking.”
Sloan set down his shot glass. Then he slid off the couch and headed for the door.
He was ducking past the doorway when Rylan’s footsteps caught up with him. Wordlessly, the two men exited the building.
This was a bad idea. Sloan knew that. But he was drunk enough not to care, and so turned on he couldn’t think straight.
Neither of them spoke as they walked toward the two-story brick building that Sloan called home. The bottom floor used to be a general store, but all the shelves had been raided long before Reese’s people had settled in town. Upstairs was the apartment that Sloan shared with Reese.
He didn’t know if she was home and didn’t care if she was. His dick was rock hard, his vision nothing but a lust-filled haze. He threw open the bedroom door and stalked inside. Rylan had barely crossed the threshold before Sloan pressed the blond man up against the wall.
Screw it. Why should Reese get to have all the fun?
His mouth slanted over Rylan’s. The kiss was hungry, angry, brutal. It wasn’t like the smooth touch of a woman. Rylan’s hands were equally rough, his grip on Sloan’s waist punishing.
He didn’t have to hold back here, Sloan real
ized. There wasn’t any tender skin he had to worry about marking up. There wasn’t any move he could make that Rylan couldn’t match. They tore at each other’s clothes, ripping the offending items off without a care for the buttons or zippers or snaps.
When Sloan heard a gasp and then a startled curse, he broke away long enough to see Reese in the doorway. Her eyes were wide and confused as she took in the sight of two naked men mauling each other against the wall.
He let out a low, dirty chuckle and then licked a hot stripe down Rylan’s neck, all the while watching Reese.
“So you’ll fuck him but not me, is that it?” She directed the puzzled question to Sloan.
“Pot meet kettle,” he muttered before placing his mouth at the spot of skin where Rylan’s neck curved into his shoulder.
Rylan’s hands drifted down to Sloan’s ass. Without looking at Reese, he squeezed hard enough to make Sloan groan, then rasped, “You had your chance, gorgeous.”
“You two are drunk,” she accused.
“Not even a tiny bit,” Sloan lied as he ground his lower body against Rylan’s. Their erections brushed against each other, and he almost came right then.
“Bullshit. Your eyes are glassy.”
Rylan tossed a wicked grin over his shoulder. “Either walk away, or sit down and be quiet. You’re distracting us with all your yapping.”
Her brown eyes flashed, but neither man paid any more attention to her. Sloan crushed his mouth over Rylan’s again, his tongue stealing inside.
They grappled with each other all the way to the bed. They weren’t fighting for dominance but struggling against an intense, physical urge toward a climax Sloan had known was coming from the moment he’d kissed this man yesterday.
Rylan’s body rubbed against his own as they crashed to the mattress. For once in his life, as another man’s muscular chest was pressed tight to his, as hair-roughened legs dragged against his thighs, he wasn’t entirely sure which direction to take. Kissing Rylan was good and hot, but it was a snack when Sloan was hungry for a meal.
After years of restraint, he couldn’t make up his mind about what he wanted first. His mouth on Rylan’s cock? Rylan’s tongue on him? The tight sleeve of Rylan’s ass?