A Total-E-Bound Publication

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Rory‟s Last Chance
ISBN # 978-0-85715-546-7
©Copyright Bailey Bradford 2011
Cover Art by Posh Gosh ©Copyright May 2011
Edited by Claire Siemaszkiewicz
Total-E-Bound Publishing

This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author‟s imagination and
should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is
purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by
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Total-E-Bound Publishing.

Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Total-E-Bound Publishing.
Unauthorised or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or
criminal prosecution.

The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and
Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the
artwork.

Published in 2011 by Total-E-Bound Publishing, Think Tank, Ruston Way, Lincoln, LN6 7FL,
United Kingdom.

Warning: This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers.
This story has been rated Total-e-melting.

Love in Xxchange

RORY’S LAST CHANCE

Bailey Bradford

Dedication

For all y‟all who make the blog such a fun place, this one‟s for you—

Trademarks Acknowledgement

The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks
mentioned in this work of fiction:

Stetson: Stetson Hats

Viagra: Pfizer Inc.

Dodge: Chrysler Group LLC

Chapter One

The noise blaring in the Xxchange was almost obnoxious enough to have Chance turning away
from the bar and heading back to his truck. How anyone could call the clattering racket in the place
music was beyond him, and that was without taking into account the caterwauling that someone was
trying to pass off as singing. Sounded more like two bobcats going at it than anything he‟d ever
considered singing. Nah, the cats had more talent, to be honest.

He let his eyes adjust, determined to give this a shot, because it‟d been way too long since he‟d got
laid and he needed this something fierce. Problem was, he‟d long ago grown tired of bathroom
blowjobs and one night stands. Maybe he‟d just grown up—then again, maybe not—he was out
trolling. Not the same, he decided. When he was younger, he‟d fucked for the fun of it. This,
tonight, wasn‟t going to become a habit, or a challenge. It‟d just been too long and something inside
him yearned for the comfort of another body close to his for more than the time it took to get off.

“Sappy fool.” Chance glanced around the bar, taking in the bodies grinding together on the dance
floor and the forms huddled in pairs or groups in dark corners. God, he felt old—he was old
compared to most the people here. No way was he going to get out on that dance floor and flop
around or dry-hump until he jizzed his jeans. And he was for damn sure not going to put on a show
in some corner, or a table, or a booth.

This whole idea was stupid to begin with. He wasn‟t interested in a twink, which seemed to be the
majority of the bars‟ patronage—he didn‟t have anything against them, simply wasn‟t his thing.
He‟d always preferred his men built more like himself, not body-builder cut but firm rangy muscles
and rough around the edges, and definitely closer to his own age.

Yeah, this was not the place for him. Chance started backing out, noticing that a couple of cute
young things were staring at him—too cute, too young. Looked like a good hard fuck would break
„em. He shook his head to let them know he wasn‟t interested, but it only seemed to have the
opposite effect. The two pretty boys were soon making their way across the bar in Chance‟s
direction, determination evident in their every move. Memories Chance would rather keep
suppressed swirled to the forefront of his mind—there was a reason he didn‟t care to mess with
young, pretty-looking men. He narrowed his eyes at the two men, hoping they would take the hint.

“Like spoilt kids who can‟t stand being told no.” Chance didn‟t care who heard him. Matter of fact,
if he got really lucky, one of those little boys would be able to read lips. He‟d give them a hand
signal but he was pretty sure they‟d just take it as an invitation. His pride wouldn‟t let him back out
and run now—he‟d feel like a wuss. Chased off by two boys—well, they were boys to him, and it
was not going happen. He‟d drop them both if they got grabby on him. Probably make him feel like
a puppy-kicker, but he would deal with it.

“Why don‟t you let me help you out here, cowboy,” a low voice rumbled in Chance‟s ear as a pair
of strong arms wrapped around his waist, pulling his back up against a firmly-muscled chest. He
savoured the feel of corded strength surrounding him, the pinpricks of lust that shot through at each
point where their bodies pressed together.

Hard to miss the press of an engorged dick that close, and if Chance was any judge of that particular
piece of male flesh—and he had to believe he was—it was quite an impressive dick that nestled

against his ass. His own cock took only a beat before firming right up and pushing uncomfortably
against the zipper of his jeans.

“Jesus.” Chance shot his cock a glance, surprised at the immediate response. That hadn‟t happened
in a while—he couldn‟t remember the last time he‟d perked up quite so quickly. A soft chuckle
tickled his ear and rumbled from the chest behind him into his back, vibrating throughout his body.
“Looks like those boys decided to give up the chase,” that deep voice purred, all sex and fire and
smug masculine strength. Chance watched the scowls flitter across the boys‟ faces before they
turned and walked off.

“Huh. Guess so.” Chance started to turn only to stop when the hold around his waist tightened. He
didn‟t know whether to be more turned on or irritated all to hell. When soft lips started nibbling
along the side of his neck, finding their way to the sensitive patch of skin right behind his ear,
Chance gave it all up and let out a low moan. God, when had anyone, including himself, taken the
time for such a thing?

Better yet, why hadn‟t he taken the time—remembered that sex was about more than who put
whose cock where—the sharp nip of teeth tugging at his earlobe slapped all rational thought out of
Chance‟s head. Every muscle in his body tensed and vibrated with need. Large hands began
stroking his stomach, working their way down until fingers feathered across the tip of his prick,
dancing over the wet spot where pre cum had seeped through his jeans.

“Them boys not your thing, cowboy?”

Chance opened his mouth to answer only to snap it shut against a shout of pleasure building in his
chest as the hand teasing his cock suddenly gripped hard, sending a bolt of pleasure-pain to his
balls. A brush of fingertips across a nipple, then a firm twist and Chance knew he was dangerously
close to losing his load as his back tried to bow. All he succeeded in doing was shoving his ass even
harder up against the stranger‟s steely cock—a move he swore left singe marks on his denim-clad
cheeks. The heat coming off the other man was palpable and heady, stirring something inside
Chance that was burning and needy, almost overpowering in its intensity.

“PYTs—pretty young things. Too pretty and way too young,” he finally managed to answer, though
he couldn‟t quite hide his disdain of those two attributes. “Either one alone is bad enough, but put
the two things together…not what interests me.” It took Chance a minute or so to realise the hands
that had been tormenting him in the best possible way had stilled and the big body behind him had
filled with a different kind of tension. He tried to formulate a coherent thought, and once he did, it
dawned on him that he must have offended the other man some way or another.

“Look, I didn‟t mean any insult, if those boys are to your liking. They just aren‟t to mine. I don‟t
like feeling like a cradle-robber.” Or a dirty almost-old man. Chance tried again unsuccessfully to
face the stranger. Now he was getting irritated. He slid his hands, one up and one down, wrapping
his fingers around thick wrists, prepared to pull the man‟s hands from his body. A grunt at his ear
told Chance the mystery man wasn‟t happy about having his hands tugged away from their resting
places.

“Don‟t care for those boys myself. You, now—you‟re to my liking.”

Well, that was too damn bad because Chance was past irritated now and quickly reaching a full-out
mad. This time when he tried to turn, the hands holding him in place actually helped. He spun

around with every intent of telling Mr Grabby Hands just what he thought of him. A blur of
movement was all the warning he had before those soft suckling lips swooped in and stole the anger
right out of Chance. His eyelids dropped shut and his mouth opened wider at the insistent demand
of scorching tongue, lips and teeth. Hard hands grabbed his ass and jerked him in tight, grinding and
pumping.

“God, I want you.”

Chance could barely make out the words that were murmured against his lips, didn‟t get time to
respond before his lips were plundered again. He let go of himself, not caring if they were in a bar
and on display anymore. All that mattered was meeting the other man‟s nips and licks, the sucking
and thrusting of tongues and the rubbing of two thick, hard cocks.

“Want you too,” he finally managed between panting breaths, and he meant it. No one had ever
built up a fire in Chance like this man was doing, least no one he could think of right now. Not that
he was in any shape to think. The stranger‟s groan was long and loud, full of a frustration that
Chance was feeling himself. Somehow he found himself pressed into a shadowed corner, mouth
still under assault and battling back. He faintly registered the snap of his jeans and groaned into the
stranger‟s mouth. Could feel but not hear the rasping of his zipper, then long, callused fingers were
stroking his dick, slow, hard tugs that were close to painful and better than any stroke Chance had
used on himself.

The stranger‟s lips left his, sliding down and latching onto the skin right below his ear, nipped and
sucked hard as a thumb pressed into the slit of his dick. Chance‟s knees tried to give and he grabbed
on to the other man‟s stacked biceps, registering his own large hands barely covered more than half
the width of those bulging muscles. Jesus, the man was huge and it turned Chance on as much as
the handjob he was getting.

“Ah, God! Fuck! So close.” Chance‟s voice came out through gritted teeth, gruff and smoky and
sounding utterly foreign to him. The hand jerking his cock tightened and tugged faster as the
stranger‟s other hand slipped down and forced its way between Chance‟s thighs. Rough fingers
brushed over his perineum before applying slight pressure. Chance jerked so hard his back popped,
the friction sizzling up and down his dick and the outside rubbing of his prostate robbing him of air,
body clenching and tightening until Chance thought his balls were going to crawl up inside his
body.

“Only close?” The stranger spoke against the sensitive skin under Chance‟s ear, and then latched on
hard with his lips and teeth while driving the tip of a thumbnail into the weeping slit of Chance‟s
cock again. The combination one-two assault sent a frisson of searing heat exploding out from the
base of his spine to every nerve ending in Chance‟s body. He yelled before he could stop himself,
clamped his jaws shut and bit the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood as he thrust into the
strangling grip on his cock. His balls tucked impossibly tighter and jettisoned waves of ecstasy to
his cock and out the head in thick white ropes on the stranger‟s hand and Chance‟s shirt. His head
dropped forward, neck too weak to hold it up just then as the other man stepped quietly back and
the hand on his cock disappeared.

Chance took a few stuttering breaths before he realised the man was gone. What the hell? He
assumed the stranger had stepped back to give him a minute to put his pecker back in his pants, or
maybe the man was going to wash his hands. He tucked and zipped hurriedly, embarrassed and
turned on, eager to take this party somewhere quieter. Except the mystery man who‟d said he

wanted Chance must have suddenly had other ideas. When he looked up, all Chance could see of
the person he thought was the stranger was part of a long and densely muscled shoulder and arm
pulling the door to the bar shut on the way out.

Chance stood rooted to the dirty floor, trying to process what had just happened. One minute I’m
covered in warm male flesh that made me feel like pure perfection was all over me, the next minute
I’m left standing with my dick dangling in the breeze and spunk splattered everywhere. Seriously,
what the hell? Confused and feeling worse than when he walked in the bar, Chance straightened his
spine and walked out wearing his dignity and the scent of his own seed.

Chapter Two

“I‟m sorry, Mr Wilson. You just don‟t have the experience that I‟m looking for right now, but I do
appreciate you taking the time to come out for an interview. You have a lot of potential…” Chance
let the sentence peter off as the wannabe cowboy refused the proffered handshake and stalked out of
the office, muttering things Chance didn‟t hear for the most part—other than „pretentious asshole‟.
After that, he stopped listening before he did something to the green city boy they‟d both regret.

Jesus, when had people stopped being civilised to each other? A rush of heat washed over Chance
when he thought about just how uncivilised he‟d been Saturday night, coming like a randy teenager
in full view of everyone in the bar. Embarrassment threatened to ride over him until he was coated
in pink proof of the emotion, but Chance pushed it back. Wasn‟t like he‟d ever be stepping foot in
that bar again. What had started out as one of the hottest experiences in his sexual history had ended
up leaving him feeling confused and angry, something he definitely did not enjoy, best orgasm ever
or not.

Here it was, Monday, and he was still letting the whole thing get to him. Frustrated with himself,
Chance pushed away from his desk, grabbed the next file—Max Jenkins—and walked to the office
door.

Two men sat in the living room waiting to be interviewed. Chance hoped like hell both men would
be qualified for ranch hand positions—he‟d been so busy himself that he hadn‟t had time to do
more than place „help wanted‟ ads in a few papers. He‟d downloaded and printed off some generic
job application online, feeling a bit stupid for doing so, but nowadays a person couldn‟t be too
careful. He‟d want a background check run on anyone he hired.

Considering his luck so far, he might just be better off throwing in the towel and hiring the last two
men applying whether they were qualified or not. Maybe he could train them—he sure wasn‟t
impressed with what had passed through his office already. Not one of the applicants yet was
familiar with ranching or rough stock.

And artificial insemination? He didn‟t even want to go there again. Times were tight, and Chance
understood the need for employment, but he also understood that he had to have some
knowledgeable employees to make his ranch profitable.

“Max Jenkins,” Chance called out, glancing at the backs of the two men. One was slender and wiry,
much shorter than the owner of the broad sexy back on the opposite end of the couch. His cock took
notice of the width of those strong shoulders, causing him to lower the file until he was holding it in
front of his groin. Not a good way to start off an interview with a potential employee. However, it
was the smaller man who stood and turned a weathered face to Chance. A quick inventory told him
this man had logged a lot of time out in the sun, fine lines spread out around his eyes and creasing
his cheeks. The image gave Chance a bit of hope that this man, at least, had some experience that
would be an asset to the Galloway Ranch.

As the man approached, he grinned at Chance and shook his head. “Seems that young city boy was
a might tee‟d off at ya when he left. Max, nice to meet ya, Mr Galloway.”

A smile tugged at the corner of Chance‟s lips. “Yeah, young and green, never spent a day working
on a ranch in his life, and I‟m a pretentious asshole for pointing that out.” He offered his hand to
Max as the smaller man let loose a rusty laugh. This time his handshake was accepted and gripped
in a surprisingly strong hold.

“So, Max, why don‟t you tell me about your experience?” Chance gestured to his office. Max went
in and Chance followed closing the door behind them for privacy to conduct the interview.

* * * *

Rory sat on the couch, white-knuckling the brim of his hat as the city boy stormed out, cursing
Chance Galloway the entire time. Man, if that idiot ruined Rory‟s chances at this job, he‟d…he
didn‟t know what he‟d do. Forcing himself to let up on his unconscious attempt to strangle his
Stetson, Rory carefully kept his head averted from Galloway‟s sight when the man stepped out to
call the next guy in line.

After sitting for an hour and talking to Max, Rory was sure the wiry little man would be hired. He‟d
been let go when the owner of the ranch he‟d worked on for most his life had died suddenly and his
kids had sold the ranch not long after their daddy was in the ground. Max knew his way around a
ranch, that was for sure—but so did Rory.

The fact that he was about the same age as the fit-throwing applicant who was interviewed before
Max would not work in Rory‟s favour. He‟d argue for this job if he had to, though, because he had
more than one reason to want to work here now. He twitched as laughter rang out from the office—
someone was having a helluva time in there.

And why was that bothering him? He didn‟t think he‟d be able to laugh and joke with Chance
Galloway just yet—he was still recovering from the jolt that shot through him when Galloway had
stepped out from the office to call in the first guy in line. It wasn‟t just that the man was hot as hell
with his salted black hair and chestnut brown eyes, and a body that was firmly packed and stacked
in all the right places. It was also the fact that fate had a wicked sense of humour.

The office door opened, and this time Rory dared a peek over his shoulder. Chance and Max were
all smiling and joining each other‟s fan club. Rory‟s frown deepened as he realised what an idiot he

was being. What was wrong with him, anyway? Max had obviously been hired, and was being
congratulated and all that warm fuzzy stuff. He turned away as Max started walking through the
living room, waiting until the man was close to the couch before standing with his back to Chance.

Smiling, Rory clasped hands with Max. “Way to go, Max, congratulations.” Max‟s grin was so
wide it almost looked painful.

“Thanks, Rory. Told Mr Galloway…I mean, Chance, that you seemed to be the only other man out
here who knew his way around working a ranch.” Max slapped Rory on the back, ending with a
push that didn‟t even tempt Rory‟s feet into moving. “Go on, now, you‟re up.”

Rory nodded and wondered why his feet suddenly felt like they were stuck in mud. He wasn‟t an
insecure man, and he knew he was more than qualified for any position on this ranch. If he had to
wheedle his way into a job, that was what he‟d damn well do. He did, however, slap his Stetson on
low and hope that it, along with keeping his head tilted down, might buy him some time before
Chance made any snap judgments.

He couldn‟t put off raising his head—well, he didn‟t have to raise it too far, or he‟d be looking
down at his potential employer—forever. Stepping up to Galloway and tipping his chin up, Rory
offered his hand.

“Rory Calhoun, Mr Galloway.” Rory watched Chance‟s eyes widen and then narrow to unhappy-
looking slits. Hells bells, he’s gonna be all bent over my age, among other things. The idea ticked
Rory off, but he only smiled politely instead. “Should we step into your office, Mr Galloway?”
Anger was replaced with amusement once Rory realised the man was looking kind of shell-
shocked.

“Do I know you, Mr Calhoun?” Those molten brown eyes were narrowed as Galloway‟s gaze
seemed to jump all over Rory, trying to answer the question themselves.

“No, sir, I believe you do not.” At all, but if you really want the opportunity, I’m game. Rory
stopped that train of thought before it left the station—and him with a hard on he wouldn‟t be able
to hide. That was definitely not the kind of first impression he wanted to make.

Galloway gave Rory a slow nod, still looking a little suspicious and displeased. Irritation with the
man‟s attitude burned at the base of Rory‟s spine before settling in his gut. He wasn‟t going to lose
this job just because Mr Chance Galloway had a hang up about age. What was that called anyways?
Age-something? Ageism? He‟d better know that word because he was pretty certain he‟d have to
toss it out there.

“Please step into my office, Mr Calhoun.” The tone of the man‟s voice made Rory feel like
something to be scraped off of his prospective boss‟ shoe. He didn‟t like it one bit. Spine stiffening
until Rory thought it just might snap, he held his head up high as he walked past Galloway and into
the office.

“Have a seat, please, while I look over your information.” Galloway flipped open the folder and
started reading, eyebrows winging up in surprise and grunting softly.

Rory removed his hat before sitting, then had to picture a naked woman to keep his cock from
springing to full mast. The man across from him was entirely too sexy, and that grunt had Rory

thinking… Grandma in a bikini—an image seared into his memory like the worst sort of nightmare,
from when he‟d visited the grandfolks in Florida—caused a meltdown of the grey matter in his
head, but it did the job and knocked his libido down to his ankles.

This time when Galloway met his eyes, Rory was ready for the jolt of electricity that he felt arc
between them—and he had no doubt that the other man felt it, even though he didn‟t like it. Rory
wasn‟t going to do a thing to help the man out—he‟d keep his expression flat and a chorus of
Grandma-Grandma-Grandma ringing in his ears.

“You worked at the Mossy Glenn ranch in Montana for eight years, Mr Calhoun? You seem
awfully young to have been working that long.” The skepticism in the man‟s voice had Rory itching
to poke at him. The implication he was lying threatened to override his common sense, something
he could not allow to happen.

“Rory, please, Mr Galloway. And yes, I did.” Here it comes…

“Yet I can‟t call for a reference? Why is that?” Rory was tempted to tell Galloway that if it was
possible he should let just a little more disbelief drip from his tongue, but he knew he‟d be acting as
immature as the older man thought him to be. Taking a deep breath, Rory dropped his defenses just
enough to answer.

“That would be because my father, Ian Calhoun, wouldn‟t give me one. You can confirm that he is
the owner of the Mossy G with a few clicks of a mouse.” Rory twirled his Stetson around and
around on his fingers, not giving thought to how much of a tell the action was. “I listed a number
for my sister, who still lives and works on the ranch. She can give you a reference and again, it‟s a
simple enough matter to confirm.”

The darting of Galloway‟s eyes to the spinning Stetson had Rory stilling the felt hat immediately.
The older man‟s eyes stayed on that hat where it rested high on Rory‟s thigh. Queen Elizabeth shot
into his mind, dancing a jig.

“Would you…can you tell me what happened to end your employment at the Mossy Glenn?”
Chance‟s voice sounded distracted as he continued staring at what Rory hoped was his hat, but was
beginning to suspect otherwise.

Rory didn‟t let the tone fool him. He could almost see the curiosity rising off Galloway. “No, sir. I
can only tell you that it was personal, having nothing to with my job performance. Again, you can
check with Annabelle on that. She won‟t tell you the why, either, though.”

Galloway finally met his gaze, considering. He tipped his head to the side, baring a corded neck that
made Rory‟s mouth water. Giving up on the dancing Queen, he crossed an ankle over his knee and
let his hat slide against his groin. Galloway‟s eyes narrowed but Rory refused to crack. Stoic, he
could do, mostly.

“So what happens, Mr—Rory,”—Galloway caught himself before Rory had his mouth open more
than half an inch—“when your dad decides to drop whatever it is that pissed him off?”

Stoicism collapsed under the weight of bitter laughter. “Oh, no, no, Mr Galloway. I can assure you
that isn‟t going to happen, not at all. And before you ask about the ranch, it‟s already been deeded
to my sister upon his death. If she tries to sell it to me or let me step one foot on the property, it will

be sold to the current foreman, and let me tell you, that man purely hates my guts.” Rory clamped
his mouth shut, shocked he‟d said so much. Galloway, however, just continued to study him
closely. Rory tried not to fidget but felt exposed after his lunatic breakdown. Now if he lost the job,
he wouldn‟t be able to use the ageism defense.

Galloway leant back in his chair, steepling his fingers under his chin as he stared at Rory. For his
part, Rory felt like he was dissected by the dark, driven gaze, and it unsettled him in a way that
nothing else in recent memory had. He kept his jaw locked tight and did his best to appear sane after
his rambling outburst.

“All right, Rory. You‟re hired, though I will be checking with your sister, you understand.”
Galloway rose and Rory followed quickly, trying to hide his surprise. He‟d expected a tougher
battle for the job, though inside, he felt like he‟d been thoroughly stomped by a bull. Amazing the
pain family can cause.

“Thank you, Mr Galloway,” Rory murmured as he took the older man‟s hand for a quick shake. He
buried the thought that he was certain Galloway hadn‟t made Max‟s job conditional on a reference
check. “I won‟t let you down.”

Galloway gave a sharp nod, still watching him with an intensity that belied his disinterested
attitude. “You can put your things in the bunkhouse—right now it‟s just Max and you. Hopefully
I‟ll be able to add a couple more hands in a few months.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you again, Mr Galloway.” Rory turned and headed out of the house, willing
himself not to babble in gratitude and make himself look like an even bigger fool.

Chapter Three

Chance flopped back into his desk chair, comforted by the creaking noise the leather made at the
impact. His eyes were drawn back to Rory‟s file before he could stop himself. He‟d been prepared
to find some reason not to hire the man, stupid as it may have been, because he was first and
foremost too damned attractive.

Despite being young and having the face of an angel—he even had pale blond curls that framed his
gorgeous face, for Christ‟s sake, and eyes so deep a blue they almost appeared black—he appealed
to Chance on a level that frightened him with its intensity. He‟d had to hide his hard on behind his
desk until he could get some small manner of control. Rory had given him that with his pain-filled
laughter when asked about the reason his own father had fired him.

Fired—hell, disowned was what it was, and Chance had a sneaking suspicion he knew why. Didn‟t
believe it was wishful thinking, either. When the younger man had let his hat slip down to his lap,
Chance had actually gone from having a sneaking suspicion to a damned good idea of why. He
would have laughed if it had happened to someone else—as was usually the case, it wasn‟t funny
when it happened to oneself.

Now he had in his employ one sexy man who, if he‟d been fifteen years older—or at least ten,
Chance could have handled ten—Chance would have…done nothing. He needed help on the ranch
more than he needed to get laid, no matter how much his prick thought otherwise.

That particular part of his anatomy had sat up and taken notice of the blond man like no one before,
with the exception of the stranger at the bar Saturday night.

“Must be it—damned stranger with the magic hands turned me into a horny old man.” Not that
Chance really thought forty was ancient or anything, but in a world that worshipped youth and
beauty, it was hard not to feel old and worn down. Which was a good reason to keep the younger
man at a distance. He wouldn‟t feel any sympathy for the…Rory. Hadn‟t been anyone to pick
Chance up when he‟d been toppled by life, and he‟d made it. Not without an issue or two, but who
didn‟t have at least a couple?

And all this self-examination was a stalling technique and he knew it. He would not allow himself
to feel guilty for doing this to Rory only and not Max as well. Chance trusted his gut, and he was
certain that Max was legit. When it came to the younger of his employees, however, there were just
too many feelings swirling around in Chance‟s head and body for him to believe his judgement
sound towards Rory.

Chance picked up his cell phone then dialled the number listed for one Annabelle Calhoun and was
treated to hellacious music on the other end as he waited for her to answer. Who had ever thought
that bit of technology was a good idea?

“Hello,” a rough voice barked across the line. Chance bit back a snicker of surprise and hoped like
Hades that wasn‟t Rory‟s sister on the phone. If so…eesh.

“I‟m calling for Annabelle Calhoun. May I speak to her, please?”

“Who is this? What do you want with Annabelle?” Chance had a sneaking suspicion the angry man
on the phone was Rory‟s dad, and as much as he was tempted to tell the man why he was calling,
because he was sure Ian Calhoun would tell Rory‟s story in a vitriolic outburst, Chance had enough
integrity to hold himself back.

“Is she available?” Chance kept his voice reasonable and calm. He wanted the reference check on
Rory—the cursing coming across the line proving he was irritating Calhoun senior with his
perseverance was just a bonus.

“I‟ll just call back at another time.” Like when you’re better adjusted to your psych meds. Chance
disconnected the call and turned his phone off for a bit. He was pretty sure he‟d have some fun
messages to listen to later.

Right now, he needed to head over to the bunkhouse and give his employees the detailed worklist
he‟d made up, as well as discuss salary with Rory.

Odd that the man hadn‟t even asked about it, and Chance had to acknowledge that he‟d been too
busy trying to suffocate his attraction to the younger man to even think about salaries. He would
have to get his brain out of his balls and act like the boss instead of an old horndog. Chance just
prayed he was up to the challenge.

* * * *

Chance‟s stomach sunk down to his kneecaps when he discovered Max alone in the bunkhouse.

“Hey, boss, what can I do for you?” Max‟s grin was infectious, reaching out to Chance and inviting
him to share in a laugh at the world in general. How could the man be so cheery? It wasn‟t natural.

“I came to give you and Rory the worklist, answer questions about it if y‟all had any. Also realised I
needed to discuss something with Rory we completely forgot about in his interview. Do you know
where he is?” Chance didn‟t want to ask—he did not want to be alone with the all-too-appealing
man if possible.

“He got a phone call a few minutes ago. Couldn‟t help but overhearing a man‟s voice yelling at
him. You know how loud those cell phones can be.” Max eyed him in a way that made Chance
wonder just what the smaller man was seeing.

“Yeah, they can be very…um. I guess I can leave the list with you and you can fill Rory in on it. I‟ll
just catch up with him on the other thing another time. Or he may be back by the time we‟re done.
If you want, I can wait while you look the list over. Just in case you have any questions.” Chance
sneaked a peek out the door and still didn‟t see Rory anywhere. Maybe he‟d gone out behind the
barn. He turned back to find Max studying him intently.

“He‟s probably done and checking out the place. Said he was gonna do that right „fore his phone
rang, if ya want to go see,” Max suggested.

“No. I doubt he‟d want anyone overhearing…whatever is going on in that call if it‟s not over.”
Guilt tickled Chance‟s brain—had he inadvertently sicced Calhoun senior on Rory? The idea made
him feel like a jackass. Of course he had. The kick he‟d got out of provoking Ian Calhoun had flung
back around and caught Rory upside the head.

“Shit. Okay, Max, here‟s the list. You‟ve both had enough experience for it to be self-explanatory
anyway. If either of you do have questions, just come up to the house. Any time you need anything,
don‟t hesitate.”

Chance had barely placed the paper in Max‟s hand before he was turning and striding out the door,
trying to keep a little dignity by walking fast rather than running. He stopped and listened, hoping to
catch the sound of Rory‟s voice but heard nothing other than the occasional cow or horse. Going on
instinct, Chance headed to the barn, rounding the corner when he reached it. He spotted Rory
slumped against the wall.

“Holding up the barn?” God, when had he got so lame? Chance knew without a doubt he was never
going to get laid again with lines like that escaping out of his mouth. Rory‟s profile was every bit as
fine as the man looked head-on. His full mouth tipped up in a slight smile, at least on the half
Chance could see.

“Look, Rory…” What? I’m sorry your old man’s an ass? Sorry I tried to check your references but
not Max’s? Sorry I’m an ass?

“Annabelle will be calling you as soon as she can get away from Ian, probably tomorrow or the next
day. She texted me after she got her phone back from him. Good thing he doesn‟t know how to
delete numbers and such, huh?” Rory kept his gaze down, staring at, Chance would bet, nothing
other than what was playing out behind his eyes.

He walked closer to the younger man, unable to keep his distance in the face of Rory‟s pain. Chance
wouldn‟t, however, let himself reach out for Rory. That‟s what he thought, at least, and was
therefore the more startled of the two when he brought a hand to rest on Rory‟s shoulder.

“I‟m sorry. Please let your sister know that the references are unnecessary.” Rory‟s dark blue eyes
met Chance‟s and there was no way either man could deny the heat that passed between them.
Chance pulled his hand back, tucking it down deep into his front jeans pocket to keep it from
slipping away from him again.

Still those indigo-coloured eyes stayed on his. This close, Chance couldn‟t help but notice the blue
had small flecks of amber close to the pupil. It was a stark contrast that fascinated him to the point
of distraction, almost like little flames dancing in the midnight depths of the younger man‟s eyes.

Chance couldn‟t make himself move away as Rory brought up a hand and stroked a finger up the
line of his neck, stopping right below his ear. Chance shuddered at the touch, feeling it through
every nerve ending in his body. Rory dropped his hand back to his side and looked away, giving
Chance his profile once again.

“She‟s gonna call you anyway, Mr Galloway. Might as well get what you need. That everything,
sir?” Rory‟s tone never deviated from polite, but damned if it didn‟t piss Chance off because of it.
And sir? Was that really necessary? Probably. Chance‟s brain kicked in and stomped his pride back
down. It wasn‟t like he‟d been anything other than a dick to Rory.

“No, Rory, that‟s not everything. It‟s Chance, not Mr Galloway or sir.” Chance let out a frustrated
sigh as Rory continued gazing at God only knew what. There was no way mesquite brush was that
interesting, though he did manage a slight nod of acknowledgement at Chance‟s words.

“There‟s also the matter of your… God damn it. Okay. I‟m an ass and I‟m sorry and we need to
discuss your salary, all right?” As apologies went, it wasn‟t his best, and it was made out of
frustration, sure, but also sincere regret. Chance wasn‟t normally such an asshole and he knew it.

What set him off with this man was something he wasn‟t ready to delve into yet, so he was afraid he
might have to get used to making apologies.

Rory kept his eyes locked in front of him as he nodded once again.

“All right, Chance. As for the salary, I‟m sure you‟ll be a fair man, yeah? So, if you‟ll excuse me, I
need to…”

It was then that Chance let his mad go, watching the younger man‟s jaw twitch as he stopped
talking. Whatever had happened with that phone call, it had hurt Rory and he wanted, or needed, to
be alone to cope with it with some dignity.

“Still need to discuss it, butlater. Whenever you‟ve got time.” Chance bit his tongue to stop from
offering to listen to whatever was troubling Rory. It‟d be best if he didn‟t know. He headed back to
the bunkhouse and asked Max to keep an eye on Rory and lend him an ear if he thought it was
needed. That handled, Chance went to the ranch house, resigning himself to listening to the voice
mails he‟d undoubtedly received from an irate Ian Calhoun.

Chapter Four

Rory watched out of the corner of his eye as Chance walked away. He was sure the man had been
on the verge of saying something else but reconsidered at the last moment and fled instead to
prevent any words slipping from his lips he might later regret.

Or maybe Chance wouldn‟t regret anything he said. Rory didn‟t really know the man, but in his
opinion, Chance Galloway seemed to be a tightly wound man who was going to snap in half if he
didn‟t find a way to blow off some steam. Rory‟d be more than happy to help Chance with that, but
seeing as how Rory was so young and too damn close to being pretty—which played a part in why
he made sure his body was every bit as masculine as it could be—with those two Chance-declared
evil traits, he‟d have better luck trying to nail the head of the right-wing coalition. Though, come to
think of it, what with everything that had been in the news lately, that might not be such a tough nut
to crack.

And now he was coming up with his own lame jokes. Whatever Chance had must have been
contagious. Rory snorted at that and pushed up off the barn, batting away the hurts and insults his
father had pelted him with. He would have hung up but that never worked before—man would have
just called back and left voicemails. Easy enough to delete, but Rory had never been able to do so
without listening to them first. Glutton for punishment or hope springing eternal? Neither choice
made him happy.

What did lighten his mood a bit was the way Chance hadn‟t been able to look away when their eyes
met and that wicked heat had flared between them. Rory had expected it, but Chance hadn‟t worked
it out. He would soon enough—Rory had ensured it rather foolishly when he‟d given in to
temptation and stroked the path up the side of Chance‟s neck his fingertips tracing over the purple
love-bite under the man‟s ear.

The need to trace that path with his tongue was so overwhelming that Rory‟d had to lock his knees
to keep from moving in closer. Something about the cowboy drew Rory to him. It was a powerful
feeling, an attraction so strong Rory didn‟t care to fight it, especially since he doubted he‟d ever
encounter such a feeling again.

One thing he was sure of—when they finally came together, it was going to be a heart-stopping,
ball-breaking experience in the best ways possible—and it would happen. Just thinking about it
made Rory feel like he‟d been filled with helium. Burdens lifted and floated off, taking away the
residual pain in his heart and tucking it out of sight.

His cock was another story entirely. Fully erect and throbbing to the rhythm of his heartbeat, that
particular part of him was demanding attention. Rory considered it for a minute and concluded that

this problem was not going to go away on its own. It was a sure bet that Chance wouldn‟t be willing
to come back and help him out with it either. He would just have to hope Max was busy or wouldn‟t
notice the hard on Rory would be sporting when he made it back to the bunkhouse. And, if luck was
on his side, maybe Rory could make it into the bathroom and take care of it quietly.

* * * *

Chance was still trying to get past the anger that had blindsided him when he listened to the
messages left by that bigoted ass who claimed to be Rory‟s father. Chance had his doubts—even his
own father hadn‟t been that cruel when he‟d found out his only son was gay. Ian Calhoun was full
of more hate than any person Chance could ever remember meeting before, and having been outed
while he was on the rodeo circuit, he‟d met some pretty sorry excuses for human beings. Enough so
that he‟d thrown in the towel and quit. Some things just weren‟t worth the hell a man had to go
through. Chance had no desire to be a martyr by hanging around a bunch of homophobic cowboys.

Pounding on the speed bag he‟d hung in the garage apartment wasn‟t having the usual effect of
burning off his temper. Instead, his ears were ringing from the constant thump-thump-thump as his
fists struck again and again, echoing in the empty space. He‟d intended to make the place into a
sweet little in-home—or maybe that would be on-property—gym for the ranch hands and himself.
Still intended to once he got the ranch running smoothly and turning a decent profit.

Until then, it was just him and the dangling bag, spending some quality therapy time together. Well,
quality when it worked. Chance popped the bag one more time then caught it and stilled it between
his hands. Might do the other guys, Rory specifically, some good to be able to come up here and
work off their frustrations. Something else he‟d need to talk to the men about.

Chance unwound the tape from his hands, revelling in the burn and aches that streaked through his
joints. He wasn‟t into pain, but the little hurts caused by a hearty workout were a reward for a job
well done. Twisted, him? Most likely. One thing he did know for certain was, he needed to get
cleaned up. He‟d worked out for a good while and was soaking with sweat.

Chance took the stairs down two at a time, worried less about tripping than he was about being
caught out by one of the men—Rory, specifically. He‟d rather the younger man not see him like
this, tired and dripping wet from physical exertion. Chance scowled. What the hell was wrong with
him? There‟d be plenty of times Rory and Max would be seeing him sweaty and exhausted. It was
stupid to be vain about it, and Chance didn‟t consider himself to be a stupid man. He made it in
through the back door and headed for his shower.

It wasn‟t until he was standing in front of the bathroom mirror that he let his eyes be drawn to the
path his fingers had itched to trace all day long. He‟d swear he could still feel the warmth of that
strong, callused finger running up his neck, coming to a rest at…oh. Oh shit.

Right at that dime-sized purple mark under his ear. Chance had tried to hide the hickey left there by
the stranger at the bar. He‟d brushed his hair forward and that should have worked since it was long
enough that it fell almost to his shoulders now. Chance leant in closer to the mirror. Yeah, his hair

definitely covered it, which meant that sometime during the day he must have brushed his hair away
from the mark.

Here he had been bitching about young irresponsible men. Chance felt like a hypocrite, running
around marked like a horny kid and liking it, damn it. It was no coincidence that Rory had touched
that mark—now he‟d think Chance was definitely a horny old goat once it became obvious he
didn‟t have a partner. Which meant Chance was in deep shit, no matter how happy his cock was and
no matter how insistently it tapped against his belly its own Morse code message of approval. He
groaned, but whether it was in pleasure or complaint he decided not to examine too closely. He was
pretty sure he wouldn‟t like the answer.

Chapter Five

Rory caught Chance sneaking glances at him off and on all day. No doubt he‟d got the man to
wondering—soon enough the wondering would turn into a fully-fledged a-ha moment—then the
fun would really start. Rory was tempted to cackle evilly and rub his hands together just to watch
Chance‟s back snap ramrod straight, but that would be a dead giveaway and he much preferred
drawing out the suspense as long as possible. It would make the prize that much sweeter.

Rory made sure he was standing in Chance‟s line of vision when he tossed the last feed sack into its
place. He kept his head casually averted and pulled the hem of his shirt up to wipe at his sweaty
face. So the older man thought Rory was too young and pretty, hmm? Well, he‟d give Chance a
reason to correct his thinking, or at least view him in a different light. Rory pulled the shirt up
higher, making sure his eight-pack was out there as well as his pecs and nipples…which happened
to be pierced.

If the groan he heard was any indication, he‟d been successful in diverting Chance‟s attention from
anything other than his body. Rory turned his back to the man before he lowered his shirt, because a
glimpse of his back piece might just draw out another stifled sound. It did, and Rory had to keep his
back to Chance since he couldn‟t tamp down his grin. This was too much fun. Rory had never been
a cock tease before.

“You about done here, Rory?” The gravelly sound of Chance‟s voice, breath tickling the back of
Rory‟s neck, nearly had him jumping before he could stop himself. Sheer willpower pushed the
sound back down his throat although he couldn‟t do much about the startled twitch.

“Looks like it‟s all unloaded to me, sir. I mean, Chance.” That really was a nervous slip, but Rory
found it hard to be sorry when the man bristled with indignation so splendidly. The heat between
them ratcheted up a few notches higher—if this kept up, they might have to worry about
spontaneous combustion.

A growl from Chance was all the warning Rory had before he was grabbed by a shoulder and pulled
around to face the other man. He didn‟t have the time to school his expression into one of casual
amusement. No, when he faced Chance it was with a hot, hungry look and a cock hard enough to
hammer nails.

“Office. Now.” The clipped order wasn‟t even all the way out before Chance was eating up the
ground with long-legged strides—and Rory was hot on his heels, eyes glued to the perfectly
rounded ass that flexed with each step. Jesus, this walk was going to kill him, stop his heart any
time now.

Rory‟s cock throbbed painfully as he watched Chance take the porch steps. There simply couldn‟t
be a more perfect sight than that ass, unless it was one of said ass bare and flexing, pushing to pump
those trim cowboy hips…

The walk through the house to the office passed in a blur of potent need and bunching muscles.
Rory pretty much decided he‟d follow his boss anywhere as long as he could keep his eyes on that
tight denim-clad bubble. The man was fine from top to toe, but his ass…that particular part just
defied description. Disappointment soared through Rory when they reached the office and Chance
turned around. Well, but that was a damn fine view, too.

“Take a seat.” The boss man turned his back and Rory„s spine stiffened almost as much as his cock.
Chance was rolling free with the orders. Yeah, he was the boss, but if an order didn‟t make sense
Rory had no problem questioning it.

“I‟d rather stand, if you don‟t mind. I‟m kind of sweaty and don‟t feel like sticking to the leather, or
sliding off of it, either.” Rory would have tried to smile, but every part of him was tense and hard.
There was so much blood rushing south that his lips felt numb.

Chance turned on him, stepping into his personal space, just a hair‟s breadth away from brushing
their cocks together. Rory could feel the heat rolling off Chance—the man was like a walking
furnace.

A hard hand smacked into his chest as Chance walked Rory three steps backwards and shoved,
sending him into the chair in an undignified sprawl. His temper spiked, but when he looked up and
met Chance‟s furious brown glare, he tamped it back down.

The older man was on edge—anger and sexual tension pouring off him so thick Rory could smell it.
If he thought provoking Chance would end in fucking, he would have seriously considered it—
though an angry fuck wasn‟t what he was after.

However, the clenched fists and tightening across his boss‟s face and shoulders pretty much assured
Rory that any physical contact between the two of them would not be of the enjoyable sort. He
made certain to take a quiet calming breath once Chance turned his back and walked to his desk.
Rory also carefully schooled his features into what he hoped was an expressionless mask. He didn‟t
want Chance to see anything there that might give the man cause to fire him, or, even more likely,
something that would spook Chance. Watching the stiff, jerky movements as Chance reached his
desk and pulled out the worn chair made Rory feel better about controlling his own temper. Maybe
a little smug about it, too, though he didn‟t want to examine that too closely.

When the other man finally looked at him, Rory didn‟t flinch or blink. The slight flaring of
Chance‟s nostrils was a tell for the increasing anger the man was feeling, and for some bizarre
reason, Rory found that small movement erotic as hell. Jesus, was he going to develop some weird-
ass nose fetish now? When had he become so cracked? There was something else he didn‟t want to
examine too closely. Must be a day for unwanted revelations.

Now, to see how the boss man wanted to play this out. He was sure it would be interesting.

Chance closed his eyes briefly, and in the space of a breath went from angry to composed. It was a
fascinating change done so rapidly that Rory couldn‟t help but be impressed. When those dark
chocolate eyes opened again and latched on to Rory, his cock gave a sudden jerk he was sure
couldn‟t be missed—and this time he wasn‟t going to try to hide it. Boss man could deal. The heat
that snapped back into Chance‟s eyes had nothing to do with anger. When he finally met Rory‟s
eyes, Rory merely tipped his head in acknowledgement—Yes, sir, boss, all for you.

“No.” Chance was shaking his head like he‟d heard Rory‟s thoughts. Rory just arched a brow and
waited—after all, he wasn‟t the one who‟d demanded this little chat. He took note of his boss‟s
knuckles turning white as the man gripped the edge of the desk. Maybe he needed a push.

“No?”

A sharp shake of his head and Chance was looking angry all over again. “No. None of…” He tipped
his chin down in what Rory assumed was supposed to be the direction of his engorged cock. “That.
None of that.”

Rory didn‟t know whether to laugh or snarl. He danced the tips of his fingers over his groin. “You
mean this? My dick? None of it what?” Be damned if he was going to let boss man speak without
saying anything.

Chance‟s cheeks went ruddy. “You know what I mean! I don‟t mess around with employees or…”
He gestured at Rory in frustration, hand flapping through the air before landing on the arm of the
chair. “Pretty young things.”

“Didn‟t ask you to, sir.” Not out loud, at least. The boss‟s dark brows drew together and that
fluttering hand came off the arm of the chair to point a finger at Rory.

“Then what was that little show you put on outside?”

Rory shrugged. “Wiping sweat off before it could run in my eyes? That was a show?”

Chance opened his mouth, looking madder than nine hells, but Rory wasn‟t going to let him get all
indignant.

“You were watching, boss, you had been all morning. What‟re you hiding under that desk, right
now?” That shut the man right up. Chance‟s full lips disappeared into a thin line.

Yeah, they both knew what he was hiding under that chunk of oak.

“It doesn‟t matter. You work for me, you‟re too…” The boss shook his head and kept glaring at
Rory.

Alrighty, then. Rory stood up and strolled over to the desk.

“Too young and too pretty? Right? That‟s your hang up, cowboy, not mine. Just so happens I‟m
into older and cantankerous, just this once, though God only knows why.” Rory slapped his hat
back on his head and left Chance sitting there, mouth dropped open like a blowup doll.

* * * *

Later that evening Chance stumbled into the shower, aching in places he‟d never even known
existed. He felt a moment of smugness at having managed to remain aloof any time he‟d had to deal
with Rory throughout the day—and just like that, a simple thought of the man‟s name, and a
particular part of himself that he was very familiar with became the most throbbingly painful part of
his anatomy.

“Fuck.” Chance glared down at his cock, trying to decide if he was more irritated or amused with
the way it sprang to life so easily. Amazing, really—Rory was the equivalent of a huge dose of
Viagra. Chance shuddered at that thought. No matter how sexy Rory was, comparing the man to
anything relating to erectile dysfunction was a tad messed up.

He stepped under the shower, letting the hot water pound away at his sore muscles. The way the
water slicked over his body, glistening and shimmering, made Chance flip through half a dozen
images of Rory working in the heat earlier, sweat soaking his skin and tormenting Chance with a
need to touch

“Freakin‟ ridiculous.” And it was. Every time the younger man had deigned to look at Chance, it
had been with distance and nothing else in his gaze. Apparently Chance had obliterated anything the
man had felt for him, which just fit in with the perception that Rory was too young. Or too fickle.

Sighing, Chance tipped his head back against the shower wall. Maybe all the lack of interest in the
younger man‟s gaze meant something else that wasn‟t Rory‟s fault. Could mean Chance was an
asshole who‟d been cruel and judgmental and once Rory saw that, his desire to fuck his boss dried
up and blew away.

Whatever it was, it also meant there was no one to help with the erection that refused to go away on
its own. Groaning, Chance finally gave in to the need for release and fisted his dick. Giving up the
battle, he let images of Rory wash over him, gliding over his skin in a heated need that stole
Chance‟s breath at the same time it sent fear-tipped goose bumps skittering over his body.

He‟d never wanted anyone like he wanted Rory, and that want scared him as much as it scorched
him. He wasn‟t even able to keep the man‟s name from bursting from his lips when his orgasm
ripped through him. All Chance could do with that realisation was stare stupidly as the water
washed his semen down the drain.

* * * *

Rory managed, just barely, to keep himself in check around Chance for the next two weeks. No
teasing glances, tempting the other man with provocative poses, or removing his shirt when the
older man was around. Hell, they‟d even sat down in the office again and worked out the salary

issue, all with Rory on his best behaviour. That wasn‟t the only time they‟d been in Chance‟s office
after what Rory thought of as the club revelation—he knew Chance knew it‟d been Rory touching
him and bringing him off at the club. Rory who had left a mark on the sexy tanned skin.

It was driving Rory crazy, because Chance had been sneaking peeks as often as he thought he could
get away with it. Even if he hadn‟t caught several of those secretive glances, Rory would have
known Chance wanted him—it was evident in the hard erection the man tried to cover any time the
two of them were near each other.

Rory snorted. Well, it was obvious the man‟s body wanted him, anyway. Even more so now that the
results of that second post-revelation office visit were in. That was the visit when Chance had called
him and Max in to let them know they‟d need to go to town the next day, all three of them, for full
physicals. Results had come in the mail today, and Rory had been unsurprised to be clean—he
didn‟t see how he wouldn‟t be..

Despite the fact that Rory was perfectly healthy, he wasn‟t very happy. Problem was, Rory had
tried being good, and tried being bad, but nothing was working. It didn‟t matter one bit if Chance‟s
prick was hard if the man wouldn‟t let go of his prejudices.

Obviously, the boss wasn‟t going to, which made Rory wonder what the hell was wrong with him?
Yeah, he‟d worked beside the man many times now and had come to admire his work ethic and
intelligence. But it didn‟t matter. The man didn‟t want him. No, that wasn‟t true—Chance didn‟t
want to want him.

Rory had a flashback to the club, of Chance trying to back away from two determined PYTs who‟d
had no regard for anything but their own desires. Was that what he was doing? Chance had made
his position more than clear and he hadn‟t given in to his body‟s demands, probably never would.
Was that why he wanted the older man so much, because he was a challenge?

But Rory had wanted Chance as soon as he‟d spotted him in the club, before h knew anything about
Chance‟s likes or dislikes.

“Fuck this.” Rory brushed his hair, still damp from the shower, and grabbed his hat. He‟d had
enough of chasing his own thoughts in circles, and enough of feeling not good enough for anyone.
He had lost his family, and the one man he was interested in was not reciprocating, and damn it,
Rory was tired of feeling unloved and unwanted. The loneliness was a constant ache he kept buried
under a façade of nonchalance, and that façade was wearing exceptionally thin tonight.

“Going out, Max, I‟ll probably be in really late.” Or really early, depending on the point of view.
He nodded at Max, who just stared at him, looking for all the world like he expected Rory to stop
and ask what he wanted. Not happening. Frustration and anger and just plain need were tearing
through Rory with steel talons and he could not deal with it any more.

Rory closed the door firmly behind him and sprinted from the porch to his truck, never mind if he
looked like a fool. The only thing that mattered was getting the fuck away from Chance Galloway,
and just maybe, he could find someone who did want him, and the loneliness would quit tearing at
him at least for the night.

Chapter Six

He could do this. Working with Rory these past couple of weeks had been an eye-opening
experience for Chance. The younger man worked hard and knew what he was doing. He wasn‟t too
proud to do any task, didn‟t think he was too good to follow orders—although he didn‟t hesitate to
speak up if he had a suggestion on how something could be done more efficiently. And damned if
his suggestions weren‟t dead-on.

The man had shown more restraint than Chance, more than he had thought Rory capable of, and a
level of maturity that was impressive as hell. Chance took a minute to make sure his hair was
brushed into place, checking his reflection for the hundredth time and trying to ignore the fine
trembling of his fingers.

God, he was as nervous as a virgin, which was just stupid. He was far enough from a virgin, thanks
to his horny youth, that if he had as many pricks sticking out of him as he‟d had poking in him, he
might come close to resembling a damn porcupine.

And wasn‟t that part of his problem? Just because he‟d been something on the easy side when he
was younger, he thought everyone else was, too. Chance knew it was wrong to think like that, and
he‟d been working to try to rectify it, much as he‟d worked to change his easy ways years ago.

The sound of an engine starting up and roaring down the drive penetrated Chance‟s ruminations.
Who would be leaving and where would they be going? Max didn‟t have any family that Chance
knew of, and Rory‟s family had disowned him, besides which they were over a thousand miles
away.

Rory… A sinking feeling in the pit of Chance‟s gut had him rushing out of his house and banging
on the bunkhouse door. He‟d looked around quick enough to know Rory‟s truck was gone, and that
fact had anger battling with fear and shame. Max pulled the door open, a knowing look in his eyes
when he saw Chance standing there.

Chance started to speak then realised he didn‟t quite know how to ask what he wanted to know. It
wasn‟t like Rory didn‟t have the right to enjoy his evening off, and it for damn sure wasn‟t like
Chance had the right to out anyone other than himself to Max.

“He left, said he‟d be in late.”

The sinking feeling in Chance‟s gut turned into a ton of lead. Too late, he‟d waited too long. He
couldn‟t even be mad at Rory for giving up—God knew Chance would have just stopped after the
first rejection and—Christ. Hadn‟t the younger man had a gullet full of rejection lately?

Max leant on the door frame and tipped his head. “Seems to me ya‟d pretty much be a fool to leave
him be, if you‟ll excuse me for sayin‟ so. But maybe someone oughta tell ya—and you‟re gonna
catch flies.”

Chance snapped his mouth shut with an audible click, narrowing his eyes at the wiry man before
him.

“What are you talking about, Max?” Chance kept his voice low and flat.

Max just rolled his eyes and snorted. “Jesus, boss, it‟d take a dead man not to feel what‟s bouncing
back and forth betwixt the two of ya. I ain‟t one of those…I don‟t care who does…damn it!” Max‟s
cheeks were burning red, but Chance thought he got the picture. “Just, go before ya both do
something that can‟t be taken back already.” Max reached out and nudged Chance, and that was all
it took. He didn‟t want it to be too late, and he wouldn‟t let either of them screw this up any further.

* * * *

Rory sat at the bar nursing his beer as he glared at the young man sitting beside him. Petite, curly
black hair with large aqua eyes that sparkled and full lips that would look beautiful stretched around
his cock. The man was as close to perfect as anyone Rory had ever seen—and he did absolutely
nothing for Rory. Not even the image of those red lips opening wide could get so much as a twitch
from his cock, damn it. None of the men who‟d come by trolling had interested Rory no matter how
much he wished it otherwise.

It just pissed him off in every direction.

“Not interested, Jesse. Go away.” The growl in his voice only seemed to pique the delicate man‟s
interest. He reached out and stroked a fine-boned hand up Rory‟s thigh, only stopping when Rory
slapped at the offending appendage to knock it away.

“Oh, come on now, I bet I could make you interested real fast. You‟ll feel a lot better once
you‟ve… Hey, my name is Justin, not Jesse.” A frown marred the smooth perfection of
Justin/Jesse‟s brow. “You won‟t forget it after tonight.”

Rory just stared at the other man. Was this how he‟d made Chance feel before he‟d backed off? No
wonder he‟d pushed Rory away—this was damned annoying. He almost fell off his barstool when a
delicate hand brushed over his cock and grasped firmly.

“Hey, you‟re not even hard. Are you sure you‟re gay?” Justin looked genuinely confused.

Rory reached down and pried the hand from his groin, not caring if he hurt the man at this point.
He‟d had enough of being groped. Aqua eyes grew big as dinner plates as Justin tried to free his
hand. Guess he‟d squeezed too hard, but maybe that would teach the man to keep his hands to
himself.

A strong hand grasped Rory‟s chin, pulling his head up and around, startling a gasp out of him. He
had just enough time to hear a rumbling, “Damn right he is,” before his mouth met Chance‟s with a
bruising force of teeth and tongue.

Now that had his dick trying to burst through the seam of his jeans. The hand that reached down to
rub Rory wasn‟t soft or fine boned. Nothing about the man eating away at his mouth was soft. Rory
groaned as his dick was rubbed harder and his lower lip sucked and nipped.

“Fuck. Oh my God, you two are so fucking hot!” Justin‟s voice sounded way too close, and when
Chance finally lifted his lips from Rory‟s, it was to glare at the dark-haired man.

Justin had got off his bar stool and sidled up against Rory‟s knee—where he was even now grinding
his prick. A vision of his old dog Skit trying to hump visitors‟ legs flitted through Rory‟s mind just
about the time that Chance grabbed a handful of Justin‟s shirt and pulled him around to where the
cowboy was standing. Rory watched the older man lean down and whisper something in the
delicate man‟s ear.

Whatever it was, it lit a fire under Justin‟s ass. He cast a wary look at Chance and Rory before
turning away and disappearing onto the crowded dance floor. Rory turned back to Chance, wanting
to ask what exactly he‟d told Justin but he didn‟t get a word out before he was being kissed again,
Chance‟s tongue fucking deep into his mouth and drawing a groan from Rory that he felt in the pit
of his stomach. Fuck, but the man could kiss. Chance lifted his lips and stood staring down at Rory.

The desire burning in his searing brown eyes sent a spike of heat straight to Rory‟s balls then
quickly shot up his cock, seeping out in a spurt of wet heat. The scent of pre cum hit Rory—damn,
but he needed. He closed his eyes, trying to get his unruly cock under control.

A sharp inhalation and a hand gripping his biceps had his eyes flickering back open. Chance was
staring at the growing wet spot and his breath was coming in jerky spasms, which Rory‟s lungs
strived to emulate. With a quick move, Chance plopped Rory‟s hat on his head—he hadn‟t even
realised it had fallen off.

“S‟go,” Chance growled, then he was holding tight to Rory‟s hand and leading him to the exit of the
bar. Rory followed along willingly, but a little niggling part of him was scared to death. He‟d never
felt like this for anyone, never felt like he had to have them or die. It was extreme, overpowering,
and completely irresistible.

He had questions—yes, sir, he did—but there was no way he‟d ask and risk bringing this to a
screeching halt. Maybe, after he‟d come two or four times, he would be able to think clearly enough
to string a sentence or two together. Or maybe he‟d have Chance out of his system and the
questions wouldn‟t matter anymore.

Rory barely had time to pull the door shut before Chance was tugging him out to the parking lot—
right past Rory‟s truck.

“What…”

Chance gave a sharp shake of his head. “Get to mine first.” Rory glanced around the parking lot,
searched it twice before he spotted the older man‟s truck parked in a dark corner. Yeah, his boss
was a pretty damn smart man, already pressing the button to unlock the doors to the dark blue
Dodge. Rory reached for the passenger door handle only to have Chance nudge his hand away.
Chance opened the door as Rory looked at him, admiring the fierce look on the man‟s handsome
face. Then Rory hissed as Chance placed a hand to his chest and pushed. Rory tumbled backwards
onto the seat, landing hard enough that the air rushed from his lungs. Or maybe that had to do with
the long callused fingers that had already got his pants open and were even now pulling his cock
from his boxers.

“Ah, fuck! Can‟t…not yet.” Rory squirmed and tried to scoot across the seat to get away before he
embarrassed himself. A hard hand latched onto his hip, digging in deep and pinning him down,
leaving a five-fingered blessing. Chance‟s other hand stroked Rory‟s cock from base to tip, thumb
twirling under the sensitive head before sweeping across the glistening slit. Rory yelled and bucked
his hips, shutting his eyes tight and trying to force back his orgasm.

“You can, baby, and you will.” It didn‟t register, what the breath against his cock head signified,
until Chance laved across it with a swipe of his tongue.

“Fuck! Ch…Chance! Jesus God!” Rory was babbling like a fool and could do nothing to stop it.
The fact that it was Chance who was tracing over the thick veins of Rory‟s cock with the tip of an
erotically charged tongue was almost in itself enough to make Rory come.

He thrust his hands into Chance‟s hair, knocking the man‟s Stetson onto the floorboard. Rory
paused for a second, trying to get some control before he started thrusting into Chance‟s mouth like
some inexperienced kid. Didn‟t matter—Chance took the control from him by sucking Rory‟s
spongy cock head into his mouth and swirling his tongue in a series of moves that had Rory‟s back
bowing so hard only his shoulders and ass were touching the seat.

He thrust into Chance‟s mouth, unable to stop himself, screaming as he reached Chance‟s throat,
louder still when the man swallowed and pleasure so sharp it hurt shot through every point in his
body then rebounded straight into his balls. Chance‟s throat pulsed again as his talented tongue
swept over every hypersensitive part of Rory‟s cock. Rory tried to jerk his hips back as he felt the
hot spunk racing from his cock, tried to give Chance a choice. A growl vibrated along his cock as
Chance sucked harder, keeping Rory firmly in his mouth.

“Safe, safe, safe.” It was all Rory could give the man, couldn‟t think clearly enough to explain any
better, but Chance got it, humming in agreement. Then Rory was coming and coming, ass clenching
tight and thigh muscles bunching, his cock spewing heated spurts as his eyes crossed from the
strength of his release and the knowledge Chance wanted this, wanted to taste him and swallow his
seed. Rory couldn‟t find his breath, couldn‟t feel past the ecstasy and the hard frantic pounding of
his heart as he bellowed his pleasure.

Chance ran his tongue over Rory‟s softening cock, licking and sipping from the tip until every drop
of cum was swallowed up and the semi-erect member was glistening from its tongue-bath. Lips and
tongue slid over Rory‟s cock one last time before pulling back with a slurping sound. The shudder
that coursed through Rory‟s body made his teeth chatter before he pried his eyes open to meet
Chance‟s dark gaze.

“That should hold you till we get home, yeah?”

Rory tried to get his mouth to work but gave up and just nodded. The man damned neared killed
him with a blowjob then expected him to be able to answer? Rory couldn‟t even think, for fuck‟s
sake. He drew in a couple of deep breaths, grinning at the self-satisfied smirk on Chance‟s lips.
God, the man was entirely too sexy for Rory to resist. And now he knew the older man was such an
expert with his mouth, Rory was sure he would never lack for fantasies again. Not that they could
really compare to the real thing, because, holy shit!

Rory was pulled out of his thoughts by a big hand slapping against his thigh. He met Chance‟s gaze,
felt his breath stop in his lungs. The need he saw in those almost-pitch depths sent all sorts of
feelings crashing through Rory, every one of which he was afraid to look at too closely.

“Think you can drive yet, „cause I would surely love to get back to the ranch.” Chance‟s voice was
low and gruff, threaded with desire that had Rory‟s dick ready for round two. Chance noticed—his
swiftly indrawn breath almost whistling as the air squeezed into the man‟s lungs.

Rory stroked his prick once, watching as the very skin seemed to tighten across Chance‟s cheeks.
The narrow look that move got him had Rory putting his parts back in his jeans. He was pretty sure
if he didn‟t quit teasing he was going to end up getting more than he bargained for right here in the
parking lot.

Chance grabbed Rory‟s arm and half pulled him out of the truck before pinning him against the
extended cab door. Their mouths collided in a tangle of aggression, biting and pushing against one
another with a force that drew blood from them both. The coppery taste hit Rory‟s tongue and had
him pressing his head back against the truck in an attempt to soften the kiss. Chance followed suit,
licking Rory‟s lips gently in apology before sealing his mouth to Rory‟s in a soul-stealingly sweet
move that made the very ground shift beneath the younger man‟s feet.

“Christ,” Chance murmured against Rory‟s lips, sending a shiver straight down his spine. Rory tried
to speak, to agree, but his throat felt tight and words would not come.

“Let‟s go home.” Chance placed a chaste kiss on Rory‟s swollen lips before nudging him in the
direction of his truck.

Managing a nod and a cocky grin of his own, Rory forced his heavy limbs to move. Part of him was
afraid that in the amount of time the drive would take, Chance would find some reason to put the
brakes on what was burning between them.

Another part was equally terrified that Chance wouldn‟t, and the teeming emotions that Rory was
trying so hard to batten down would break through the surface. If that happened, he would end up
shattered when Chance rejected his affections. Despite that very real concern, Rory reached his
truck in no time. He could not turn away from whatever it was Chance would offer him, even if it
meant risking his heart.

Chapter Seven

“Goddamnit!” Chance‟s hands shook as he steered the truck out of the club‟s parking lot. He‟d just
blown Rory in the parking lot, much as he‟d done other men, and had been done to him, numerous
times in his misguided youth. Damn it, he‟d worked hard to overcome that part of himself that
treated sex like a game. He‟d done so very well, for so many years—yet tonight he‟d just reverted
in a snap.

All it had taken was for Chance to walk in the Xxchange and see Rory being mauled by the pretty
dark-haired man. That sight flipped some switch inside Chance that made him want to possess and
dominate Rory, and it scared the hell out of him.

Therein lay one difference between the actions of his youth and those of tonight. Tonight wasn‟t
about having fun. What happened between him and Rory was tangled up in thoughts and feelings
that Chance had never dealt with before. He wasn‟t sure he‟d dealt with them tonight, exactly.
Chance had been unable to think about what he was doing—he only did it, couldn‟t do anything but
follow his body‟s demands.

This wasn‟t a one-time thing, at least not for him, and he didn‟t think it was for Rory, either.
Grunting to himself, Chance could at least admit that much. He‟d had an overpowering need to
claim Rory, to mark him and imprint himself on the younger man. If the way the man had
responded, all sexy sounds and hot skin, had been anything to judge by, Chance had done what he‟d
intended to do.

The headlights from Rory‟s truck grew closer in the rearview mirror drawing Chance‟s attention
away from his thoughts. Rory was driving pretty damn close to Chance‟s bumper, which did funny
things to his heart.

“Looks like someone is in a hurry, though hopefully not too much of one.” Chance reached down
and squeezed his dick through soft denim. He was so ready to go a pothole might set him off. Jesus,
he wanted to take all night with Rory, but at the rate his dick was leaking, he‟d be lucky if he didn‟t
come before the other man finished stripping.

Chance slid his hand down a little lower and grasped his balls, clenching them tight enough to have
tears stinging his eyes. It only helped a little bit—his dick didn‟t soften any but at least he could
focus on something other than reaming Rory‟s tight ass—

“Damn it!” Chance squeezed again. “If this keeps up I won‟t have any fucking balls left by the time
we get home!”

Contracts, he‟d think about the contracts he was hoping to someday get with the SWGR. The
Southwest Gay Rodeo was something Chance wished he‟d been aware of when he‟d been
rodeoing—he might have been able to stay in the circuit for a few more years had he joined it when
it started up. But no, he‟d been a cocky young fool, and it had cost him.

Chance pulled onto the dirt road leading down to the ranch and instantly, Rory was tight on his tail.
If he had to break for a deer or any other critter, they were screwed. Chance gave the truck more
gas, telling himself it was to create a little space between the two vehicles, but he couldn‟t convince
himself of that when he was burning to get home, to get Rory inside and strip the man bare.

Rory‟s truck zoomed past him once they pulled into the drive, drawing a pained laugh from Chance.
Looked like he wasn‟t the only one in a hurry. He opened his door just in time to have Rory reach in
with both hands and half lift him from the truck. Damn, the man was strong.

Chance was vaguely aware of two cowboy hats flying into the truck as Rory took his mouth with a
hunger that matched Chance‟s own. He couldn‟t register the tongues and teeth, the fitting together
of lips as any one individual act—instead, Chance‟s whole body felt like it was being consumed by
Rory. A hard tug had their bodies pressed together from chest to knees. Arms like steel bands

clamped around Chance and tried to merge two bodies into one. All Chance could do was meet that
kiss, hold on to Rory for dear life and hope like hell he wouldn‟t be as changed from this one
moment in time as he feared.

Somehow, with this kiss, Chance felt that he was the one being possessed, and he‟d given Rory part
of his soul in the claiming. A bolt of fear shot through Chance, but he couldn‟t find the strength to
pull away. Jesus, if giving up a part of himself meant this powerful heat surging through his body
would continue, he‟d do it—again and again, until there was nothing of himself left without Rory.

And that was something that sent a quiver throughout him, and he didn‟t want to think about it
anymore. Chance shut his mind down and let his body take over, sucking on Rory‟s tongue and
drawing a low moan from the man. Big hands clasped Chance‟s ass and forced his cock to mash up
against Rory‟s.

Chance would swear he could feel every protruding vein on the other man‟s thick cock even
through the layers of clothes. He ground his cock against Rory‟s, friction and pressure making it
give up beads of pre cum. He was so close…

“Rory.” Chance pulled back just enough to speak, letting the name brush over the younger man‟s
kiss-swollen lips. Rory tried to dive back into Chance‟s mouth with a single-minded determination
that had Chance forcing his hands between them until he could shove against the hard wall of
muscle that was Rory‟s chest.

It didn‟t budge the man an inch.

“Rory!” Well, if Max hadn‟t known they were back, he surely did when Chance yelled. Rory raised
his head, a lust-glazed look on his face. Chance cupped Rory‟s cheek, pressing his fingertips down
with enough force to focus the man‟s attention.

“Inside, Rory. We need to go inside.” Rory grunted and grabbed Chance‟s wrist, whirling around
and tugging him towards the house.

Chance dug in his boot heels and brought them both to a stop. He wasn‟t sure he liked feeling like a
caveman‟s catch.

Wasn‟t sure he didn‟t, either.

He jerked his arm back hard, spinning Rory around to face him. The expression on the younger
man‟s face almost undid Chance. Fear, hurt, need—they danced across Rory before the man shut
them down. He thinks I’ve changed my mind, turning him away again, Chance realised. Chance
stepped up to his soon-to-be lover, keeping his eyes locked on the younger man‟s. He noted the fine
tremor working through the big blond‟s body, the sheen of sweat on his upper lip and brow, the
choppy breaths Rory struggled to regulate. Chance noticed it all, and felt a piece of his heart break
right off and fall at the younger man‟s feet.

“Just wanted you beside me, baby, that‟s all. That‟s all.” Chance slid his free arm around Rory‟s
waist, aching for the man now in more than just a physical sense.

Rory stared down at him, so still now that he was barely breathing and not batting an eyelash.
Finally he nodded and released Chance‟s other arm, muttering as he did so.

“What‟s that, baby? What is it?” He wanted to know so he could do whatever necessary to reassure
Rory.

Rory shook his head. “Thought you were changing your mind again, s‟all. Just stupid, I guess.”

The moon was full and bright enough that Chance could see the red slashes on Rory‟s cheeks. It
made him feel like shit, because he knew he‟d done this to the man. He clasped a hand to Rory‟s
chin and pulled his head around, waiting for Rory to meet his eyes. When he did, the sadness in that
melting midnight gaze hit Chance like a kick to the gut. Now Rory wasn‟t the only one shaking.

“You‟re not stupid, Rory, never that. I wouldn‟t expect you not to be wary after the way I‟ve done
you, and I‟m sorry.” The worry in those gorgeous eyes slipped away as Chance leant in for a soft
kiss. “Nothing is going to stop me tonight, I promise.”

The smile that lit up Rory‟s face made Chance want to make the man all sorts of promises but he
clamped down on that real quick. He was old enough to know better than to go mixing up sex with
some gentler feelings. That would be just plain foolish—never mind that a part of him was afraid
he‟d already done just that.

“Come on.” Chance left his arm around Rory‟s waist as the younger man draped an arm over
Chance‟s shoulder. The heat coming off of Rory‟s body had to be the rough equivalent of molten
lava. Chance didn‟t know how he kept from going up in flames.

Once inside, he fought back the need to slam Rory against the door and fuck him until they were
both brainless. After the look he‟d seen on Rory‟s face, Chance felt an even stronger need to take it
slow and show the man just how much he was wanted.

He did something he‟d never done before with another man—slid his arm from Rory‟s waist and
twined their fingers together. It was an intimacy that Chance had always avoided, even though it
was such a simplistic and innocent one. He could fuck, he could suck and do any number of sexual
acts in between—but they were all sexual acts, not this melding of palms and fingers that could
bring comfort and peace to both people. It implied something other than sex, which had always
terrified Chance but now, with this one man, seemed so necessary and right.

But that didn‟t mean there was anything more than sex between them.

Chance led Rory to his bedroom, watching as the other man took in the colours of the room, deep
greens and ripe burgundy, before settling on the king size bed covered in a multitude of pillows.
The little smile that quirked up the corner of Rory‟s lips had Chance‟s heart beating a little faster
than it should have been.

“Like your pillows, huh?” Rory faced Chance, and stole his breath with his beauty. Pale blond curls
clung to his forehead and temples, held against sweat-dampened skin. Large, heavy-lidded blue-
black eyes framed with thick lashes watched as Chance visually scraped over Rory‟s features,
caressing the straight narrow nose, following it to the dip above a full, wide mouth set above a firm
and stubborn chin. Chance could not find a single flaw in the man‟s appearance, and the resounding
jolt of insecurity he felt rush through him pissed him off.

He had nothing to be insecure about. While there was no way he could match Rory‟s beauty or
youth, he could damn sure match him, if not teach him a thing or two, about fucking.

“Take your clothes off.” Chance reached for his own shirt, watching as Rory followed suit. Then he
remembered the younger man had his nipples pierced, and suddenly Chance was impatient and
getting naked became a lot more important than things like finesse or proving any point.

He jerked his shirt off half-buttoned and reached for his belt, unbuckling it only before working on
his pants. Boots, damn, he‟d forgotten about his boots. Chance felt his cheeks flare hot but let it go
when he realised Rory was in the same predicament.

They both sat on the bed to pull off their boots and the rest of their clothes, Chance struggling not to
stare at the silver hoops on Rory‟s chest. It was an equally difficult battle not to lean back and look
at the tattoo he‟d only got a hint of weeks ago. Kicking off the last of his clothes, Chance cursed
loudly, startling Rory.

“What? What‟s wrong?” Rory had that wary look in his eyes again, the one that made Chance want
to kick his own ass.

“Stand up and turn around, Rory. Please. I just want to see…” Rory‟s dark eyes suddenly gleamed.
He stood and stepped close enough that Chance felt the heat rolling off his body, could smell the
scent of the white drops beading the spongy head of his cock. Chance started to reach for that
luscious cock only to have Rory spin around and give him his back.

Or, more precisely, his ass. Chance let his hand continue on its path and filled it with taut, sleek
cheek. Firm and perfectly rounded, Rory‟s ass had Chance forgetting why he‟d even asked the man
to turn around. He kneaded the pale skin in his palm, then slid his hand over to the crease, letting
his fingers brush over Rory‟s tight opening.

Rory shivered and twisted his torso to watch Chance, the movement causing a ripple in the tattoo on
his back. Chance shot Rory a grin, meeting his questioning gaze.

“Sorry. Wanted to see your tattoo but I got distracted.” Chance kept his hand on the firm flesh as he
looked at Rory‟s tattoo. Rory faced away, keeping his body straight for the inspection.

“It‟s beautiful,” Chance murmured, bringing his other hand up to trace the shapes of a horse and
rider, who looked to be in the midst of dismounting to attend to a calf. The tattoo took up the
majority of Rory‟s back, and was intricately detailed from the colours of grass to those of the sun
and sky. It looked like a painting, a piece of art rather than a tattoo, and Chance wondered what it
would feel like to walk around wearing such a thing of beauty. He‟d never really been into tattoos
before—or, rather, it hadn‟t mattered to him one way or another. But, like just about everything
else, Rory was quickly making him rethink his ambivalence on the whole subject.

“Jesus, Rory, I‟ve never seen anything like it, or like you—” The words slipped out before he could
catch them. Chance tried to think of a way to cover up the words or to hide them away, but Rory
was already shaking his head and turning around.

“There‟s nothing special about me, Chance. I‟m just a man…with an excellent tattoo.” Rory tried to
make it a joke, but Chance could see the doubt in those wounded eyes. He stood up and forced
himself to keep his gaze locked there in those blue depths rather than letting it wander to the
glinting silver rings he wanted to tug on.

“You‟re wrong, Rory. I don‟t expect you to believe me, not yet, but it‟s true. I haven‟t been with
anyone in a long, long time until you grabbed me at the club. Would have ran out of there if I could
have, but you caught me, and then I didn‟t want to run.”

Chance was afraid of revealing too much, setting himself up for a hurt he might not recover from.
He couldn‟t stand there and let Rory think he was anything less than extraordinary, though. He just
couldn‟t, and damned if he knew why. Rory opened his mouth to say something, maybe argue, but
Chance was done talking. He was only digging himself a deeper hole and it was time to stop.

Chapter Eight

Rory opened his mouth up to point out that Chance was probably just taken by surprise at the club,
or maybe to ask just how long a long, long time was. He didn‟t even get a word out before the man
jumped up off the bed then his mouth was full of Chance—his tongue, lips and teeth, the taste of the
man so seductive and sweet that Rory didn‟t think he would ever get enough.

He nipped at Chance‟s lip, bowing his back when the other man nipped back harder. The pain from
the bite shot straight to Rory‟s cock. He had to thrust, rubbing his achingly hard dick against
Chance‟s straining length. He‟d felt it, stroked it, and dreamt of it, but what he really wanted was to
see it and taste it before he felt it again—deep inside him, rather than in his hand. Rory was sure
he‟d never see a cock like that again, not up close and personal, and he‟d never seen one near to that
size before—though, granted, his sexual experience was rather limited.

“Please. Fuck me, Chance.” Rory murmured the words into Chance‟s mouth, felt a tremor work
through the other man as he swallowed the request. Chance stepped back and turned to the
nightstand, pulling open a drawer and rifling through until he grunted and took out a tube of lube,
which he tossed on the bed, and…a paper? He faced Rory and thrust the paper at him. Rory took it,
watching the other man and trying not to stare down at the erection he wanted so badly.

“It‟s current. I just got it when you got yours, so we can… I mean, if you want… Damn it!” Chance
stared at a spot over Rory‟s left shoulder and looked so uncomfortable that Rory wanted to hug him.
Instead, he read the paper that informed him Chance was healthy and clean. He jerked his eyes up to
the other man‟s, grinning like a fool.

“Oh yeah, I want.” Rory handed the paper back and finally looked at Chance‟s straining erection as
he stood frozen, eyes on Rory. “I want that—” Rory pointed, then unable to resist any longer,
reached out to fist the tempting rod. Chance groaned as Rory slid his hand from the bulbous head all
the way to the root. Rory‟s hands were big, yet he barely managed to close his hand over Chance‟s
girth. Then he got a little worried and glanced up to look at Chance.

“Will…uh, are you sure this will fit?” Rory would rather risk an embarrassing question than an
embarrassing situation. Truthfully, he hadn‟t screwed around enough to know how much was too
much, but he suspected the monster in front of him might just push the limit. Chance sat the paper
back on the nightstand and gave Rory a flat-handed push onto the bed. Rory landed on his behind
but leant back on his elbows, eyes drawn back to the mesmerising, scary erection bobbing in front
of him.

“You‟ll be ready, baby. Get in the middle of the bed.” Chance stroked himself while Rory watched
enviously. He sat up and slapped Chance‟s hand away.

“I‟ve been waiting to get my hands, and other parts, on that for a while now. I have dibs.” Rory
flopped back onto the bed as Chance burst out laughing.

“You have dibs? Dibs?” Chance started laughing harder, but he left his cock alone as he crawled
onto the bed. “All right, it‟s all yours, what with you laying first claim and all.”

The teasing smile on Chance‟s full lips was too much to resist. Rory leaned up and licked until the
other man opened for him, sucking on Rory‟s tongue like he‟d sucked another part of Rory earlier.

He groaned and pulled Chance down on top of him, needing skin-to-skin contact. The man felt too
right laying on top, pressing against Rory‟s body. Chance ran his hands down Rory‟s arms, clasping
his wrists tightly and bringing Rory‟s hands up to the slatted headboard.

“Hold on like your life depended on it, baby.” Rory‟s fingers reflexively clutched at the slats before
he realised it.

“Wait. I want to touch you—” Chance shook his head.

“I‟m too close, want you too much and waited too long. After, okay? Because if you touch me now,
I‟m gonna come and I want in you before that happens.” Chance stared at him, suddenly so serious
that Rory felt a moment of fear. Not for his safety, but at whatever words were fixing to be spoken.
Chance shook his head.

“None of that. There isn‟t anything wrong. Just…I figured maybe you should know I‟ve never had
sex without a condom before.” A flush swept over Chance‟s cheeks. “Probably won‟t last long, not
with how bad I want you and not wearing… Damn it!”

Rory would have replied and told Chance this was a first for him, too, but the man was fast. His lips
latched on to Rory‟s right nipple ring and tugged while he used his hand to do the same to the other
nipple, and Rory went wild.

He hadn‟t had a lover since he‟d got them and hadn‟t had any idea how much better it would feel
for someone other than himself to toy with the hoops. Rory white-knuckled the headboard and tried
not to buck too hard and dislodge Chance. He couldn‟t keep still no matter how hard he tried—his
body was squirming and rubbing, trying to get more of the sensual torment Chance was dishing out.

“Shit! Please, Ch…Chance, please!” Rory didn‟t even know what he was begging for—he didn‟t
want the man to stop what he was doing, but he needed more. Chance‟s words were true for him as
well—he‟d wanted Chance so badly for so long, he couldn‟t take much more. Jesus, the need was
so bad he could feel tears of frustration pricking at his eyes. Rory squeezed them shut. He wasn‟t so
far gone that he didn‟t fear he‟d do something stupid, something that would make Chance think of
him as being too young again.

Chance slid down his body, tonguing his way through the near-white hair that ran down the centre
of Rory‟s belly. Closing his eyes seemed to magnify each touch, each lick against his skin to the
point that Rory was afraid he would come and embarrass himself. He started to let go of the slats

and reach for his balls. Chance‟s growl of displeasure vibrated up Rory‟s body and had him
reaching for the headboard once again.

“Don‟t want to come yet, not yet.” Rory tossed his head, trying to fight the need building inside him
as Chance‟s chuckle sent sparks straight to the kill zone. Oh, God, he was going to make a fool of
himself!

“Don‟t. Don‟t fight it. You don‟t know how fucking sexy you are, burning under my touch. You
don‟t know what it does to me to see you, feel you so responsive. You‟re fucking beautiful, baby,
don‟t ever think different.”

Rory couldn‟t speak to argue, couldn‟t do anything except scream out his release as Chance reached
under him and grabbed his ass cheeks then engulfed his weeping crown, sucking hard. Rory‟s toes
curled as he pumped streams of hot spunk into Chance‟s mouth, the pulsing in his cock with each
spurt so strong that Rory could feel his hole clenching in synch. Chance suckled Rory‟s dick until
every bit of cum was cleaned up then lifted his head and looked at Rory.

“I told you, so fucking beautiful and responsive. My God, Rory, you really don‟t have any idea how
special you are.” The words sounded torn from Chance, released against his will. Rory opened his
eyes and looked down at the man. Chance did not look happy with his admission.

That was okay, because Rory didn‟t believe it anyway. How could he, when so many other people
had proven the man‟s words wrong? The unease in Chance‟s eyes turned to something else as he
snarled at Rory, obviously reading the denial he was about to utter. Rory bit down on his tongue to
keep from refuting Chance‟s claims—the last thing he wanted to do was argue right now.

“I‟ll get it through your stubborn head eventually, Rory. I will.” Those dark chocolate eyes held
Rory pinned in place, promising to follow through on the words.

Well, the man could try, wasn‟t anything Rory could do to stop him—

A hard swat on his hip snapped Rory right to attention. He let go of the headboard and started to
rise up but Chance shoved him and had Rory flipped over onto his stomach before he even knew
how it happened.

Strong hands reached around his hips, pulling Rory up onto his knees. Heart thudding bruisingly
hard in his chest, Rory spread his thighs wide and braced himself on his forearms, resting his head
on his hands. He turned his head to watch what he could as he felt his cheeks being spread wide
open. When the tips of Chance‟s thumbs pressed against Rory‟s hole, pushing until they loosened
the tight ring and penetrated him, Rory let out a strangled groan. He was going to die from the
pleasure any moment now. There was no way something could feel so damn good without stopping
his heart. It just wasn‟t possible.

Chance pulled back and Rory protested in a series of incoherent grumbles. The cool feel of lube
running down his crease stopped the grumbling and replaced it with a smile. One long, rough finger
forced its way into Rory‟s channel, slowly at first, then twisting in faster until hard knuckles rasped
up against his opening.

Rory moaned and arched his back, pushing his butt down needing more. A second finger pressed in,
burning as it stretched the clamping ring that was trying to deny Rory the pleasure Chance was

giving him. Chance twisted his fingers inside Rory, crooking them slightly and pegging his gland
and sparks exploded behind Rory‟s eyes.

“God! Chance! Fuck me, please!” Rory hadn‟t known until that moment that he wasn‟t too proud to
beg. All he knew for sure was if Chance didn‟t fuck him now, he might do something mortifying,
like cry and beg at the same time. He had never felt anything like this before, and knew it wasn‟t
only what they were doing, but who he was doing it with.

“Need to stretch you a little more, baby. I don‟t want to hurt you.” Chance‟s voice sounded strained,
as though he were hurting with need as much as Rory was.

“Just fuck me! I won‟t break! Now, Chance. Don‟t make me…” Rory had to pant as Chance rubbed
his gland again. “Don‟t make me beg anymore.” That came out less demanding and more pathetic
than Rory had meant for it to, but it was done, and Chance‟s fingers were pulling out. The sound of
the lube opening and sputtering as Chance coated his cock sent goose bumps over Rory.

He wanted this, but he wasn‟t going to deny that he was just a little leery of how big Chance‟s cock
was. Fear didn‟t have enough time to latch on because Rory was spread wide once again. The sound
of Chance‟s sharply indrawn breath startled Rory and he tried to crane his neck around to see the
man‟s expression. When he did, it stole his breath. The wonder on Chance‟s face did all sorts of
warm tingly things to Rory‟s belly.

“I told you, baby. Just perfect, so fucking beautiful. Your ass is going to be gorgeous swallowing
me up.” Chance lined up his dick with Rory‟s hole and grasped his hip. “You sure you‟re ready,
baby?”

Rory met Chance‟s gaze and nodded as best he could, fear and want stealing his voice. Chance
rocked gently forward, nudging at Rory‟s resistant entry. He clamped his other hand on Rory‟s hip,
locking him firmly in place.

“I‟ll try to go slow,” Chance muttered, brown eyes conflicted as he studied Rory.

But Rory didn‟t want slow. There was a panic building in him, a fear that Chance might still walk
away. Irrational considering their current positions, but Rory couldn‟t shake it.

“No. I want this.” Rory lifted his head from where it rested on his hands and took a deep breath. “I
don‟t want slow and sweet, Chance. I won‟t break.”

Chance‟s hand clenched on Rory‟s hip. “I don‟t want to hurt you. We should—”

“Fuck „we should‟! I need you now!” He pushed up onto his palms and rocked backwards as
forcefully as he dared just as Chance rammed his hips forward hard, shoving through the stubborn
muscles.

Rory could only gasp, the burning and stretching painful despite the fingers that had worked his
channel only moments before. He bore down as Chance thrust again, then he was completely
impaled, butt and the back of his thighs pressed against Chance‟s crinkly pubic hair and muscular
legs. Rory struggled to breathe, feeling that the air had been pushed from his lungs by Chance‟s
thick length.

Before Rory could adjust to being filled so completely, he began trying to rock himself on Chance‟s
dick. Chance pulled back, sliding almost all the way out of Rory‟s passage.

Rory couldn‟t keep still, pushing back to meet Chance‟s thrusts. He welcomed the penetration,
wanting this, pain and pleasure, all with the man he‟d come to admire.

A strong forearm locked around Rory‟s belly, pulling him upright on his knees. Chance wrapped his
other arm around Rory‟s chest and began pumping his cock into Rory in short, sharp bursts that
rubbed right over his gland.

Every thought fled in the midst of such pleasure. Rory let his head fall back and rest on Chance‟s
shoulder, the harsh grunts coming from the older man feeding Rory‟s need. He pressed his ass back
as much as he could, wanting to feel every bit of Chance‟s cock inside him.

He reached behind him and grabbed Chance‟s ass, squeezing and moaning as the man fucked him
harder and faster. Rory‟s cock was leaking pearly white gobs everywhere—he couldn‟t even think
about it because everything in him was centred on the feel of Chance filling him, owning him and
marking him with each thrust.

The harsh grunts from Chance grew louder, frantic. Rory didn‟t register that the man was saying
„soon‟ over and over until Chance grabbed Rory‟s cock and tugged hard, using his other hand to
pull at the left nipple ring. Rory screamed, his balls drawing tight, then Chance bit into his straining
neck and the scream turned into a strangled sound as Rory‟s vision dimmed and he came, thick
bursts of spunk spewing free.

His muscles spasmed and his ass clamped down hard enough that Chance‟s dick was trapped in the
tight confines of Rory‟s channel. He felt Chance‟s entire body shudder violently, felt hard fingers
dig into his chest painfully—but more than anything, he felt the throbbing of Chance‟s cock deep in
his ass, felt each pulse as hot cum poured out in thick streams inside him. Nothing else existed in
the moment other than that.

Rory‟s muscles unclenched and Chance made a garbled sound that could have meant anything,
though Rory was pretty sure in this case it meant the man had fucked his brains out. God knew
Rory‟s were shot to hell. Chance locked his arms around Rory and pulled him down and onto their
sides, still buried deep in Rory‟s warmth.

They lay for long moments, Chance holding Rory and Rory‟s hands on top of Chance‟s. Rory
thought he should probably say something, but he didn‟t know what. He wasn‟t used to anything
other than a five minute fuck, really, more of a „drop your pants and take it, pull „em up and get
back to work‟ type of thing. He worried for a few minutes, afraid action or inaction would mess up
everything that had just happened between him and Chance.

It wasn‟t until Chance jerked slightly that he realised the man had fallen asleep, still holding Rory in
his arms. Right or wrong, Rory would take it. He closed his eyes and let himself feel wanted—the
part of him aching to be loved was shoved deep down and locked away. Rory knew he was lucky to
get this much from anyone, and especially from a man like Chance Galloway.

Chapter Nine

Maybe it was just the fact that he wasn‟t used to sharing a bed with anyone, much less a man as
sexy as Chance, that had Rory‟s eyes cracking open, his mind sputtering to explain to himself why
he was in an unfamiliar room. The press of a warm body against his sent the answer screeching into
his head, memories of Chance taking him, fucking him until Rory'd thought his heart would stop
from the pleasure of it… Yet as good as that had felt, the present situation, sharing a bed with his
lover, who was draped over him like the best sort of blanket, was even better. It was so…intimate.
And Rory felt safe, protected, which was ridiculous given his size, but there it was.

He knew it was going to suck, having to get up and leave. Chance‟s arms and strength offered a
sanctuary Rory hadn‟t even known he‟d been looking for. But no matter how perfect and safe it felt,
Rory didn‟t go back to sleep.

Rory would have stayed in bed, cuddling—who knew he‟d enjoy that as much as sex?—except he
didn‟t want Chance to think he was taking advantage. If anything, Rory would work harder to
prevent Chance or Max from thinking he‟d expect to get preferential treatment for banging the
boss…or being banged by the boss. The last thing he wanted was trouble between Max and—

“Shit!” Rory sat up with a burst of panicked energy that dislodged Chance and nearly toppled them
both to the floor. Rory looked for his clothes, spotting them in a rumpled pile near the foot of the
bed. He lunged for them as he peeked at the digital clock by Chance‟s bed.

Not quite 4:30 a.m. Good—if he hurried he might make it to the bunkhouse before Max woke up. If
he didn‟t, well, maybe the man wouldn‟t see him coming out of the main house and would think
Rory had just stayed out all night.

“Rory.”

It took a few seconds for it to register. Rory pulled up his jeans and spun around to face Chance just
as the man eased off the bed.

“It‟s all right, just calm down for a minute. Max knows—he told me I‟d be a fool not to go after you
last night.”

Rory froze, one boot on and the other in his hand. He tried to think about what that meant, but it
only added to the confused mix of emotions he was already battling. Now he was awake and the sun
wasn‟t far from rising, doubts and fears were tearing at him. Rory didn‟t know what Chance
expected from him, not personally, and was afraid to ask if the man only wanted a night or, like
Rory, something more.

He forced himself to move, to put on his boot and gather up the rest of his clothes, never looking at
Chance. If he saw that distant look his boss had worn so often over the past two weeks, Rory was
afraid something inside him might break.

“Rory, look at me, please.” Chance‟s voice was warm and intimate, not the least bit distant.

Rory squared his shoulders and, clutching his belt and hat close to his chest, turned to face the man
who suddenly had the power to shatter him. He swallowed nervously under Chance‟s penetrating
stare but didn‟t look away.

“Why are you so scared?”

The question had Rory‟s spine stiffening ramrod straight. He didn‟t like being called out, but he
wasn‟t a liar, either. All or nothing. Better to find out now and deal with it.

“I don‟t know what you want, what you expect from me.” Chance‟s dark eyes bored into him,
shaking his soul. “If this was just a one-night-stand for you or—”

Chance was on him before he could utter another word, taking the belt and hat from his grasp and
tossing them down. Then those big hands were clamping hard on Rory‟s biceps to pull him against
his still-naked boss. The rigid length of Chance‟s erection seared Rory‟s skin through his clothes
and had his own cock snapping to attention.

“I don‟t do one-night-stands, Rory. If that‟s all this was to you…” Chance shook his head, looking
at some point over Rory‟s shoulder. “If that‟s all this was to you, then I guess I‟ll just have to work
to change your mind.”

Knowing he wasn‟t the only one confused and wondering eased away a big part of the worry that
had been riding Rory. He pulled his hands out from between their bodies, praying that it was okay
to embrace Chance and hold him close. He felt the tension drain from his lover, Chance‟s firm, sexy
body relaxing as a soft sigh tickled Rory‟s neck.

“I don‟t want just a night, Chance. I don‟t know why it is you think everyone younger than you is
flighty, but I‟m not. I haven‟t had many lovers—” And that was an understatement, wasn‟t it? Rory
forged on. “And never with someone I didn‟t have…”

The sound of the alarm startled them both into putting a few feet of distance between them. It also
made Rory stop the free-flowing information before he gave too much, even though he feared he
already had done just that.

“I better go.” Rory turned and gathered his things, careful to avoid doing anything that would lead
to questions. Desperation washed over him as he felt Chance studying him. Please, let him leave it
alone for now at least. And please don’t let him notice the way my hands are shaking.

He caught a glimpse of Chance moving over to smack at the alarm clock, shutting off the god-awful
shrilling noise. When the older man didn‟t move again, Rory risked a glance at him. Chance was
watching him, an intense look heating his rich brown eyes, holding Rory captive.

“Go on, Rory. But just a heads up, there‟s no way I‟m going to let you get away without explaining
what you meant.”

Rory started to protest that there wasn‟t time, but Chance waved a hand in the air to shush him.

“Not right now—you‟re right, we have work to do. This evening, if you‟d like to come have dinner
with me, I won‟t pester you with questions. I‟ll answer some for you, though, and maybe that‟ll
help you to feel a bit less skittish about whatever it is you started to say. How does that sound?”

It sounded perfect, and frightening—and Rory wanted it more than he thought was wise. “I‟ll be
here, boss. See you in a bit.”

“Boss?” Chance‟s lips quirked with amusement, setting off a matching action on Rory‟s.

“Well, you are still, and I don‟t think I‟m going to be able to break myself from calling you that.”
Rory waved goodbye and left before the boss could see the smile that bloomed full force.

No doubt Chance would get off on being the boss in the bedroom, at least some of the time. But
Chance had certainly enjoyed it when he hadn‟t been in charge, come to think of it. Huh. That
would give Rory something to obsess about all day. He groaned as visions of a submissive Chance
assailed him. It was going to be a long-ass day.

* * * *

Rory finished brushing out Rama, the sorrel he‟d ridden while moving the rough stock to a different
pasture. He was bone-tired from working hard all day, but nothing could dim the excitement of
knowing he would be spending the evening with Chance. He hadn‟t seen much of the man during
the day, and not seeing him meant Rory couldn‟t be sure if Chance had changed his mind or not.

Maybe he was dumb to worry, but he had his reasons for being insecure when it came to trusting a
lover‟s professed feelings. He patted Rama‟s neck and gave her the once-over, making sure he
hadn‟t missed a spot on her gleaming coat.

“You‟re all set, girl.” After checking her water and filling her feed bucket, Rory headed to the
bunkhouse, unable to suppress the nervous sensation in his belly. He and Max had missed each
other this morning, and throughout the day they had crossed each other‟s paths and even moved the
cattle together—but now he‟d have to face the other ranch hand outside of work, so to speak.

Knowing that the wiry little man was aware of the budding relationship between Rory and Chance,
had even told the boss to go find Rory…that still didn‟t quell the nerves riding up Rory‟s spine.
What the man said to the boss and what he actually felt might not be the same thing—God knew
with the way the economy was right now many people would say or do whatever they had to for a
job.

Rory‟s phone vibrated in his shirt pocket as he walked out of the barn. Taking it out and noting the
unknown number on the display screen, he thought about letting it go to voice mail. Nothing good
ever came from such a call. Better to get it over with.

“Hello.” As soon as he answered, Rory wished he hadn‟t. The voice on the other end had him
pressing a hand to his stomach to push back the wave of nausea that hit him.

“Hey, cock sucker. Heard you managed to find a job with a fag in Texas. Should suit you just fine.”
Art Johnson‟s mocking laughter slapped against Rory‟s ear with the force of a sledgehammer. That
motherfucker…

“You have no room to talk, Art, considering you liked fucking me every chance you got.” In more
ways than one.

“I told you, boy—” Art had gone from laughing to cruel, something he excelled at. “I only fucked
you „cause you were there and wanting it so bad. Now, if your sister had been a bit more
accommodating—”

Rory‟s temper exploded. “Stay away from my sister, you twisted son of a bitch, or I‟ll—”

Laughter cut him off before he could finish. “Or you‟ll what? You step one foot on this ranch and
it‟s mine, remember? Then where will your pretty little sister go? I might let her stay on the ranch if
she suckss dick as well as you do.”

Anger unlike anything he‟d ever felt seeped through Rory‟s veins. He hadn‟t considered that Art
would go after Annabelle, but he should have. The man was the sickest fuck Rory had ever known.

“I swear to you, you touch Annabelle and I will kill you. Then it won‟t matter if I step on the
property or not, and it would be worth a prison sentence to rid the world of your useless ass.”

Rory issued the vow with a calmness that surprised him; he‟d never considered himself a violent
man, but he would not let Art hurt Annabelle—physically or any other way. When there was no
immediate reply, he figured Art had hung up. Rory started to do the same, jerking the phone back to
his ear when he heard the man say something that had Rory seeing red before he hung up instead.

Hands shaking, Rory dialed his sister‟s number and cursed when he got her voice mail. He left her a
terse message to call him immediately then disconnected the call.

Fury and fear roared through Rory and he looked around for some outlet. Rory slammed his fist into
the barn wall, the shock of pain doing nothing to dull his anger.

Gripping his injured hand, he managed to reach the back of the barn before he fell to his knees and
threw up, Art‟s parting words ringing in his ears. Tell Chance your ass is the only one I’ve fucked
that could measure up to his—

Chapter Ten

The smell from the grill had Chance‟s stomach rumbling. Another ten minutes and it would be
ready. He checked his watch and tried to rein in his frustration. Where was Rory? It‟d been a good
hour since they had finished for the day—he‟d thought Rory would have been here by now. He
would give the man until the steaks were done. If he didn‟t show by then, Chance would hunt him
down.

Since he had decided to let go of his hang-ups regarding younger, very attractive men—okay, one
particular younger, very attractive man—Chance would be damned if he let Rory go. The
realisation of that thought scared the shit out of him. Where had that possessive feeling come from?

They‟d only spent one night together, and already Rory was burrowed somewhere deep inside
Chance and he didn‟t know how to handle it or what to make of it.

A sharp rap of knuckles on the front door sent Chance‟s heart skittering with an eagerness he
couldn‟t quite hide. He was at the door and pulling it open before Rory‟s hand lowered back to his
side. Chance was taken aback once again by the man‟s beauty, fingers itching to trace the firm jaw
and slip into the mass of pale gold hair.

“Come in, dinner‟s just about ready.” Chance smiled, feeling timid and nervous and not liking it
one damn bit.

Rory stepped inside, shoulders tensed enough that it was noticeable, as was the forced nature of his
answering smile. Chance narrowed his eyes and studied the younger man, taking in his subdued
look and dull eyes. Then he noticed his hand.

“What the hell happened?” Chance reached for Rory‟s hand before it could be tucked away and
hidden. Scraped raw at the knuckles and swollen. Chance knew from personal experience how an
injury like that occurred. He glanced up at Rory, who didn‟t seem to want to meet his eyes.
“There‟s a punching bag that you can use if you need to. You want to tell me what you hit and
why?”

Rory‟s Adam‟s apple bobbed a couple of times, almost distracting Chance with the need to press his
lips to it. Rory finally looked at him and swallowed nervously again.

“Could we maybe…eat first?”

And there, in his lover‟s voice and midnight eyes, was pain and something close to fear that hit
Chance like a physical blow. Something was hurting Rory, and it tore Chance up inside in a way
he‟d never felt for someone else.

It clicked like a light switched on in a pitch black room—he felt things for this man that he had
given up all hope of experiencing. Instead of making him want to head for the hills, Chance wanted
to pull Rory close and promise to heal his wounds. He was fairly certain his lover wasn‟t ready for
that just yet.

Chance looked at Rory‟s hand again and nodded. “Yeah. Come on and have a seat while I pick up
the steaks.”

“Okay.” Heavy footsteps sounded behind him as Chance led the way to the small kitchen table.

“Just relax, it‟ll only be a few minutes.” Chance opened the fridge and took out the salads he‟d
made before stepping outside and placing the thick steaks and foil-wrapped potatoes on a platter.
He‟d set the table earlier, wanting to have everything in place for dinner.

Okay, he had been nervous—he hadn‟t forgotten his promise from this morning to tell Rory why he
had been such an ass. Not that he was in a hurry to do so, but damn, he hadn‟t been able to stand the
wariness that had cloaked Rory so suddenly. He was well aware of the fact he had helped put that
look there and the knowledge weighed heavily on his conscience.

Chance sat the platter on the table and walked back over to the fridge. “You want beer, soda,
water…uh, I don‟t think the milk is safe to drink. Kinda looks like cottage cheese.” He held the jug
up and checked the expiration date. Well, fuck, no wonder it was all chunky—he was lucky the
stuff hadn‟t sprouted legs and walked off. Or maybe not. At least then he wouldn‟t have to pull off
the lid and get hit with a fetid scent whenever he got brave enough to dump it out. Chance shoved
the milk back in and turned to Rory, who still hadn‟t answered.

A real smile split Rory‟s face and set his eyes to gleaming. Warmth built in Chance‟s chest as a
tingling sensation spread in his belly. Jesus, he had it bad.

“You sure the beer is safe? Judging from the look of that gallon of milk, I‟m a bit worried.”

Laughing, Chance pulled out a couple of beers and popped the caps off. “The beer is fresh. Guess
that‟s telling, that the milk is kind of rotten but all the beer is just fine.”

“„Kind of rotten‟?” Rory reached up and took his beer. “That‟s like saying August in Texas is kind
of hot.” Rory‟s blue eyes deepened, turning almost black in a way that should have prepared
Chance for his next words. “Or that what we did last night was kind of hot. I‟m pretty sure it was
fucking scorching—or scorching fucking.”

And that quick Chance‟s prick swelled full, pressing uncomfortably against his zipper as sweat
broke out on his forehead. Christ, what the man could do to him. Rory‟s eyes were burning a trail
over Chance‟s body before settling on the rigid length threatening to leave a wet spot on his jeans.

“Rory.” Chance took a step forward, unable to resist the strident need in Rory‟s eyes. He stopped
when the younger man shook his head slightly and glanced away, that wary expression slipping
back into place. What the hell was going on?

Chance pulled out a chair and sat across from Rory, measuring the man‟s body language.
Something had his lover wound tight. He would give Rory a little time, but if he didn‟t loosen up
and relax, Chance would start digging until he found out what was going on.

Placing a steak and baked potato on Rory‟s plate, Chance thought about his options. If the man
wouldn‟t talk, there were two ways Chance could see to get answers. Talking or seduction. The
former might result in angry words and a night alone. The latter, however, didn‟t guarantee
anything except the very real possibility of distraction on both their parts. Plus, it seemed wrong to
use sex in such a way. Damn it. At least he could enjoy the meal first—he would eat even though
his appetite had fled with Rory‟s shift in mood.

Conversation was stilted and Chance couldn‟t help but notice that Rory shuffled his food around his
plate rather than eating much of anything. Maybe he wasn‟t an expert on the whole relationship
business, but Chance did know enough to realise nothing was going to get better unless whatever it
was eating at his lover came to light.

Pushing his plate away, Chance leant back in his chair and waited for Rory to meet his eyes. The
anguish he saw in those blue depths would have buckled his knees had he been standing.

“Why don‟t you just spit it out, Rory, before you up and bolt? The longer you wait, the harder it‟s
going to be.” He waited while Rory made up his mind, praying the man would open up and talk.

When Rory‟s shoulders slumped slightly, Chance had his answer. He got up then walked to Rory
and hooked his arm through his lover‟s.

“Come on, let‟s go into the living room. Dishes will wait.” Rory let himself be led along to the
couch, where Chance gave him a slight push encouraging him to sit. Rather than sit beside Rory,
Chance sat directly in front of him on the coffee table, knee to knee. Whatever was coming, he
figured it would be best to face it head on, literally and every other way.

Moisture gleamed in Rory‟s eyes, squeezing Chance‟s heart with a compassion he hadn‟t known
was in him. Gently he took his lover‟s hands, resting them on their knees.

“It‟s all right, baby. If it‟s not, we‟ll make it all right. Go ahead and talk. Whatever you‟re worried
about, it won‟t run me off.”

* * * *

Rory turned away from the sincerity and warmth in Chance‟s soothing gaze, afraid if he didn‟t the
tears he was struggling to hold back would burst free. What he had to say was humiliating enough.
Crying would be the straw that broke the camel‟s back—Rory would feel like the worst sort of fool.

Swallowing around the knot of fear that threatened to choke him, Rory turned back to face Chance.
There was no disgust or anger on the man‟s face, just compassion and concern that was perhaps an
even bigger threat to Rory‟s emotional stability. Rory turned away again; he couldn‟t do this
watching for signs of Chance‟s expression changing to something that would break Rory‟s heart.

“When I…” No, that wasn‟t the way to start, damn it. Rory tried to organise what he wanted to say,
something he‟d failed to do every time he had tried since Art called. It wasn‟t happening. “Fuck it.”
Rory turned back to Chance, steeling himself and determined to get the whole sordid story out as a
sudden burst of strength settled over him.

“You probably already figured out what happened with my dad, yeah?”

Chance didn‟t answer immediately, studying Rory for a long moment instead. “I‟m guessing, from
what you told me and the voicemails Ian left me that your old man disowned you when he found
out you were gay.”

Rory nodded at the questioning tone in Chance‟s voice, felt a rush of warmth at the sympathy
gleaming in those rich brown eyes.

“Yeah. Sorry he did that. He‟s just really bitter and…nothing is going to change his mind about
what I am. I knew that, grew up listening to him rant about gays. I tried to keep it from him.” Rory
just shook his head. He‟d been naïve to think his father would never find out, and just plain stupid
to hope the man would change his views if he did learn that his own son was gay. “I should have
known better.”

“Rory, it doesn‟t make you a fool to want your family to accept you, to hope that they love you
unconditionally. Mine didn‟t, either, but they just cut me out and never had anything to do with me
again.” Chance glanced down and cleared his throat before continuing. “I always hoped that me and
my folks would reconcile, but they were killed in a house fire three years after I told them.”

Chance‟s eyes filled, but unlike Rory, he didn‟t seem inclined to stop the tears from escaping. “In
truth, they probably wouldn‟t have ever changed their minds, opened their hearts, but as long as
they were alive, I had hope.” Chance tugged on Rory‟s hands, bringing them to rest on the older
man‟s thighs. “I wouldn‟t wish it for you, Rory, but maybe it‟s best to know that your father will
probably never change and try to deal with it as well as you can.”

Rory tried, he really did, but he couldn‟t just sit there and watch while his lover‟s cheeks were
tracked with silent tears. It only took a good tug to pull Chance onto the couch, where Rory
stretched out and held the man to his side. Even if this talk ended with Chance telling him they were
done, Rory would at least have this, the memory of holding his lover…as the man grumbled
something about not being a pussy. Biting back a smile, Rory held Chance close.

“Never said you were a pussy, boss. Or I guess if you are, so am I because this is hard for me, too.”
But maybe, even after I tell you what needs to be said, you’ll still want me. “I‟m sorry about your
parents.”

Rory didn‟t know what else to say, words seemed inadequate in the face of his Chance‟s loss. He
felt Chance nod, felt his lover‟s hand clasp tightly before locking their fingers together and resting
them on Rory‟s stomach. He stroked Chance‟s back softly with his injured hand, as if seeking to
relieve the pain from the man.

When Rory felt they were both ready, or as ready as he could be, anyway, he closed his eyes and
continued, letting the memories play out in vivid detail behind his heavy lids.

“So, I knew that I was gay. Pretty much just kept to myself, though. There weren‟t a lot
of…opportunities, I guess you‟d say, and I wasn‟t interested in fucking for fucking‟s sake.” Chance
tensed against him, and he wondered what he had said that had already put the man off.

Nothing jumped out at him, but if his lover was going to react like that already, it damn sure didn‟t
bode well for the rest of the conversation.

“About a year ago, I, uh, my dad hired a foreman—I tried to convince him I was ready for the job.
Hell, I‟d been working the ranch since I was fifteen—eight years of doing everything that needed to
be done. It didn‟t matter—he didn‟t believe I was mature enough to handle it.”

Chance muttered something Rory couldn‟t understand against his neck. He waited, hoping for some
clarification, but it didn‟t come. “He hired a guy older than me, not as much experience, but older.
Seemed to be all that mattered to my dad. Man had a couple of years‟ experience as a ranch hand
and”—Rory drew a steadying breath—“several years on the rodeo circuit.”

As he feared, those words had Chance stiffening so much Rory was surprised the man‟s spine didn‟t
snap. “I was prepared to hate the man on sight, but he…somehow he knew. About me. Any time he
caught me alone, he‟d flirt and flatter me.” Rory couldn‟t hold back the bitter laughter as he opened
his eyes to block out the images that had sprung up as he spoke.

He felt Chance watching him, made himself look and accept the anger burning in his lover‟s eyes.
“He worked me like a skittish colt, until the day he bent me over a saddle and made me wonder that
I‟d ever thought sex could be enjoyable.”

The memory of that violent penetration, of hard flesh tearing through dry, unprepared tissue still
sent a shiver down Rory‟s spine. He knew now of course that sex didn‟t have to be something that
left you hurt and bleeding, wishing you‟d just die. Rory shook his head when Chance started to
speak.

“No. I was blind and a fool. I let him use me because I wanted to believe the words he told me.
After he finished, he slapped me on the ass, pulled off the condom and told me it could have been
better and that next time he was going to teach me how to suck his dick.”

Heat flamed over Rory‟s chest, crawling up his neck until it covered his face and the tips of his ears.
He‟d been such a dumbass, and got what he had asked for, even if he hadn‟t asked out loud.

Rory nearly jumped out of his skin when Chance let out a string of foul words before sitting up and
giving Rory his back. Instead of the pain he had feared at Chance‟s rejection, numbness washed
over Rory.

“Tell me who the fucker is, Rory.”

Rory really didn‟t want to do that, but when Chance moved to sit half on the couch facing Rory, he
couldn‟t deny the demand. Stomach clenching and burning, he tried to get his voice to work around
the knot that had lodged in his throat. Some of the anger left Chance‟s dark gaze, softening his
whole face as he looked at Rory.

“Please, baby.” A rough hand cupped his cheek, comforting rather than condemning. “Tell me who
it was so I can beat the shit out of him for hurting you like that. You‟re wrong—you didn‟t do
anything to deserve what he did. Nothing. Being naïve doesn‟t mean you deserve to be… Christ,
Rory. What he did was violent and wrong, and tantamount to rape.”

“No.” Rory meant it to come out firm and sure instead of the wavering raspy sound it was. “He
didn‟t, I knew what—”

“Bullshit, Rory. Did you know he was going to hurt you, rip into you without a fucking care for
what you felt? Hell, that son of a bitch had to know—”

“He called me, right after I finished brushing Rama out.” The words burst from him without
warning, surprising himself as much as Chance. “He said…” Oh God, I’m going to be sick. “He
said he‟d let Annabelle stay on if she could s-suck—” Rory stuttered, unable to get the last word
out.

Then Chance was there, closer, his dark eyes filled with a mix of sympathy and anger. He cradled
Rory‟s cheek and softly kissed his lips. The gentle touch penetrated the fear clogging Rory‟s throat.
“I can‟t let him hurt her, Chance, not like he hurt me.”

Chance nodded and brushed another kiss over Rory‟s lips. “She can come stay with us—”

“She won‟t.” Rory knew that without having to give it any thought at all. “Annabelle is the most
stubborn person I‟ve ever met. She wants the ranch, even though our dad will never let her have it.
He just uses it to manipulate her, keep her dangling and under his thumb.”

Chance leant back and seemed to give the situation some consideration for several moments before
looking at Rory. “Does she know what happened to you?”

“No.” Rory flexed his injured hand, watched fresh blood ooze up from the torn skin. “I was too
ashamed to tell anybody, and I didn‟t think he‟d be—I thought he was gay, you know?” And that
Annabelle wouldn‟t be in any danger from the man. Rory had been a mess over what had happened,
still was apparently, but that was no excuse for not thinking about the depths of Art‟s depravity.
Rory had endangered her with his silence.

“What‟s his name?”

Rory raised his eyes to Chance‟s even though he‟d rather keep looking away. His stomach roiled
and clenched as Art‟s last words replayed in his head. He didn‟t want to believe there was any truth
to it, but Art had sounded so smug it was impossible to believe he was lying. Rory took a deep
shaky breath and muttered, “Art…”

Chance went from red with anger to white with shock then back through mad to out and out furious.
Rory tried to get up. He needed to leave while he could still make himself walk away but Chance
planted a hand on Rory‟s chest and shoved him back down.

“No way, Rory, you‟re not walking out on me now. I don‟t know why you‟d think I‟d let you. Why
you would think I‟d be angry at anyone other than that asshole.”

Chapter Eleven

Rory watched as Chance struggled to get himself under control. He couldn‟t process the fact that
Chance didn‟t want him gone—the man didn‟t seem to blame Rory at all. He just couldn‟t
understand it.

“I—I…” He what? Did he really want to point out he was every bit the young fool Chance had once
thought him to be? Rory bit his lip, drawing blood as his teeth dug into tender skin.

“Stop, baby. Don‟t.” Chance tugged at Rory‟s chin until Rory let his lip slide from between his
teeth. Chance swiped at the abused flesh with his thumb, brushing off the blood welling from the
wound.

“Does he know who you‟re working for?” At Rory‟s nod, something shifted in Chance‟s eyes,
replacing the anger with worry. “And did he tell you, then, that he fucked me?” Chance didn‟t
blink, just focussed on Rory, watching intently. “Yeah, I can see that he did. It was a long time ago,
baby. He‟s what put me off pretty young things, and the reason I had to drop out of the circuit.”

“I‟m not like that, Chance, I‟m not some horny slut—” Rory needed him to know, to believe that if
nothing else. Chance sighed and looked so weary that it broke Rory‟s heart.

“But I was, when I was your age and for a few years more. When my parents died, I just lost myself
the only way I knew how, fucking around with whoever was there. It was the only way I could
escape the pain for a while.” Chance stood and walked to the window, staring out at the starless
black night.

“Did that for a few years, then I finally gave in to having a drink with Art and we…he must have
slipped something in my beer, because I woke up confused all to hell, sore and hurting in ways I
couldn‟t understand.” Chance walked back over to Rory.

“Sound familiar at all, baby? You wake up alone and scared, pain screaming through your body,
couple of pictures somewhere close by letting you know that something out of a nightmare had
happened and it wasn‟t over yet?”

Rory struggled to get air in his lungs as he saw his own pain reflected in Chance‟s eyes. He knew
the anger was building inside him at the knowledge Art had done to Chance the same thing he‟d
done to Rory, but shock was keeping everything at bay, or so Rory thought.

It wasn‟t until Chance reached out and brushed away the moisture on his face that Rory realised
he‟d been crying. He wanted to crawl into a hole and hide, but Chance held firm and wouldn‟t let
Rory turn away.

“I will kill the son of a bitch.” Low and mean, the words vibrated with promise and knocked Rory
out of his stupor.

“No.” Rory grabbed Chance‟s shoulders, ignoring the burst of agony that shot up his arm from his
injured hand. “No, you won‟t. I‟ll beg if I have to, because I couldn‟t stand to see you spend the rest
of your life in some prison. I couldn‟t.” No, he loved the man too much for that, and even though he
couldn‟t tell him, admitting it even to himself brought Rory a measure of peace he hadn‟t ever
expected to feel again.

* * * *

Chance fought back the waves of anger crashing in his head as he looked at Rory. What he saw he
dared not believe—he‟d done nothing to warrant the love shining in Rory‟s brilliant blue eyes. All
he had done was hurt the man numerous times before finally giving in to the scorching attraction
between them—and if he had done something years ago, Art wouldn‟t have been able to brutalise
Rory.

Instead, Chance had packed up his things, ignoring the taunts and threats hurled his way and left the
rodeo circuit, figuring he deserved every bit of what had happened to him for being such a slut.
Much like Rory believed he deserved what Art had done to him. They were both wrong to have
ever believed they had deserved such abuse.

It had taken Chance years to realise that, despite consenting to go out with Art, he‟d been a victim.
Looking at Rory, angelic face wet with tears, bottom lip smeared with blood, and his hand beat to
hell tore something up inside of Chance. He would do whatever he could to make sure the man
came to the realisation he was an innocent victim of a twisted piece of shit a whole lot sooner than
Chance had.

The need to hold and comfort, to find a way to heal Rory was so overpowering that Chance shook
with it. He wasn‟t sure how to do what he wanted to do, but Chance knew where he would start.

Gathering Rory‟s battered hand in both of his own, Chance leant down and placed feathery kisses to
every bit of bruised and torn skin, careful not to squeeze or put anything but the lightest of pressure
on Rory‟s hand. Chance was keenly aware of the hitch in his lover‟s breath, felt the shudders that
rippled through the man one after another without cessation.

The damage to Rory‟s hand probably looked worse than it actually was, but Chance would make
sure a doctor looked at it tomorrow despite all the arguments he knew Rory would give him. But
until then… Chance ran the tip of his tongue over the worst looking of Rory‟s knuckles.

“Ch-Chance.” Rory‟s voice was breathy and low, slicking over Chance‟s dick like a velvet caress.

The man had no idea how much power he wielded over Chance. The idea of him ever finding out
should have been terrifying, but for whatever reason, Chance didn‟t care if Rory discovered how he
felt. He trusted his lover as he had not trusted anyone.

Chance slid his tongue between two of Rory‟s fingers, licked up to the tips, then sucked both digits
into his mouth with a strong pull. The resultant gasp that slipped from Rory‟s lips was filled with so
much heat and need that Chance‟s balls tightened and pressed close to his body. He looked up into
his lover‟s heavy-lidded gaze and felt a burst of satisfaction that he had put that look of wanton
need in those midnight eyes.

“What do you want, baby? What do you need?” Whatever the answer, Chance would give it to Rory
without hesitation. He waited while Rory digested the question and was unsurprised when the man
didn‟t answer immediately. Chance had learned that Rory was a thoughtful and intelligent man. He
would want to carefully consider the question and answer thoroughly.

* * * *

Rory closed his eyes while he thought about what he wanted, needed, unsure if there was a
difference at this point. Comfort, love, commitment—Chance. That was what it came down to—he
wanted and needed Chance. He didn‟t think Chance would want to hear that, though, which left
Rory with one option his fevered brain and throbbing cock both heartily approved of. Decision
made, Rory sat up and wrapped an arm around Chance‟s neck.

“This, Chance. I want and need this.” Rory slanted his mouth across Chance‟s parted lips, sealing
their mouths together in a brutal kiss. He had wanted to be gentle, loving, but the urge to own and
claim was overpowering.

He needed Chance to give himself over, submissive, willing and open to whatever Rory demanded
of him. He tried to hold back some of the aggression pounding in his veins, to nip when he wanted
to bite and to hold when he wanted to squeeze until his fingers were burrowed so deeply Chance
could never escape. Rory didn‟t understand it and couldn‟t fight it—the most he could do was
temper it with what little restraint he‟d managed to hang onto.

He nipped harder on Chance‟s bottom lip, tasted blood on his tongue and struggled to rein in this
violent force that wanted complete control—until Chance bit back, hard.

Rory‟s control snapped, something deep inside of him broke free and he was jerking Chance up off
the couch, ignoring the pain as his hands as he fisted his hands high up in the dark blue denim shirt.
Chance grabbed onto Rory‟s forearms and stumbled at the sudden move. Rory gave a sharp tug and
sent the buttons from Chance‟s shirt flying across the living room. The naked expanse of tanned
flesh was topped with small brown nipples that were erect, telling Rory that Chance was every bit
as turned on and needy as he was.

Rory bent and scraped his teeth across one pointy tip, pinching the other nipple as Chance threaded
his fingers through Rory‟s hair. It wasn‟t enough—Rory needed more. He reached around and
grabbed a handful of Chance‟s ass, tugging the man closer, wanting to crawl into his lover‟s skin.
The hands holding his head gripped tighter, pulling his hair almost painfully as Rory clamped his
teeth down on the turgid nipple he‟d suckled.

“Fuck! Rory!” Chance‟s whole body bowed as he smashed Rory‟s face against his chest.

Rory bit again, pinching and twisting the nipple he held between his thumb and forefinger at the
same time. Chance roared and shook beneath Rory‟s mouth and hands. Rory stood and locked his
arms around his lover as he took Chance‟s mouth in another demanding kiss. He wanted nothing
more than to shove down Chance‟s jeans and bend the man over, to bury his cock so deep inside
Chance that he would still feel Rory tomorrow—but visions of Art fucking him roughly and without
preparation, the remembered pain of that violent penetration, held Rory in check.

“Need you now.” Rory started to push Chance backwards then paused, suddenly afraid of the
violent strength of his need. He took half a step back and looked at Chance, worried he had been too
forceful but only saw the same achingly raw desire that was consuming his own soul.

A curt nod from Chance had Rory reaching to pull the battered denim shirt from his lover‟s torso.
Keeping his eyes locked on Chance‟s, Rory tossed it aside and then reached for Chance‟s belt. He
unbuckled it and grabbed the ends, using it to tug Chance down the hallway to the bedroom.

As soon as they cleared the door, Rory snapped it closed and spun Chance away from him. Using
his body, Rory leant against Chance, pushing him so that chest was flush to the door. He grabbed
his lover‟s thick wrists and pulled his arms above his head, palms flat on the smooth wooden
surface.

“Stay just like that, don‟t move,” Rory ordered softly.

He stepped back and took in the sight Chance made, tanned skin against the dark wood, his head
turned to the side with eyes shut and lips slightly parted as stuttering breaths slipped out. Long
muscular arms spread up and out, leading down to broad shoulders that could carry more than their
share of burdens. The way Chance‟s broad, sculpted back tapered down into lean hips and that taut,

perfect ass had Rory‟s mouthwatering. Pre cum soaked through the denim of his jeans and had Rory
scurrying to grab the lube.

He was back behind Chance in two long strides, slipping his hands between Chance‟s waist and the
door to unfasten his pants. Rory couldn‟t wait long enough to pull them and his lover‟s boots off
any more than he could take the time to remove his own clothes. He knew he would be doing well
to make sure Chance was stretched enough before Rory took him.

With Chance‟s jeans shoved down and out of the way, Rory popped the cap on the lube and slicked
up his shaking fingers. He put the lube in his shirt pocket then grasped an ass cheek in each hand
and spread Chance wide open, sucking in a breath at the sight of that tight little knot of muscles
hidden between the firm globes.

“Rory.” Chance‟s voice was rough and urgent as he pressed his ass back into Rory‟s hands. “Please,
I need you filling me up…ahh, God!”

Rory twisted the finger he had inserted inside Chance‟s resistant hole, pushing until he couldn‟t go
any further. The heat from Chance‟s rippling channel sent a shudder through Rory—he had to get
his cock buried inside that satiny vise as soon as possible. Still, he made himself slow down,
fucking Chance with just one finger until he heard a whispered plea for more. Only then did Rory
push against Chance‟s snug hole with another finger, applying firm pressure until the clenching ring
relaxed enough to allow entry.

Rory‟s cock leaked and throbbed painfully, the need for release making him relinquish his grasp on
Chance‟s ass to unfasten his own jeans. His other hand kept a steady rhythm, thrusting and twisting
his fingers, curving them to brush over Chance‟s prostate. The moans falling from Chance‟s lips
each time Rory rubbed that gland were addictive; Rory knew he would never get enough of them
any more than he would ever get enough of the sight before him. Chance spread open, taking
Rory‟s big callused fingers and loving it, his whole body begging for more…

Rory slid in a third finger rougher than he would have wished, unable to be gentle. He felt like his
entire body was on fire—sweat slicked his skin, his muscles were quivering and his balls ached
with the need to come. Chance still felt so tight, his inner muscles clamping down so hard on
Rory‟s fingers that sometimes he was forced to hold them still.

“Damn, Chance, I need in. Too tight, maybe—” Rory gritted his teeth. “God, fuck!”

Chance arched his back and pushed, rotating his hips in a circular move that Rory knew, if done
while his cock was buried deep inside, would bring him to his knees. “Do it, baby. Fucking need it.”

Rory reached for the lube and tried to open it with his injured hand, not daring to pull his fingers
from Chance‟s warmth for fear the little opening would snap back tight and become damn near
impenetrable. He finally pulled the cap off with his teeth, then poured a glob right onto his cock
before snapping the cap shut.

He tossed the lube carelessly behind him, too focussed on what was happening between him and
Chance to worry about where the tube landed. Rory quickly slicked on the viscous stuff and pulled
his fingers out of Chance. He lined his cock up to the wrinkled ring of muscles and pushed,
unsurprised at the resistance encountered.

“Just do it, Rory,” Chance ordered, eyes closed, arching his back to push his hole against Rory‟s
cock.

Feeling almost brutish, Rory locked his arms around Chance‟s waist and thrust hard. He heard dual
strangled gasps as his cock breached Chance‟s body, then his cock head was in. A surge of his hips
had his dick forging through the searing tunnel, each rippling move of that gripping flesh branding
him, sucking him in deeper and deeper until his hips rested against sweat-slicked skin.

Rory held himself motionless until Chance‟s breath turned from harsh pants to softer ones. He
slowly began pulling back, watching as his cock slid almost entirely out, feeling each pulsation of
protest against his sensitive skin.

It felt so good, so much more than anything Rory had ever expected, as though all the nerve endings
in his body were centred on his cock. The sensations as he drove his hips forward again rushed
through him in a ferocious wave of passion so intense it stole his breath and had spots dancing
before his eyes. He buried himself fully and started to pull back again when a needy whimper
slipped from Chance.

“Oh, shit, I can‟t… I have to move.”

“Yessss…” Chance rotated his hips as he had when Rory‟s fingers were stretching him.

Rory yelled, the sound pulled from his chest and belly at the exquisite swell of pleasure that surged
from his cock to his balls then spread through his body like a wildfire. Christ, he knew now that
fucking Chance was going to kill him—nothing that felt like this could be survived.

Rory flexed his ass and thrust his cock in fast and hard, pumping into Chance in an increasingly
bruising manner—it was a certainty that his hips and Chance‟s ass would be sporting some
colourful proof of their mating tomorrow if not sooner.

“Rory, baby.” Chance‟s voice was thready with need. “Touch me, please. I ache.”

Rory gripped Chance‟s cock, feeling the copious amount of pre cum on the mushroomed head. He
began fucking into Chance erratically, driven by his body‟s needs as he worked the fat dick in his
hand.

“Oh, fuck, fuck, Chance! Never…” Rory‟s brain shot white-hot as Chance‟s inner muscles clamped
down hard, trapping Rory‟s cock, keeping it buried to the hilt in that searing, clenching tunnel.
“Never…not like this—“

Liquid heat spilled onto Rory‟s hand as Chance‟s dick jerked, filling the air with the scent of cum.
Waves of spasms shook the man‟s body as he groaned low and long, cock still pulsing, emptying
with spurts of cream.

Rory ground against Chance‟s ass then rammed his hips forward trying to get deeper, farther as
tingling pleasure spread from his tight balls to his cock and back up to the base of his spine. He
couldn‟t yell, couldn‟t breathe. His climax surged and his cock spilled jet after jet of spunk into
Chance‟s ass as those silky smooth muscles clenched again and again.

Rory did the only thing he could do and held on tight to Chance as his cock pulsed and emptied into
his lover‟s body. Behind his lids little black dots grew bigger, threatening to do the very thing he
feared and take him to his knees. Rory released Chance‟s dick and grabbed onto his other arm,
clutching his forearms and leaning heavily against Chance. He had to lock his knees to keep them
from hitting the floor.

Eventually he became aware of the fact that he was squashing Chance against the door. Chance‟s
shallow breaths told him the man was being squeezed and squished uncomfortably even though he
never said a word. Then again, Rory panicked, maybe he couldn‟t.

Rory loosened his hold and stepped back from Chance so fast they both stumbled backwards, arms
flailing for balance, tangling themselves in shoved-down jeans and elbows and boots. Rory
managed, barely, to grab Chance and toss him onto the bed then Rory was landing beside him,
feeling ten kinds of a fool for forgetting about the fact neither of them had shucked all their clothes.

Rory groaned and flopped onto his back, arm slung over his eyes, certain Chance would think him a
horny kid who couldn‟t hold it together long enough to get their clothes off. Christ, he‟d gone after
the man like a starving person would tuck into a steak.

No control, no finesse, just hormones and need. Fuck. He felt the bed shift right before he heard the
thud of one boot then the other hitting the floor. Rory started when he felt hands on his chest
unbuttoning his shirt. He lifted his arm just enough to peek out from under it.

Chance smiled in a lazy, sated way that had Rory‟s heart pinching. As he watched his lover, he saw
there was no anger or disgust on Chance‟s face. No, the man looked pleased and a little smug
judging by the wink he gave Rory.

“Think you can get up and get naked, baby? I could use a shower and a certain someone to rub my
back.”

Chance‟s eyes were glinting with a teasing light that broke through the knot of fear and insecurity
Rory had felt engulfing him. This man, Rory knew, had an almost frightening impact on his
emotions—but he wouldn‟t back away for the world. Sitting up, he smiled at Chance, reaching out
to stroke a finger over the older man‟s tanned, stubbled cheek.

“Whatever you say, boss. Whatever you say.”

Chapter Twelve

Chance started the shower, giving Rory the time to get his clothes off. He was still feeling a bit
boneless after the way Rory had fucked him—Christ, he couldn‟t remember ever having such an
erotic experience before. Rory had taken charge and Chance had let him, willing and eager to take a
submissive role to Rory‟s demanding alpha outburst. Chance understood it—the younger man had
needed to be in control after talking about what had happened to him, and Chance had certainly
enjoyed the hell out of it. He‟d held himself so tightly in check for so many years that letting go of

all control had been a near-orgasmic experience in itself—and holy shit, Rory could fuck like a man
possessed. Just thinking about it had Chance‟s knees feeling weak again.

Rory stepped into the bathroom distracting Chance from his thoughts. Hard to think, period, with
all that taut naked flesh on display.

He felt unsettled inside, as weakened by the emotions flaring up as he had been by the physical act
between them. Looking at Rory now, at his guileless blue eyes that couldn‟t hide his thoughts or
feelings, Chance felt something still inside himself.

“Rory…I…” Chance gave in and reached for Rory, pulling him in close. He tenderly stroked a curl
off the younger man‟s sweaty brow. How could he explain these new feelings that had grown over
the past weeks? Chance wasn‟t sure he could. He tipped his chin up, bringing his lips to Rory‟s
plump mouth.

With the pressing need temporarily sated, Chance was able to savour the feel of Rory‟s swollen lips
against his own. He cupped the back of Rory‟s neck and head with both hands as the younger man‟s
arms wrapped around his waist, pulling their upper bodies together until nothing could slip between
them. The taste of Rory‟s mouth was thrilling—Chance licked deeper into Rory‟s moist heat,
tongues brushing against one another languorously.

Chance was so lost in the kiss that he had no idea how much time had passed. “Come on, Rory.”
Chance stepped back and grinned. “I‟m afraid the water may be cold now. You want to wait a bit to
shower?” Chance stuck his hand under the shower spray and quickly pulled it back out. “Shit!” He
glanced back to see Rory‟s lips twitching with amusement.

“Little cold?”

“Damn near freezing. It‟d definitely wilt your weenie.”

Rory looked startled for all of two seconds before he burst out laughing. “Oh, Christ, Chance!”
Rory swiped at his eyes as he shook his head. “I seriously did not need that image—or the phrase
„wilt your weenie‟—to be stuck in my head.”

Chance could swear he could feel the red flush crawl over his skin as he turned off the water. He‟d
spoken without thinking, but if a little embarrassment on his part had Rory laughing so joyously,
Chance knew he‟d do it again. And again, because Rory lit up with laughter was a beautiful sight
unmatched by anything he could think of.

“Well, I guess I just liked the semi-alliteration.” Chance pretended to think it over, tapping his
index finger against his chin before nodding. “Yeah, I just don‟t think shrinking your shaft or
cowering your cock has quite the same effect.”

Rory laughed again and reached for Chance‟s hands. He laced their fingers together and tugged
until only a few inches separated them. A serious light sparked in his blue eyes, all traces of
laughter now gone.

“Chance.”

His name came out as a breathless whisper. Chance felt his heart thump frantically against his ribs.
Everything in Rory‟s demeanour warned him of what the man wanted to say. He shook his head at
Rory, just a slight movement so as not to break away from Rory‟s gaze. Chance saw a flare of pain
in that gaze and shook his head again.

“I‟m not dismissing what you want to say. I wouldn‟t do that. I just…” Am scared as hell to believe
it. “I just want you to think about it, be sure that you aren‟t just being influenced by how
goddamned perfect the sex—”

Rory jerked his hands free and stepped back, pain etched into white lines bracketing his mouth, his
full lips pressed into a narrow slash of anger.

“Rory—” Chance stepped towards him, hand extended, guilt driving him to try to soothe away the
hurt he‟d caused.

“No.” Rory backed further away, denying Chance absolution. “You think I‟m too damn stupid to
know what I think, what I feel?” Rory‟s eyes were almost black, the deep blue irises nearly
swallowed by the dilated pupils. “You think I‟m some fucking flighty kid?”

Chance almost dropped his hand, almost gave up in the face of Rory‟s anger. Wouldn’t that make
me the flighty one, to give up so fucking easily? No, he had done this with his own thoughtlessness,
and he would damn well fix it. Chance moved forward, matching his steps to Rory‟s retreating
ones. When Rory‟s back hit the bathroom door, Chance grabbed the man‟s wrist, holding it firm
when Rory tried to shake free.

“Fucking let go, Chance!” Rory‟s eyes blazed with anger, and Chance had a moment‟s worry that
the younger man might knock the hell out of him.

He gave a mental shrug, deciding that if Rory did swing at him it was only what he deserved. When
Rory did nothing more than vibrate with hurt and fury, Chance stepped closer. He‟d given Rory an
opportunity to lash out—now he would make such a move difficult.

“Listen to me.” The use of his best boss voice had the desired effect, snapping Rory‟s mouth shut.
Chance brought his other hand up and reached for Rory‟s cheek, pushing aside his own hurt when
the man flinched as if to evade the touch. He stroked Rory from cheek to chest, stilling his hand
over Rory‟s pounding heart.

“I didn‟t mean any of those things—you aren‟t stupid or flighty.” Chance saw confusion replace
some of the anger in Rory‟s eyes.

“Then what the—”

Chance shook Rory‟s wrist to shut the man up, took a deep breath to clear his own thoughts.

“I fucked up, Rory, and I‟m sorry. I didn‟t mean to hurt you.” Chance looked away for a moment,
shaken by the depth of pain he saw in Rory‟s expression.

“Then what did you mean to do, Chance? Because I don‟t know.” Rory reached up and grasped
Chance‟s chin, pulling his head back around to meet Rory‟s confused blue eyes. “What do you want

from me, Chance? You don‟t want a casual fuck, but you don‟t want emotional involvement?” Rory
shook his head. “Do you even know what you want?”

Rory frowned at him as Chance considered the man‟s questions. No way did he want to screw up all
over again.

“Yeah.” Chance tipped his chin out of Rory‟s hold. “I do know what I want. But first, what I meant
was, make sure you‟re sure. No.” He pressed a finger against Rory‟s lips. “No. This time, you listen
to what I‟m saying before you get all pissed off.”

Chance held Rory‟s stare until he nodded in agreement, then he stepped back, not wanting to
influence Rory with the strength of their physical attraction.

“I meant, be goddamned sure, Rory, because if you say it, I‟m not letting you go.” The stunned look
on Rory‟s face would have been priceless had Chance been able to see past his own need to ensure
that his lover understood just how serious he was.

“What I want from you is exactly what you want to offer. But what I need,”—Chance‟s hands fisted
at his sides—“is for you to stop thinking that I don‟t respect you, because I do, and as long as you
don‟t get that then shit like this will keep happening. I‟m not saying this is your fault, but…”

God, no doubt he was screwing up all over again. Rory looked confused as hell, but Chance made
himself forge on—he had to make the man understand.

“You didn‟t even give me a chance to explain before you got pissed. You just assumed the worst.
Doesn‟t say much for your opinion of me, but I can see where it might take a while to undo the
damage I‟ve done.” This time it was Chance who stepped backwards as Rory approached.

“I‟m sorry. You‟re right. I know you haven‟t accused me of being any of the things I said. You‟re
not someone who plays games or uses people. I know that, I just…” Rory looked stumped for an
explanation.

Chance stayed quiet, giving the man time to figure out what he wanted to say. He wasn‟t going to
jump in with any assumptions—that kind of thing was what had led to this whole misunderstanding.

Rory gave a start, cheeks flushing red with his sudden comprehension. He looked at Chance and
was embarrassed and so cute with it that Chance found it difficult not to intervene.

“Shit. I think…I think I let insecurity take over.” Rory shuddered, actually shuddered as though the
confession were distasteful. “Uh. I can see maybe how this whole talking about feelings and stuff is
uncomfortable.” He offered Chance a sheepish smile.

Smiling back, Chance felt a weight lift off his shoulders. “Yeah, it is, and I think both of us will
probably fuck it up plenty of times. But—and here‟s the important part, Rory—” Chance gave in to
the need to touch and took Rory‟s hands. “If we both try to remember that this whole relationship
thing is something new—I‟m thinking you haven‟t done this much more than I have, right?”

Rory laughed and squeezed Chance‟s hands. “I don‟t think what happened with…with Art was
what you‟d exactly call a relationship, so no.” Ruddy slashes marked Rory‟s cheeks at the
admission as he looked away.

“Wait. What…” Chance ran Rory‟s statement over again is his mind and still came to the same
conclusion, which couldn‟t be right. “You don‟t mean that he was the only—no. You mean the rest
were just casual. Right?” Has to be what he means.

The colour on Rory‟s cheeks darkened as he kept his gaze averted. “Told you I don‟t do that casual
shit.”

Defensive and softly spoken, the words had Chance‟s mind reeling. Yeah, Rory had said something
to that effect, but Chance had still figured the man had some experience other than Art.

Chance‟s stomach clenched painfully. Shit, had he ever been even half the man Rory was? He‟d
been a slut at that age, not giving a damn about anything much other than the next lay or the next
bull ride. But if Rory didn‟t do causal, what had he been doing at the bar that first night? Chance
tried to push the question aside but couldn‟t.

“Not that I‟m doubting you, but now you have me confused.”

Rory‟s brow furrowed with confusion. “Confusing you how?”

Chance reached up and swiped at Rory‟s brow, smoothing out the lines there and then shrugged.
“Since you don‟t do the one night thing, why were you at the bar a few weeks ago? That‟s about all
those places are there for.”

Rory shrugged and looked away, embarrassment evident in the way his shoulders hunched. “I didn‟t
know.”

Now it was Chance‟s brow that wrinkled. “What do you mean you didn‟t know?”

Rory sighed and shook his head, still refusing to look at Chance. “I mean, I was naïve and stupid—
and curious. I don‟t know what I expected, but it wasn‟t what I found there in that bar.” Rory finally
met Chance‟s gaze. “I know that makes me sound like some kind of idiot, but I was a little shocked
when I saw what was going on it that place. And then… “

Rory‟s smile started out small and sweet, but grew as he looked Chance over. “There you were,
trying to escape from two twinks. Something started burning inside me and all I could think about
was how much I needed to touch you. So I did.” He shrugged, which did things to his chest and
strong muscles that threatened to make Chance forget what they were talking about.

The club, and Rory thinking he was an idiot. Chance reached up and traced Rory‟s jaw line with the
back of his knuckles. “It doesn‟t make you stupid or an idiot not to have known what clubs like that
are for. Probably a sign that you have better sense than anyone else in the place, myself included. I
was there, knowing what the place was, looking for something that I knew I wouldn‟t find there.”

Chance rubbed Rory‟s lower lip with the pad of his thumb. “So you tell me, which one of us was
the stupid one?”

Rory sucked the tip of Chance‟s thumb into his mouth and swirled his tongue around the callused
skin. It was a seductive move that had goose bumps rising all over Chance‟s body by the time Rory
stopped and released Chance‟s thumb. “Neither. I think maybe we were just lonely.”

It took Chance a full minute to remember what the question was to Rory‟s answer. Once he did, he
realised the younger man was right.

“I don‟t deserve you.” The words were out before Chance could censor them. He pressed as close to
Rory as he could, leaning forward so the next words were whispered into Rory‟s ear. “But I am
damn sure going to keep you.”

A shaky relieved laugh accompanied the movement of Rory‟s arms as he hugged Chance. “I think
you do, and I‟m going to keep you, too, boss.”

Chance didn‟t think he‟d ever heard a better vow than that one. He just hoped Rory felt that way for
a very long time, like another forty or fifty years.

Chapter Thirteen

Chance sat at his desk, lost in thought. He had fucked up plenty of times, and he‟d learned to do
what he needed to in order to rectify his mistakes. Forgiving himself had never been easy, but he‟d
thought he had managed, for the most part.

Now he was faced with the realisation that the biggest mistake of his life had never really been
addressed, and because of that, Rory had been hurt. Chance would have to live with the knowledge
that, if he‟d only had the balls to do something when Art had assaulted him, if he‟d only spoken out
or beat the man to death…

But he hadn‟t done anything, other than quit the circuit. He‟d accepted what Art had done to him as
a just punishment for too long, never stopping to think that the psychotic asshole might do the same
thing to someone else. And, with age comes wisdom—hopefully. Chance knew now that he hadn‟t
deserved what happened to him. It had just been easier to slink away.

He couldn‟t do that this time. Whether it was his own sense of culpability or the sheer evil act Art
had perpetrated on Rory, or a mix of both, Chance couldn‟t be passive any more. He cared too
deeply for his younger lover, and he ached with the need for retribution on Rory‟s behalf.

Then there was also the very real threat to Rory‟s sister. Art had played both ways back when
Chance knew him, and he had no reason to think the man restricted his violence to one sex.

Rory would be opposed, Chance was certain. Not to protecting Annabelle, but to the confrontation
Chance had in mind with Art. It would happen, though, and Chance just hoped Rory would forgive
him for it afterwards.

First things first, Chance needed a reason to head up north, one that didn‟t involve paying a visit to
a certain son of a bitch. He also needed to see if he could find out anything about Art‟s schedule, his
habits, when he was away from the Mossy Glenn, because it was a sure bet that Chance wouldn‟t be
allowed to set foot on that property. Asking Annabelle for any help was out, as she would definitely
tell her brother. Besides that, if Art found out she was involved in any way…That didn‟t bear
thinking about, other than as something to avoid at all costs.

He needed to do some research, find out if there was any good stock for sale somewhere near the
Mossy Glenn. And he needed to find out as much as he could about Art. It was past time for a
reckoning between them.

Hours later, Chance stretched and tried to pop the kinks out of his back. He‟d found some stock that
he really was interested in, and the price was right. The drive to Montana was going to suck, but it
couldn‟t be helped.

He also had a plan, albeit a loosely formed one that involved a lot of hanging around in town a few
miles from the Mossy G and waiting for Art to make a visit. Unless he‟d changed drastically—and
obviously, he hadn‟t—Art would be in town often. The man had been easily bored and allergic to
hard work when Chance had known him. Two or three days at the most, and Chance would have the
opportunity he wanted. He just hoped there weren‟t any witnesses around.

Pounding on the front door startled him. He‟d been so focussed on formulating a plan that he hadn‟t
heard anyone drive up. Chance hurried to the door, the nonstop banging on it sparking his temper.

He skidded to a halt upon seeing the smiling face on the other side of the screen door. How he
managed to keep from groaning was beyond him.

This was all he needed now—one of his exes showing up to make his life hell. Before Chance could
even ask what the hell the other man was doing here, his unwanted visitor squealed—which Chance
believed no grown man should ever do—and yanked the screen door open.

“Oh my God, Chance Galloway! I can‟t believe I finally found you!” This particular ex was
obviously still made of equal parts energy and horny—but he‟d also known Art, which was the only
reason Chance didn‟t shove the guy right out the door.

He did, however, bat the man‟s groping hands away from his ass…and dick.

“Bo, cut it out. I mean it.” Maybe if he said it a few more times, Bo would actually listen. “What are
you doing here, anyway?”

Bo lowered his lashes and gave him what Chance guessed was supposed to be a coy look—he really
wasn‟t sure.

“Is there somewhere we can talk? About what you‟ve got in the way of rough stock?”

Chance studied his ex for several moments before nodding. As he led the way to his office, Chance
didn‟t doubt for a minute that Bo had more on his mind than the status of the rough stock. And he
wasn‟t sure he wanted to know just what that more was.

* * * *

Rory pulled the ranch truck into the drive, staring at the shiny new SUV that was parked by
Chance‟s house. He turned the ignition off, trying to remember if Chance had mentioned he was

expecting company, either business or personal. Nothing came to mind, and his curiosity kicked up
a notch.

Deciding to forgo a shower first, Rory got out and walked up the porch. He started to knock but
caught himself. Chance had told him on more than one occasion not to bother knocking, that he was
welcome any time. He opened the door and looked around. The sound of voices coming from
Chance‟s office caught his attention—specifically, a sexy voice that gave a new meaning to oral
sex. Anxiety and something Rory suspected was jealousy reared up inside him.

For a brief second, he considered pulling off his boots and trying to sneak over to the door. That he
even thought of doing such a thing filled Rory with shame. He trusted his lover—Chance might
have been someone who fucked around when he was younger, but he had told Rory he was a
different person now.

Taking a breath to steady himself, Rory approached the office. He‟d just raised his hand to knock
when the owner of that silky voice spoke again.

“Come on, Chance. I can make sure you get a contract with the rodeo for your rough stock once
you‟re finally ready. What‟s it going to hurt for you to give me a little incentive? You used to be
able to suck dick so good it made my eyes cross.” Sultry laughter followed the proclamation.

As much as Rory agreed with the assessment of Chance‟s cock-sucking skills, he didn‟t like hearing
it from another man‟s lips.

“We won‟t be ready for anything like that for at least two years. Even so, you can shove your
contract—”

Rory banged on the office door before Chance could finish his angry declaration.

“Come in!”

Anger tinged the words and Rory bit back a grin. He wasn‟t feeling jealous anymore; instead, he
was anticipating staking his claim. Like some damn alpha, Rory thought to himself. Well, if the boot
fits…

He opened the door and immediately looked at Chance and the man trying to get a blowjob from his
lover. Chance looked angry and anxious, probably worried that Rory would get the wrong idea.
Rory winked at him, wanting to set him at ease as much as he could. The stranger—to Rory,
anyway—was small, blond-headed and pretty rather than handsome. He was also glaring at Rory
while trying to grope an unwilling Chance.

Chance had a hand wrapped around the other man‟s wrist, preventing it from lowering the couple of
inches necessary to reach Chance‟s dick. His other hand was on the smaller man‟s chest, pushing to
keep him back. Rory‟s lips quirked as he shook his head.

“Damn, love, I can‟t leave you alone for one minute without some aging twink trying to hit on you,
can I?”

Relief lit Chance‟s eyes and the groper jerked back and gave Rory a venomous look.

“Who the fuck are you?” The little man was fairly quivering with anger. Chance started to speak but
Rory shook his head, never looking away from the man who‟d been trying to seduce—or, rather,
maul—his lover.

“I‟m the man”—Rory walked closer, not stopping until he was towering over the little twit—“who
is the sole benefactor of those blowjobs you were speaking so highly of.”

Rory winked at Chance again before turning back to the task at hand, which was, he supposed,
defending his man‟s virtue. Or maybe he was marking his territory—it didn‟t really matter in the
end, as long as his message got across.

The other man eyed him warily. “I don‟t believe you. Chance has always been a slut—”

Rory had a new understanding of what it meant to see red. His hands clenched into fists and he took
a step forward, unable to stop himself. Chance jumped out of his chair and pushed the smaller man
back, bouncing him into the wall. Rory was so mad he didn‟t know how he managed to keep from
decking the little fool.

“Hey, baby.” Chance pressed up against Rory, giving full contact from chest to knees. He wrapped
his arms around Rory‟s waist and held on tight. He squeezed once, hard, and it got Rory‟s attention.

Unclenching his fists, Rory looked into Chance‟s dark brown eyes and felt his hot temper drain
away. There was no way he could be angry about anything when the man he loved looked at him
like that—like he loved Rory. Maybe he did—Rory thought they just might both be on the same
page there, but he was afraid to ask, much less try to say it after the last time he tried.

Still, the tender feeling had a smile blooming on Rory‟s mouth and an answering one spreading on
Chance‟s.

“All right, I won‟t kill the little shit.” Yet. If the idiot got the message.

Chance laughed and shook his head. “Bo isn‟t worth it, baby. Some people just don‟t grow up.”

“Hey! That‟s bullshit!” The little man—Bo—piped up behind Chance. He edged his way over to
Chance‟s desk and plopped down in the chair, making himself at home. Rory and Chance both
arched a brow at him.

“Bo.” Chance started to pull away but Rory held him close. “Get your bony ass out of my chair!”

Bo rolled his eyes and stuck out his lower lip. “Come on, Chance! Would you seriously rather be
sitting here than standing there with a double armful of handsome man?”

Chance wasn‟t mollified. “No, I‟d rather be where I am and have your ass out of my chair!”

“So I guess propping my feet on your desk is out of the question?” Bo made to raise his legs and it
was all Rory could do to hold Chance back.

“If you know what‟s good for you, you will move before I turn my lover loose on you,” Rory
threatened.

Bo laughed. “Oh, he wouldn‟t hurt me, we used to be—”

Rory let go and Chance spun on his heel and charged. Bo squeaked, a sound Rory firmly believed
no man should ever make, and dove around the other side of the desk.

“Fuck, Chance! It‟s just a damn chair!” The smaller man continued circling the desk as Chance
stalked him.

“You come in here, try to maul me, and then have the goddamn nerve to tell me I should blow you
over a contract. You grope and insult me again—” Chance‟s voice was growing louder with each
word. “I swear to God, Bo—”

Chance stopped yelling and burst out laughing when Bo darted around to hide behind Rory. “Do
you really think that‟s the safest place to hide?”

Rory bit back a grin. Suddenly this whole thing seemed ridiculous. He reached behind himself and
grabbed Bo‟s arm. One tug and the smaller man was standing in front of him.

“I think that‟s enough of being a dumbass for one day—for all of us.” Rory stared first at Bo, then
at Chance. Both men nodded and Rory let go of the smaller man. “Good. Bo—” He waited till the
man met his gaze. “That man,”—Rory pointed to his lover—“is taken, period. I don‟t share and we
don‟t play, got it?”

Bo shot a look at Chance, who nodded in agreement. “Yeah, okay. But you can‟t blame me for
trying, can you?”

Rory rather thought he could but didn‟t see what the point of it would be. “Just don‟t try it again.
And you can pass that message on along to anyone else who might think about trying this shit.”

“Fine, fine, and I suppose Chance doesn‟t share, either, right?” Bo looked up at Rory and batted his
eyelashes.

“No.” Chance‟s voice was cold. “I don‟t. Cut it out before I decide to beat your ass after all.”

“Bo.” Rory was looking down at the man‟s fluttering lashes. “Someone ought to tell you, so I guess
I will—that looks absolutely silly on a man your age.”

Chance laughed and Bo sputtered. “It‟s not silly, it‟s sexy!”

Rory just shook his head and actually found himself feeling a little sorry for the man. “No, really,
it‟s not sexy. I thought you had something in your eye at first, man.”

“But…but I‟ve always flirted and…” Bo trailed off, looking wounded by the comment. Rory tried
not to feel bad—he figured someone should tell the man the truth.

“People change,” Chance pointed out. “Maybe you need to start thinking about that.”

Bo looked at Chance and Rory for several long seconds. Finally, he nodded. “Yeah, maybe I
should, because I want that—” He gestured to them with his hand. “Whatever it is between the two
of you.”

Rory pulled Chance to his side and put his arm around his lover‟s shoulders. “Find your own,
buddy.” He was only half teasing.

Bo looked down at his boots and crossed his arms over his chest. “It‟s just hard, you know? All the
men my age are looking for guys who look barely legal, and all the young guys…” He looked up
and gave Rory a weak grin and shrugged. “Present company excepted, are looking for a fast fuck. I
guess I kind of gave up on anything other than a good time once I realised that.”

He wasn‟t sure that was accurate, but Rory softened towards the little guy regardless. Chance must
have, too, because Rory felt the tension leave his lover‟s body.

“Look, why don‟t you stay for dinner.” Chance cast a quick look back at Rory, who nodded in
agreement. “Hell, we‟ll invite Max, too, and just have beer and burgers.”

“Are you sure? I mean, after what…well, I acted like a jackass.” Bo took a deep breath and stood up
straight, hands at his sides. “I am sorry.”

He looked sincere. Rory nudged Chance with his hip.

“Apology accepted, before I get hip-checked into the desk,” Chance teased, winking at Rory. “Now,
enough of this girly emotional stuff, let‟s round up Max before my stomach gnaws a hole through
my spine.”

Rory couldn‟t resist. He brought his mouth to Chance‟s ear, brushing his lips over it and enjoying
the shudder that went through his lover‟s body. “I plan on doing some nibbling of my own tonight,”
he promised, then lightly nipped the edge of Chance‟s ear.

“Shit,” Chance stammered, eyes sliding almost shut as he trembled again.

“Guys, that‟s just cruel,” Bo whined, but he had a big grin on his face. “Now, come on and
introduce me to this Max.” He left the office, calling out over his shoulder, “If you two aren‟t out in
two minutes, I‟m coming in with a water hose!”

Chance turned and pressed his body against Rory‟s and jerked their hips together, grinding hard.
Rory thought the top of his head was going to blow off as his cock rubbed against Chance‟s. He
heard his lover mutter something but couldn‟t make out what he said.

“What‟s that? I can‟t hear you with the sound of all my blood from my brain rushing south so fast it
makes my ears ring.” Rory swiveled his hips again and moaned. His cock twitched and Rory knew
he was going to have to change jeans because sure as shit he had just got a wet spot on the ones he
was wearing.

Chance moaned and rocked his hips one more time then stepped back. “I said I should have just
thrown the little fu—guy out, then we could have taken care of these.” Chance looked at Rory‟s
cock, then his own and started laughing.

Rory checked Chance‟s jeans and his own—yep, two pairs of clean jeans were definitely needed.

“Think the hose will stretch far enough?” Bo‟s voice rang out from the kitchen.

“Coming,” Chance yelled back, gaze on Rory. “Almost, anyways.”

Chapter Fourteen

Dinner passed in a surprisingly pleasant manner. It had been so long since Chance had company
over, other than his lover, that he felt a bit rusty with his people skills. Still, he enjoyed it and he
thought everyone else did, too.

Since Rory had come into his life, Chance had come to realise he had cut himself off from
everyone. People who had known him when he was younger—specifically, the ones who had
known he was gay and promiscuous—were the people he had wanted to avoid. Seeing Bo again had
brought up feelings of shame that Chance had thought he‟d buried.

The fact that he hadn‟t, made it suddenly obvious to him he shouldn‟t bury it. It sounded like some
new age-y crap to him at first, but he was coming to believe he needed to forgive himself and let it
go rather than hiding away and trying to forget he‟d ever been young and dumb. After all, hadn‟t
those experiences that he wasn‟t proud of helped make him into the man he was today? Yeah, he
was going to have to admit they did.

So, enough skulking around hiding from his past. He wasn‟t going to go telling the world he was a
reformed slut, but he was through being ashamed about it. He‟d fucked up—and around—but he
was done being that man, had been for years now.

“You‟ve got a self-satisfied smile there.” Rory touched his finger to Chance‟s lips and rubbed
lightly.

Chance took Rory‟s hand in his own and placed an open-mouthed kiss on his lover‟s palm. “Just
plumb satisfied, baby, all the way around.” He nipped Rory‟s palm then brought the younger man‟s
hand to rest against his heart.

Rory‟s pupils dilated until his irises were just thin deep blue rings around the pupils. Chance felt
himself falling into those dark depths, the sound of Max and Bo talking and laughing across the
room fading out until all he heard was the beating of his heart.

He felt a moment of panic when he realised his brain had sent the signal to his mouth to speak.
Chance hadn‟t planned to say anything, not yet, but…

“You know I love you, Rory.”

It was easy. He‟d worried he would stumble over the words, wouldn‟t know how to say them since
he‟d never said them before.

Rory‟s eyes widened with surprise—Chance heard his lover‟s breath rush out like someone had
kicked the man in the diaphragm, his mouth dropped open and stayed that way for a few seconds.
Long enough that Chance was about to reach out and push Rory‟s chin up.

Instead he brushed his fingers along the square line of Rory‟s jaw, watching as Rory‟s skin heated
up with a flush and a brilliant smile formed on that wide, sexy mouth.

“God, Chance, you know, I wanted to tell you before that I love you but…” Rory‟s words were
rushed together like he was afraid Chance would cut him off before he could get the proclamation
out. “You told me to think about it, but I didn‟t need to, Chance. I‟ve loved you for a while and
knew it before we ever even—and I need you inside me. Now.” Rory stood and tugged on Chance‟s
hand.

He didn‟t need any more encouragement; Chance got off the couch and tore his gaze from his
lover‟s heart-melting eyes. He looked at Max and Bo who were watching intently. With a sheepish
grin, he shrugged his shoulders. The other two men grinned back.

“Go on, me and Bo here will be all right.” Max tipped his head towards Bo. “Might be best if we
head over to the bunkhouse, play some poker if ya have a mind to.”

Bo‟s eyes were lit with mischief. “Yeah, I have a feeling it‟s gonna get noisy in here.” He stood and
looked at Max. “Lead the way, buddy.”

Chance and Rory didn‟t stay to watch them leave. Together they walked to the bedroom, closing the
door softly behind them. The first kiss was tender and sweet—an exploration of their newly
admitted love. Rory opened for Chance like a gift, soft lips parting to let Chance‟s tongue sweep in
and brush across the roof of his mouth.

The scent of Rory, man and soap with a hint of sweat, filled Chance‟s senses as he twined his
tongue with his lover‟s. He gripped Rory‟s hips, felt him tremble then Rory‟s arms were wrapping
around his shoulders, those big hands cupping his neck and the back of his head. Chance pulled
Rory‟s hips in and ground their cocks together, and the kiss went from sweet to scorching in a flash.

He stepped back and reached for Rory‟s shirt, carefully unbuttoning it as his lover stood trembling
before him. He pushed the shirt down Rory‟s broad shoulders until it hung on his wrists. Chance
trailed his fingers down Rory‟s arms, the skittering breaths from the man making Chance‟s cock
throb with anticipation. The buttons that held the shirt on at the wrists were frustratingly smaller but
Chance finally worked them free and tossed the shirt aside.

He walked Rory backwards, stopping only when the bed hit the back of his knees. Rory sat and
Chance kneeled down on the floor. He tugged off Rory‟s boots and socks then unfastened his jeans.

“Lay back, baby.” Chance grabbed the sides of Rory‟s waistband and briefs and pulled, heart
beating a little faster when Rory lifted his hips up and his pretty cock was freed. He leant down and
ran his tongue from the base of Rory‟s cock to the spongy head, swiping over the leaking slit to lap
up the glistening pre cum gathered there.

Rory groaned and reached for him but Chance stood up and finished stripping the jeans from his
lover‟s body. Rory was so perfect Chance thought his heart might just break from the beauty of
him, but he wanted more. “Scoot up to the centre and spread out for me.”

Rory did as he asked, arms and legs spread wide and now it was Chance‟s turn to feel like someone
had kicked him in the diaphragm. Golden skin and chiseled muscle a god would envy was laid out
before him, those dark blue eyes black with passion. Chance studied Rory, wanting to memorise

every detail of this moment, from the top of his angelic blond head, to the proud, thick shaft tapping
against his lover‟s hard stomach. The heavy sac with its light coating of hair made Chance‟s mouth
water with need, then there was the tight pink hole that clenched as he looked at it.

Need so strong he thought it would bring him to his knees shot through Chance. He made himself
finish, taking note of the defined muscles in Rory‟s thighs and calves, and the long, narrow feet that
held such a strong man.

Bringing his gaze back to Rory‟s, Chance began removing his clothes, feeling his lover‟s stare like
a physical caress. He‟d planned to be smooth and steady, but anything that kept him from being
inside Rory suddenly seemed foolish.

Chance kicked off his boots and peeled down his jeans and underwear. He unbuttoned his shirt far
enough to get it over his head then pulled it off, cursing when the buttons at the wrist kept him from
removing it easily. Chance got them undone, though he thought he heard one or two of them hit the
floor. He toed off his socks and climbed onto the bed between Rory‟s thighs.

Reaching behind him, he grabbed Rory‟s calves and tugged until Rory‟s legs were bent at the knees
and his feet flat on the bed.

“Damn, baby, you are so perfect, your cock hard and dripping.” Chance couldn‟t pull his gaze away
from the vision before him. “Your balls already pulling up tight, and here—” He ran a finger from
Rory‟s perineum to his pink hole. “Here you fucking take my breath.”

Rory moaned and started to sit up, reaching for Chance. “Please, Chance, I need you to fuck me.”

Chance chuckled and evaded Rory‟s grasp. “I am. I‟d wanted to do more, but not this time, not with
you looking at me like that. It‟s going to be hard and fast.”

Rory was nodding vigorously, the movement jerky enough that it made his cock bounce. Chance
rubbed his finger over Rory‟s hole, pressing firmly but not penetrating.

“Lube. Rory, I need—” Chance snatched the tube out of the air. Rory must have tucked it under the
pillow last night, Chance thought, then let his brain shut off and his body take over.

He popped open the cap and poured a thin line lube straight onto his dick. He rubbed it in quickly,
too eager and needy to trust himself. Another dollop for his fingers, then he poured some right
below Rory‟s balls, letting the liquid slide down to Rory‟s puckered opening.

Chance couldn‟t wait, didn‟t have the strength to play. He rubbed a knuckle over Rory‟s hole then
pushed the tip of his index finger in. Rory jerked his hips and pushed down trying to take more.
Chance thrust his finger in Rory‟s clenching heat and twisted his wrist, dragging his finger across
the spongy gland and causing Rory to gasp and writhe on the bed. He pumped his finger into Rory
until he felt the little ring of muscles loosen enough for him to slide a second finger in. Chance
worked Rory‟s ass, corkscrewing his fingers and rubbing Rory‟s prostate until Rory was almost
sobbing with need.

He pulled his fingers out and grabbed Rory‟s legs. Chance put his hands on the back of Rory‟s
thighs and pushed his lover‟s legs up until they nearly lay on Rory‟s chest. Rory reached down and
held his legs, spreading himself. Chance lined up his cock and began pressing in. He leant over

Rory, holding himself up on his forearms as Rory locked his legs around Chance‟s waist and
squeezed.

Chance got the hint. He lowered himself and slid his hands under Rory‟s back, latching on to his
shoulders from the underside. Then he thrust hard and sunk balls-deep into his man. Rory‟s back
arched and his inner muscles clamped down hard and Chance knew he wasn‟t going to last long at
all. He started to push himself up enough for Rory to slip a hand between them and jack himself but
Rory shook his head and pulled Chance down firmly against him. Chance looked into Rory‟s slitted
eyes and felt the heat from those midnight depths skitter down his spine.

“Just like this, it‟s all I need.” Rory licked Chance‟s lips and Chance decided his lover knew what
suited him best.

Chance drew his hips back, almost withdrawing entirely before slamming back into Rory‟s tight
ass. He tried to get a rhythm going but he was too far gone and Rory was too damn intoxicating.
Chance‟s thrusts were erratic and rough and Rory met him each time, hips rising to take as much of
Chance‟s cock as he could.

The sudden widening of Rory‟s eyes was all the warning Chance got before his lover cried out and
wet heat spread between their bodies. Rory‟s channel squeezed painfully tight around Chance‟s
cock, milking it of spurt after spurt of cum.

Rory was panting as hard as Chance was by the time their orgasms passed. Chance let himself lay
on Rory, knowing the bigger man could handle his weight for a while. He sought a gentle kiss from
his lover and got it, revelling in the fact that this man loved him and was his. His eyes burned and
he clamped his lids down tight until he got his emotions under control. Chance rested his head on
Rory‟s shoulder and murmured soft words of love in the younger man‟s ear, smiling when he
realised his lover had fallen asleep.

Rory had opened up and given Chance everything. Despite the trauma of his past, he loved Chance
and wanted to be with him. He didn‟t know how or why he‟d got so lucky as to have a man like
Rory by his side, but Chance was going to do everything he could to keep him.

* * * *

Rory understood the whole cup running over thing now. Ever since Chance had said those three
little words, Rory had felt like he was floating, his head in the clouds and his heart spilling over
with love and so much happiness—

He snorted almost as loud as one of the horses. Gushing like that, even to himself, reminded him of
one of those happily ever after stories. Still, as farfetched as those tales seemed, Rory believed he
and Chance had a good shot at their own happy ending. It wouldn‟t always be easy, but it‟d be
interesting, and more rewarding than anything else ever had been.

Chance had proven his integrity to Rory more than once, and he‟d been nothing but supportive of
Rory. If he hadn‟t had Chance with him, literally holding his hand, Rory didn‟t think he would have

been able to make the phone call to Annabelle earlier in the day. Rory had left her several messages,
all of which Annabelle claimed she never got. Rory believed her; it would be just like their old man,
or Art, to sneak Annabelle‟s phone away and delete Rory‟s calls and voicemails. He‟d been on the
verge of heading to Montana if he didn‟t get hold of Annabelle when she‟d finally answered his
call.

Telling his sister the full truth about what had happened between Art and him—

No, Rory cut his thought off right there. It hadn‟t been about what happened between them, but
rather about what Art had done to him. Rory had tried to keep that information as bare as he could,
but Annabelle hadn‟t ever been anyone‟s fool, and when her questions caused Rory‟s throat to
tighten and his jaws to clamp down against answering, Chance had murmured comforting words for
Rory‟s ears only.

Then he had taken the phone from Rory‟s stiff fingers, and spoken quietly with Annabelle. Rory
hadn‟t listened—had, indeed, deliberately blocked out what was said between his lover and his
sister. Still, he knew that Chance had answered Annabelle‟s questions, and made certain she knew
what kind of sick fuck their dad had running the ranch. He‟d also managed to talk Annabelle out of
killing Art and getting her to agree to act as if she didn‟t know about what he‟d done to Rory,
something Rory himself didn‟t think he could have managed to do.

Afterwards, Chance had held Rory for a long time, soothing him until Rory felt the ground under
his feet was stable once again. He had the feeling Chance would always carry him when he
stumbled, and that meant as much to Rory as the words of love spoken between them the night
before.

“Ain‟t that a love-struck look you‟re wearin‟. Musta been some special night to have ya mooning
over the stall you‟re muckin‟.”

Rory bit back a yelp of surprise at Max‟s teasing words. He‟d been so lost in his own mushy
thoughts that he hadn‟t even heard the other man approach. Rory‟s cheeks heated, but he glanced
over and arched a brow at Max.

“Do you really want the details, Max?”

Max startled Rory even more when he shrugged. “Heard plenty „hands talkin‟ about what they did
and with who before. Comes with bein‟ a man, I guess.”

Rory sputtered and turned to face Max, sure his friend was messing with him. He cocked his hip
and shook a finger at the smaller man. “You better watch what you joke about, Max, you never
know when I might decide to share, and once you hear stuff like that, you can‟t exactly unhear it.”

“Yup,” Max agreed. “That‟s rightly true, but like I said, been plenty of times I had ta listen to one
guy or another talk about what he did with one woman or „nother.” He shrugged. “Didn‟t bother me
with them, won‟t bother me if ya do the same.”

Rory was dumbstruck for all of a full minute, then he shook his head and went back to mucking out
stalls. That whole conversation was just too bizarre to continue.

It didn‟t occur to him until much later that Max might have had an ulterior motive for offering to
listen to stories about Rory‟s sex life—a motive that might just involve a certain aging twink.
Maybe what Max had really wanted was information about the mechanics of what went on between
two men.

That was an intriguing yet disturbing idea, but Rory decided he‟d do some poking at Max and see if
his hunch was right.

Chapter Fifteen

Chance tossed his cell phone from hand to hand as he leant back in the chair at his desk. Trying to
decide on the best way to handle the situation without lying to his lover was proving more difficult
than he‟d thought. Somehow, he didn‟t think Rory would give his blessing for Chance to go to
Montana and beat the ever-lovin‟ shit out of Art.

Truthfully, Chance knew that wouldn‟t do anything more than stir up a new batch of trouble for
Rory. Still, it‟d feel damn good to slam his fist into Art‟s face, though stopping before he killed the
man might be beyond him once he started swinging.

Of course, getting close to Art would be nearly impossible. It wasn‟t like he‟d agree to meet Chance
in a dark alley. Although, if he could get someone to lead the jackass there…

Chance drifted on that fantasy for a few minutes, imagining the impact of his knuckles on skin and
muscle, the satisfying crunch of bone under his fist. Wouldn‟t happen—Chance had no doubt Art
would file charges, and Rory would be furious as well.

The short break from reality did give him an idea about possibly arranging a meeting with Art.
There were a few things that needed to be said—in person, so that Chance‟s expression and voice
could combine to emphasise his words. And now he had a viable plan.

Chance caught the phone in his hand and scrolled down to the phone number of the person he hoped
could help him out.

* * * *

Rory finished brushing Rama down then made sure the big bay had plenty of food and water. He‟d
just patted Rama‟s flank when he heard tires crunching gravel and the rumble of a diesel engine.
Curiosity piqued, Rory left the barn to see who the visitor was. His lips quirked when he spotted
Max walking Bo up the steps to Chance‟s door.

Even from this far away, Rory could see the flirtatious expression on Bo‟s face, and the interest on
Max‟s. However, once they reached the door, Max stopped and gestured for Bo to go inside. Bo

gave Max a sultry look before slipping inside the house. Max tensed, then his entire body shuddered
once Bo was out of sight.

Rory headed up to the house, wishing he were capable of muffling his steps, but with his size and
the gravel, there wasn‟t much of a chance of that happening. Still, when Max turned around, he
seemed completely surprised to find Rory only a few feet away.

“Didn‟t you hear me coming?” Rory bit his cheek to keep from laughing. Max‟s startled look was
more than answer enough.

“Guess my mind was off somewhere else,” Max answered, his entire face and neck flushing.

“Looks like maybe it was in the gutter,” Rory teased, losing the battle not to laugh when Max‟s
blush darkened. The man looked absolutely mortified, and Rory decided to give the smaller man a
break. “What‟s Bo doing here today?”

Max cleared his throat and shrugged. “Said something about helping Chance out with some
problem in Montana. Dunno any more than that.”

Rory‟s smile vanished, his blood running cold as his stomach did a three-sixty. He knew with an
unquestionable certainty exactly why Chance wanted to go to Montana. He even thought he knew
why Chance wanted Bo‟s help. There was no way that Art would come anywhere near Chance, or
Rory, but Bo… Even if Art knew Bo, he would never see the little guy as a threat.

The idea of Art being alone with Bo, though, had a bolt of fear ricocheting through Rory as he
bolted past Max, intent on putting a stop to whatever plan Chance wanted to put into place before it
ever got started. Rory didn‟t believe for one minute that Art‟s interests lay only in young men;
anyone who he thought he could hurt would interest Art. And Rory‟s fear that Art‟s sadism wasn‟t
exclusively directed at men had him living in terror for his sister‟s safety, but Annabelle insisted
that Art hadn‟t so much as given her the slightest hint he was interested in her.

Rory hoped he never did.

Chance‟s office door was closed, and the low murmur of voices he could hear had the fine hairs on
the back of his neck standing at attention. His knock wasn‟t a request as he slung the door open with
his other hand as soon as he smacked the cool wood. The guilty look on his lover‟s face as he jerked
back, putting some distance between him and Bo confirmed Rory‟s suspicions. They‟d been
huddled together, Bo‟s chair pulled up close to Chance‟s, their heads tipped close to each other‟s as
they spoke.

Rory wasn‟t worried that there was anything sexual going on between the two men, so that wasn‟t
the reason his temper spiked up. It was the whole secrecy of their meeting, and the obvious
exclusion of Rory that pissed him off.

He stepped inside the office and quietly shut the door, never looking away from his lover‟s guilty
expression. Rory leant back against the door and crossed his arms over his chest and waited. He‟d
be damned if he asked.

“Maybe I should go,” Bo murmured. Neither man acknowledged his words, although Rory did step
away from the door long enough to let the man beat a hasty retreat. Once Bo was gone, Rory
resumed his position against the door, this time crossing his ankles as well as his arms as he waited.

Chance gestured towards Bo‟s vacated seat. “Why don‟t you—”

“I‟m good,” Rory said. He didn‟t trust himself not to throttle his lover just yet. And it was good for
them both to let Chance squirm a bit. He needed to realise that Rory was a man, and capable of
taking care of himself. He‟d done it most of his life, and certainly ever since his father had
disowned him.

Chance nodded jerkily and cleared his throat. “Okay then.” He picked up a pen and began tapping it
on the desk. Rory arched a brow at the nervous movement and felt a little of his temper recede.
Seeing his lover in such a state of insecurity was actually kind of…sweet. Not that Rory was going
to let him off the hook or anything.

“I—” Chance snapped his mouth shut, his Adam‟s Apple bobbing madly for a few seconds. He
closed his eyes and groaned, dropping the pen to cover his face with his hands.

Rory melted a little more, then gave up on being angry altogether. Both of them were new to this
whole relationship thing, and he realised that, just maybe, the rush and overflow of new emotions
might be something that neither of them were handling too well.

“Hey,” Rory whispered as he knelt beside Chance. He reached for Chance‟s hands, tugging slightly
until the older man finally lowered them, grasping Rory‟s hands almost painfully.

“How bad have I fucked up?” Chance asked, his gaze skittering around the room before settling at
some point over Rory‟s shoulder.

“Not too bad,” Rory reassured him. “If you were just concocting some crazy scheme to confront
Art, and not planning a rendezvous with Bo—”

“No!” Chance‟s dark eyes were drilling into Rory‟s now, his nervousness gone. “I wouldn‟t—that‟s
not ever happening, not with Bo, or anyone else.”

Rory couldn‟t keep the grin back. “I didn‟t think so, which, considering that Bo told Max he was
here to help you out with a „problem‟ in Montana, made me think you might be planning something
a little on the stupid side, like killing Art.” Rory tried to make it into a joke, but the brief flare of
anger in Chance‟s eyes told him he‟d failed.

“I would, if I didn‟t think it‟d make things worse for you.” The quiet words were all the more
threatening for the softness with which they were spoken.

Rory felt his lungs constrict, his heart beating double time. He figured it might just make him a little
twisted that Chance‟s need to avenge him made Rory feel warm and bubbly inside. Still, it couldn‟t
happen—nothing could, really.

“Chance,” Rory said, freeing his hands to cup his lover‟s firm jaw. The rasp of stubble against his
palms threatened to derail his thoughts, but Rory forced himself to concentrate on what needed to

be said. “You can‟t do anything. You can‟t confront Art, or my Dad. It will just make everything
worse, and don‟t forget about Annabelle.”

Chance‟s shoulders jerked as a tic kicked in under his left eye. “I didn‟t forget about your sister, and
I can‟t forget what Art did to you, either. Someone needs to make sure that son of a bitch pays for
hurting you, and ensure that he never does it to anyone else again, either.”

Rory agreed that Art needed to be stopped, but Chance‟s way of attempting to do so wasn‟t going to
work.

“And what do you think Art would do if you did go out there and confront him?” Rory tightened his
hold on Chance‟s jaws, unaware that he did so until he felt his lover flinch. “I‟m sorry,” Rory
murmured as he stroked twin paths down Chance‟s neck. “But you can‟t contact Art. Think about
it—if he‟s hurt, and furious, who‟s he got to take it out on? And he will take it out on someone,
won‟t he?”

The colour leeched from Chance‟s tanned skin in an instant. “Fuck. Fuck! I didn‟t even think about
that! I just… He hurt you, Rory, and I can‟t forget that! It‟s there and—”

Rory leant forward and swallowed Chance‟s words with a kiss that he‟d meant to calm his lover.
However, Chance‟s heady moan flowed into Rory‟s mouth, and his strong arms wrapped around
Rory‟s shoulders. Rory scooted over and slid his body between Chance‟s spread legs, pressing in as
close to the man as he could.

He felt Chance‟s need to protect in each sweep of his lover‟s tongue, each nip and lick as Chance
sought to take over the kiss. Rory let him, giving his lover everything he had, including his
submission. Chance‟s hard muscles trembled beneath his hands, and Rory groaned. Chance
responded by sucking on Rory‟s tongue, pulling it deeper into his mouth before releasing it and
giving Rory license to play.

And Rory did, finding every secret spot, every sweet recess in Chance‟s mouth. Only after he felt he
knew every intimate spot in his lover‟s mouth did Rory separate their lips. He waited for his breath
to regulate enough that he could speak, then Rory looked at Chance, loving the ruddy cheeks and
the dark stubble, the heavy lidded eyes and the flaring of nostrils with each shaky exhalation. Rory
just simply loved him.

“Chance,” Rory rasped, his voice not quite as there as he‟d thought. “Yes, Art hurt me, but don‟t
you see? You don‟t need to kill him or even rip him a new one.”

Chance closed his eyes, his lips tipping down as he shook his head. “I can‟t just let it go.”

Rory cupped the back of Chance‟s head, pulling him forward until their foreheads rested together.
He waited until Chance met his gaze, then smiled softly. “You aren‟t letting it go, Chance. You
don‟t need to do anything to him because…” Rory‟s eyes pricked and burned, but he blinked away
the threatening moisture. “Don‟t you see? You already did something better than that. You helped
me heal.”

* * * *

Chance let himself get lost in Rory‟s eyes for a long moment, let the love and desire he saw swirling
in their depths comfort him. He was constantly amazed at his younger lover. Rory‟s resilience and
compassion, his quiet strength, and his ability to move past the traumatic events in his life—those
things, and so many more, made Rory the exceptional man he was now.

However, Chance couldn‟t ignore the fact there was more than one reason Art needed to be stopped.
The truth of that thought pulled him from the spell of his lover‟s heated gaze.

“He‟ll do it again and again, until he‟s caught,” Chance pointed out, stroking the firm, stubbled line
of Rory‟s jaw. “It might be the next person, or a dozen more after that before someone manages to
put an end to Art‟s sick games. Are you willing to let that happen, to let some other innocent young
man become a victim?”

Chance steeled himself against the hurt and shame in his lover‟s expression as Rory‟s gaze dropped
to the floor. He knew the answer to that question as surely as Rory did.

“No,” Rory whispered. “I… I didn‟t think… I—“ A stuttering breath, then Rory looked up, the
whites of his eyes now smattered with thin red vessels, moisture pooling and threatening to flow
over to his cheeks. “I just want it to be over, to leave it in the past, you know? But you‟re right.
Art—“ Rory shuddered, blinking rapidly before swiping at his eyes. “He enjoys hurting people too
much to just stop.”

“Baby,” Chance rasped, unable to stand to see his lover in pain. “Come here.” Chance stood,
tugging Rory up with him as he did. He guided the younger man over to the couch, then carefully
sat, pulling Rory down with him. A minimal amount of wiggling had them sprawled together on the
worn leather cushions. Chance held Rory tightly with one arm. His other hand was already
fingering the soft blond curls that tickled his chin as Rory rested his head on Chance‟s chest.

“I thought once he had the ranch, maybe he‟d quit.”

Chance‟s brow furrowed as he looked at his hand spearing through Rory‟s hair. “I thought the ranch
was going to your sister?”

Rory‟s snorted, washing Chance‟s chest in warm air. “Yeah, no. Dad—Ian—would never leave the
ranch to a woman, not even his own daughter.”

“But—” Chance broke off, too confused to know just what he wanted to ask.

“I know, if I step one foot back on the property, the ranch goes to Art,” Rory said, confirming part
of the reason for Chance‟s confusion. “But Ian won‟t leave the ranch to Annabelle anyway. There‟ll
be a clause, either requiring her to be married, or pretty much leaving control to Art even if the
ranch is, on the surface at least, left to Annabelle. There will be a hitch—there‟s always a hitch.
That won‟t change with Ian‟s death. He‟ll still try to manipulate everybody even when he‟s six feet
under.”

Chance thought that Ian was every bit a bastard that Art was, and every bit as evil, just in a different
way. Or maybe it didn‟t matter—a sadistic fuck was a sadistic fuck.

“Maybe she could contest it,” he suggested. “Or you could.”

Another snort, and Chance found himself tempted to tug at Rory‟s silky hair. “What is that
supposed to mean?”

Rory tipped his head back, meeting Chance‟s gaze. “Trust me, the old man will definitely have his
lawyers draw up the proverbial iron-clad will. His hatred and manipulation know no bounds.”

“Maybe he‟s the one I should have a little chat with.” In his own way, Ian had hurt Rory every bit
as bad as Art had—probably worse. Chance wouldn‟t mind trying to teach the asshole some
compassion. Or at least hearing him beg for some.

Rory thumped Chance‟s belly, not hard, just enough to get his attention. “There‟s no point in
banging your head against a brick wall, Chance. All that would do anyway is cause more trouble.
Somehow or another, Ian would find a way to make it so.”

Not if he never saw who kicked his ass. Chance saw the narrowing of Rory‟s eyes and knew his
lover was reading him too well.

“So, what were you planning to do, send Bo to Art as bait?”

Chance squirmed under that penetrating stare. He stopped petting Rory‟s hair and buried his fingers
in his own instead. “No, not…not exactly.”

Rory continued to look at him, waiting patiently while Chance battled back the flush stinging at his
cheeks. “I was gonna see if Bo would call and make an offer on some cattle, you know, arrange to
meet up with Art to discuss prices first, then go see the stock.”

“And was Bo ever going to be meeting with Art?” Rory‟s lips compressed to a thin white line when
Chance shook his head. “So what was the brilliant plan?”

Chance flinched at the sarcastic bite in his lover‟s words, but now that he‟d been busted, even he
had to admit it had been a stupid plan. Despite the potential for it being a satisfying one, if Art
became confrontational like Chance suspected he would.

“I just wanted to talk to him, and it wouldn‟t have been Bo meeting with that son of a bitch. It
would have been me, waiting in the hotel room—”

Rory pushed himself up on one arm and rolled his eyes. “And you really think Art would have
showed up? That he wouldn‟t have got suspicious?”

Now Chance felt a flicker of anger. He scooted around until he was sitting . “It isn‟t completely
uncommon to conduct business in a nice hotel room. I would have thought of a reason for the
meeting to take place there; that‟s what I was going to discuss with Bo. He‟s…creative, you could
say.”

“Oh, no doubt,” Rory agreed. “But it was still a stupid idea. Art would have walked away when he
saw you, or, more likely, he‟d have come into that room and taunted you until—”

Chance only thought Rory‟s narrowed eyes earlier was a glare—now he knew better. This was
definitely an angry glare, Rory‟s dark eyes snapping with temper as red streaked his high cheek
bones. Chance had to fight against the impulse to apologise and create a bit more space between
them.

“That was your whole plan, wasn‟t it?” Rory‟s voice was rough and low, nearly vibrating with
anger, and Chance found himself with a hard on in seconds. Not that he‟d mention it, not right now,
anyway. That blazingly pissed-off expression his lover was wearing made it clear there was only
one subject being discussed right now.

“Well, I admit that I knew Art might—”Chance began.

“Might? Might?” Rory stood up and paced before turning back and pointing at Chance. “You knew
damn good and well that Art would definitely go off when he saw you!”

Chance didn‟t bother denying it. “I knew there was a good chance, yes, but I wasn‟t planning on
doing anything about it unless Art became violent.”

“Which he would,” Rory growled out.

“Which he would,” Chance echoed. He caught one of Rory‟s hands and pulled, halting his lover‟s
pacing. “Can you blame me, Rory? Really, do you blame me?”

Rory clasped Chance‟s hand and sat beside him on the couch. “I don‟t blame you, Chance, but you
can‟t just…you can‟t just do something like this. I don‟t need revenge, but I do need you. And
together, we need to take logical steps to prevent Art from doing anything like this again.”

“And what would those logical steps be?” Chance was getting a bad feeling about this.

Rory rolled his head against the back of the couch and looked at him. “We need proof. He took
pictures, I doubt he got rid of them. They‟d be his trophies, right?”

Chance‟s stomach heaved. He didn‟t want anyone seeing those pictures of Rory being violated and
used. That was what Rory was talking about though, wasn‟t it?

“What happens if we manage to get those pictures, and pictures of whoever else Art‟s,”—Chance
couldn‟t push the word „raped‟ past his lips—“hurt?”

Rory shuddered then stiffened beside him. “Then, I guess, we…we have to go to the police, don‟t
we? Or should we do that first?”

At least Rory wasn‟t talking about doing this alone, Chance thought. He shouldn‟t have tried to
handle it by himself, either, but he‟d been so angry…

“I don‟t know if there‟s a statute of limitations,” Chance mused, “and if we contact the police, do
you think they‟re going to take us seriously? Or will they go out and do a half-assed interview and
give Art a heads-up, inadvertent or not?”

Rory huffed, a sound of pure irritation slipping from his lips. “Yeah, I guess they wouldn‟t just take
my word for it and break down his door to find proof. If they even believed me, they‟d want to
interview him, and then Art would have an opportunity to dispose of any proof he had.”

“That‟s what I was afraid of.” Chance thought his original plan to just beat Art into a vegetative
state was sounding like a winner once again.

Rory sat up straight and patted Chance‟s shoulder. “We need to find out where the pictures are, then
contact the police. But how can either of us do that? I can‟t step foot on the ranch, and I can
guarantee you won‟t be allowed on it, either.”

“We need to talk to Annabelle,” Chance said, thinking out loud. He jerked Rory back down to the
couch and waved his hand when Rory started to speak. “Not to have her go looking, but she might
be able to give us an idea of Art‟s schedule, and maybe we can figure out a time and a way I can
look for those pictures.”

Rory looked like he was about to protest, his eyebrows knitting together and his lips tipping down
in a frown. He grumbled then looked at Chance. “Okay, I see your point, and I know why you want
to be the one to sneak onto the ranch—that way, I‟m not violating Ian‟s edicts. I just… I don‟t like
the idea of you being in Art‟s place by yourself.”

“We could ask Bo to go along after all,” Chance said, not too keen on the idea, because they‟d have
to confide in Bo. It wasn‟t a matter of trust, but a matter of not wanting his lover to have to go
through the telling of it again.

“We could,” Rory agreed. “He would be able to keep an eye out while you looked. Guess it‟s a
good enough plan for now.”

Good enough was probably the best they could come up with. Chance stopped Rory in the hall,
gently pushing him up against the wall. Rory gave him a steady look; Chance couldn‟t detect any
nervousness at the prospect of talking to Bo in his lover‟s eyes.

“You sure this is what you want to do?” Chance knew the answer before he even finished asking the
question.

“It‟s what I need to do,” Rory clarified. “And that‟s why I want to do it.”

Chance nodded. He wouldn‟t argue with his lover; Rory knew his own mind, and Chance knew his
lover‟s strength. But more importantly, he knew this man‟s heart, and as he closed his eyes and
opened himself for Rory‟s kiss, Chance clung to that knowledge as surely as his lips clung to
Rory‟s.

Chapter Sixteen

Annabelle hadn‟t like their plan to sneak onto the Mossy Glenn, and she‟d had no qualms about
letting Rory know it. When she reluctantly agreed to help, he should have been suspicious. His

sister had always been every bit as stubborn, if not more so, than he was. Still, neither him or
Chance had a clue that she would take matters into her own hands.

Rory lifted his hat and swiped a forearm across his brow to keep the sweat from running into his
eyes. Dropping the hat back in place, he looked at the barbed wire fence. The wire was stretched
taut and the repair was made. Rory stood up and was strolling over to Rama when his cell rang. He
pulled the phone from the clip on his belt and saw Annabelle‟s number. Rory flipped the phone
open and brought it to his ear.

“Hey, sis, what‟s up?”

“Rory…I found them.” Annabelle‟s voice was thick with tears. Rory frowned; Annabelle wasn‟t a
crier.

“Sis, what‟s wrong? You found what?”

“The p-pictures.” A sob came across the line as shock stopped Rory in his tracks at the realisation
of what pictures his sister had to be talking about.

“Jesus, Annabelle.” Rory pushed a hand against his stomach, trying to shove down the wave of
nausea that hit him. “Don‟t look at them! Just get out of Dad‟s office and—”

“I‟m not in Dad‟s office!”

“Then where—” Rory‟s mouth snapped shut. “Are you in Art‟s bunk house?” Please, God, he
prayed silently, let her say no.

“Yes. I had to, after you told me.” Annabelle‟s voice was now as shaky as her breath. “I won‟t let
him get away with it!”

Rory closed his eyes, fighting to stay rational when panic kept trying to take over. “Get out of there.
Leave everything and get the fuck out of there, Annabelle.”

“No. He isn‟t even here; he drove Daddy to town.”

Rory could hear the rustling of papers over the phone. “God! Rory, he has dozens of pictures—not
just of you. There‟s several men, and he‟s…he‟s—” Annabelle‟s breath hitched.

“Please.” Rory‟s legs gave out and his butt hit the ground. “Annabelle, please quit looking and get
out of there.” Oh God, were any of those men Chance?

“I think I should call the police, Rory. There‟s plenty of pictures with him in them, and there‟s
writing on some of them. Names and…and evil notes.”

“Stop, please.” Rory watched as sweat dripped from his cheek to the dirt. “Those pictures don‟t
prove anything—the police would need proof that they weren‟t consensual. Art isn‟t going to
confess, and a lot of his victims probably won‟t want to testify, either.” He knew he didn‟t.

He could hear the sound of a drawer scraping open, then a startled gasp from his sister.

“Women, oh God, Rory, he has pictures of women, too!” A shadow fell across Rory and he looked
up to find Chance watching him, a concerned look on his face.

“Annabelle, get out of Art‟s room!” Rory pushed himself up and turned away from Chance, unable
to deal with the look on his lover‟s face and the tension and fear boiling up inside of himself.
“Please, if they come back—”

“I told you, they‟ve only been gone a few minutes. It will be hours before they come back. And I
am not walking away from this.” Annabelle‟s voice held a stubborn streak that Rory knew only too
well.

“You don‟t know that! What if they have to turn back around for some reason? What then?” Rory
wouldn‟t be able to live with himself if something happened to his sister because he‟d been stupid
enough to mess around with Art. Chance‟s hand gripped Rory‟s shoulder and pulled him around.
Chance held his other hand out and gestured for the phone.

“Please, baby.” Chance‟s eyes held so much tenderness that Rory felt his eyes stinging with tears.

“Annabelle, Chance wants to talk to you, okay?” Rory heard his sister‟s swift intake of breath.

“He‟s…Chance G, isn‟t he? Your boss, Chance Galloway?”

Rory closed his eyes and nodded, whether to Chance or to the question he suddenly didn‟t have the
voice to answer. Art had obviously kept Chance‟s pictures, too.

“Annabelle, this is Chance—” Rory watched Chance pale, though the man didn‟t look surprised.
“Yeah, the same one. Look, are you sure Art and your dad won‟t be back soon? Rory is very
worried about you.”

Rory could hear his sister‟s voice but he couldn‟t make out her words. He kept his gaze locked with
Chance‟s as Chance listened to whatever it was Annabelle said.

“Okay, why don‟t you do this? Close everything up, slip out of there and back to your place, then
call the police?” Chance‟s hand slid from Rory‟s shoulder to smooth up and down his back.

Rory was torn—his pride didn‟t want anyone else knowing what had happened to him, but to let Art
continue…it was unthinkable. His pride was nothing compared to what Art did to people. Rory
stepped closer to Chance and wrapped his arm around his lover‟s waist. Chance reciprocated by
pressing himself up against Rory‟s chest.

“Yes, Annabelle, I would be willing to talk to the police.” Chance looked at Rory and arched his
brow. Rory nodded, ignoring the knot of fear in his gut. “Rory will, too, though if we can keep him
out of it—”

“No!” Rory shook his head so hard his neck popped. “We can do this, together.” He held Chance‟s
stare until his lover nodded.

“Yeah, he is a stubborn cuss, but I love him.” Chance chuckled briefly, his face lighting up with
laughter as he looked at Rory. “Yes‟ ma‟am, I do, and I promise to take good care of him for you.”
Chance winked and handed Rory the phone.

“Wow, he sounds like a sweetheart.” Annabelle said in a wistful voice. Rory snorted and rolled his
eyes at Chance.

“He‟s a lot of things, sis, but a sweetheart…“ Rory grinned as Chance pinked up with
embarrassment. “Aw, you‟re right, he is a sweetheart.” Rory hissed as Chance pinched his butt,
hard. He narrowed his eyes at his lover and mouthed „payback‟.

“You told him I called him a sweetheart? Rory, you ass!” Annabelle‟s amused voice made Rory
smile. “He‟s gonna think I used that term just because he‟s gay!”

Rory laughed and nuzzled Chance‟s neck. “Did you?” Might as well tease his sister now before all
the shit hit the fan.

“No! I said it because it‟s true!”

Rory heard the door shut over the phone. “Are you out of there?”

“Yes, I am, and walking up the porch steps to the house right now.” The sound of a screen door
slapping shut was carried over the call. “Look, seriously, Rory, I love you, okay? And I‟m sorry,
but Art can‟t get away with this; there was so many—” Annabelle‟s breath hitched again.

“Hey, no, Annabelle, it‟s all right.” And it would be, eventually. Rory had to believe that. “You‟re
right—he has to be stopped, so make that call and then call me back, okay? And remember that I
love you, too, yeah?”

“Okay, I will, to both.” Annabelle took another shuddering breath. “And I‟m sorry—sorry that Art
hurt you, and that Daddy is a narrow-minded—”

“Shh! None of it‟s your fault, sis, so don‟t apologise. Do what needs to be done and call me back.”

“All right.”

Rory hung up the phone and just held Chance to him. He hoped he really was as strong as Chance
and Annabelle thought he was.

* * * *

“Oh fuck,” Rory moaned, his hips bucking as Chance swallowed his dick. He‟d been close to a
mess after the phone calls from Annabelle and a police detective by the name of Mark Maloney.
Recounting his experience with Art and the blurry memories, what there were of them, of the night
Art drugged him, had wrung Rory out. Chance had handled his Q and A session so calmly Rory had
felt a pinch of envy. Chance had pointed out that he‟d had years to come to terms with it, whereas
Rory hadn‟t had much time at all.

Chance scraped his teeth lightly up Rory‟s cock and Rory quit thinking about anything other than
his lover‟s mouth sucking him off like a pro. Quick flicks of Chance‟s tongue had Rory crying out

as his balls drew up tight. Two lube-slicked fingers slammed into his ass and every muscle in
Rory‟s body clenched as he came. Chance hummed his approval and slurped as he sucked and
swallowed, working his fingers fast and hard to loosen Rory‟s tight ring. Rory dug his heels and
fingers into the mattress, a keening noise ripping from his throat.

Chance let Rory‟s softened cock slip from his lips and pulled his fingers out. Rory didn‟t have time
to catch his breath before his legs were bent, the tops of his thighs pressed nearly to his chest and
Chance was sinking his prick so deep inside him that Rory thought he could taste the man. He tried
to pry his fingers loosely from the sheets, but Chance was slamming into him, hitting his prostate
with nearly every thrust and Rory couldn‟t think, couldn‟t get his body to do anything other than
writhe as he moaned.

His dick filled back up and he wanted to beg for Chance to touch him but he couldn‟t form the
words. Every time he opened his mouth to try, Chance thrust in hard enough to have him slide up
the bed. Rory finally managed to work his hands free and flung one up to brace himself against the
headboard while the other grasped his dick and started stroking himself furiously.

Chance‟s fingers dug into his thighs with a bruising strength that Rory loved. It sent heat skittering
from the base of his spine to his balls, then he was screaming as he came again, black dots dancing
behind his eyes, in front of his eyes—hell, he didn‟t know. He squeezed his ass hard and felt
Chance‟s cock swell as the man‟s head flung back.

A strangled yell came from Chance then Rory felt hot bursts of his lover‟s cum squirting into his
channel. Chance ground against Rory‟s ass as he shook with the force of his orgasm. He released
Rory‟s legs, and Rory let them flop down, sprawled wide open as he sat up enough to grab Chance
and pull his lover down on top of him.

Rory buried his nose in Chance‟s dark hair, breathing in the scent of shampoo, the faint tinge of
sweat, and that indefinable scent that was always Chance. He chuckled, thinking that if he and
Chance could ever find a way to bottle that scent, they would be two wealthy men. Chance stirred,
pushing himself up on one elbow to look down at him.

“What is so funny? I‟m not sure I like the way you‟re laughing right after we just had some shout-
down-the-walls sex.”

Rory tried to keep a straight face, but seriously failed. “„Shout-down-the-walls sex?‟ I think you
melted my brain, boss.”

Chance eyed him for a second then shook his head. “You can speak in sentences—and so can I.
We‟ll just have to try harder in a few minutes.”

“Now I know you lost some brain cells.” Rory slid his hand down Chance‟s back to cup a perfect,
taut ass cheek. “I just came twice; I‟ll need more than a few minutes until I can go another round.”

“Really?” Chance tucked his hips in, burying his prick deeper inside Rory. Rory‟s eyebrows flew
up as he felt Chance‟s erection bump against his gland. “So what were you laughing about?”
Chance moved his hips in a circular motion that had Rory‟s eyes trying to cross. And his dick
twitching. The things this man could do to him…

A pinch to his hip drew Rory‟s attention back to the question.

“Oh! Nothing bad, I swear.” And maybe he should have kept Chance dangling for a while but the
way that man could move his hips… Rory bit back a moan as Chance swiveled again. “Just that if
we could bottle your scent, we‟d be rich.”

Chance stilled and looked at Rory like he was nuts. “My scent?”

Rory nodded, enjoying the confused look on his lover‟s face. Actually, Chance looked like he
couldn‟t decide whether to be offended, confused, or amused. He pulled his dick almost all the way
out of Rory‟s channel and Rory slapped his hands down on both of Chance‟s butt cheeks, digging
his fingers into the firm flesh to hold the man in place.

“You smell really, really good.” Rory tried to hold back the smile at Chance‟s startled look. The
man had jumped when Rory slapped his ass, but that startled look was turning into something else
rapidly.

The gleam in Chance‟s eye, as well as a small grin on his full lips, made Rory think maybe he
shouldn‟t have smacked his lover‟s ass quite so hard.

“I just didn‟t want you to stop,” he offered weakly, excitement at the look on Chance‟s face
coursing through him.

“Oh really?” Chance reached down and twisted Rory‟s nipple ring hard enough that the pleasure-
pain made him gasp. Chance did it again to the other nipple, pulling his cock from Rory‟s body
when Rory‟s hands dropped down to clutch at the sheets.

“No,” Rory protested when Chance‟s cock left his body.

“Yes.” Chance moved and grabbed Rory. Before Rory knew what happened, he was flipped over
and Chance was pulling at his hips. Rory tucked his knees under himself and moaned when Chance
penetrated him and began slowly sliding his thick cock into his welcoming passage.

“Chance, please, fuck me already,” Rory pleaded, trying to work in more of Chance‟s prick. A
stinging slap to his ass didn‟t discourage Rory one bit. He tried to rock back and get more of his
lover inside him.

“Like that, huh?” Chance‟s voice was rough with desire. Rory nodded and another stinging slap
landed right on top of the spot the first one hit. He felt his cock leaking and glanced back as best he
could at Chance.

“Chance…” Rory almost growled it out. If the man didn‟t fuck him soon, Rory was going to—

A third stinging slap came down and Rory had to grip the base of his prick hard to keep from
coming. He felt Chance pulling back and heard his lover‟s swift intake of breath.

“Fuck, baby!” Chance‟s voice sounded nearly reverent.

Rory hissed as Chance‟s hands slid over the heated skin of his ass. He pushed his hips back when
the caresses stopped, wanting more of the soft touch. Instead, Chance covered his body, slipping his
hands under Rory‟s chest and giving both nipple rings a hard tug. Rory moaned and squeezed his
dick harder. Chance‟s hands slid up until they were gripping Rory‟s shoulders from the front.

“Better hold on,” Chance whispered in his ear.

Rory was going to ask what he should hold on to, but then Chance began fucking him just like he
needed and Rory forgot what he wanted to ask. The only thing that mattered was Chance, and him,
and the way they felt together.

Chapter Seventeen

Chance hung up the cell phone and stared at it, not really seeing a damn thing.

“Everything okay?”

Max‟s question startled Chance out of his stupor. He turned and looked at the wiry man and
watched the confusion dance across Max‟s face. Chance felt his smile spreading wide and he
nodded.

“Yeah, better than, really. Where‟s Rory at today?” He had news for his lover that would,
hopefully, vanquish that faint worried look that would creep up on the younger man every now and
then. Ever since they‟d talked to Detective Malone.

“Yeah, he‟s over in the North pasture.” Max gestured with his thumb over his shoulder. His eyes
sparkled as he winked at Chance. “Maybe I should stay home tonight.”

Chance shook his head. “No, you still better have your ass at the house for dinner.” He slapped Max
on the back as he passed the ranch hand. “I promise we‟ll behave.” Mostly, he added to himself.

“All right, I‟ll see ya then.”

Waving one hand at Max, Chance grabbed the reins to his gelding Zeus and quickly mounted. He
took off, giving Zeus his head and letting the quarter horse run.

Chance pushed his hat down farther then gripped the reins again with both hands, enjoying the hard
ride.

He brought the gelding up to a walk when they reached the North pasture, patting the horse‟s
sweaty neck and praising him for being such a good boy. Rory was waiting for him by the gate, and
Chance sidled Zeus up to it so he could lean over and plant a fast kiss on his lover‟s lips.

“Something wrong?” Rory studied him intently for a few seconds before he dismounted and pulled
the gate open.

Zeus nickered and walked through the gate. Chance slid from the saddle and took both horses‟
reins, looping them over a couple of posts. He turned and nearly smacked into Rory. The worry in
his lover‟s blue eyes made Chance feel like shit for not answering sooner.

“No, nothing‟s wrong.” He leant in and tipped his head up for another kiss. Rory‟s strong arms
wrapped around him and it felt so right that Chance wanted to purr. Instead, he stroked the roof of
Rory‟s mouth with his tongue, revelling in the shudder that rocked through his lover‟s body.
Chance grabbed Rory‟s biceps and held on tight.

Rory‟s hands dipped down to cup Chance‟s ass and pull him up so that their dicks rubbed together.
Chance was pretty sure he did purr then, twining his tongue with Rory‟s as they moved against each
other.

When Rory lifted his head, his lips were red and puffy, slicked with moisture from the kiss. His
heavy-lidded gaze had Chance‟s cock pushing hard against his zipper. Chance reached down and
tried to adjust himself into a less painful spot. He glanced up to see those red lips quirking up in a
grin.

“So you just came out here to say hello?” The deep timbre of his lover‟s voice ensured there was no
comfortable position in which Chance could rearrange his dick.

“Actually,”—Chance rubbed the ball of his hand over his cock, trying to ease the discomfort—“I
came to tell you some good news.”

“And what‟s that?” Rory‟s hand batted Chance‟s aside. He stroked over the denim-clad erection and
Chance‟s thoughts scattered.

“No, baby, I can‟t think when you‟re doing that.” Chance pulled Rory‟s hand away. Rory‟s dark
gaze met Chance‟s again.

“Art‟s pleading guilty.” Chance watched as Rory processed the news. “So, there‟s no trial. It was
part of a plea deal, since they have so much on him. He kept records…” Chance shut up. He didn‟t
want to get into detail about just how much proof the prosecutor had on Art.

Rory stepped back, keeping a hand on Chance‟s hip. The bobbing of his Adam‟s apple told Chance
his lover was struggling with some emotion, but he wasn‟t sure if it was a happy one or not.

“How long?” Rory finally managed to get out.

“He‟ll be lucky to get out before he dies in there.” Chance trailed a finger down Rory‟s cheek then
rested it on the younger man‟s chest. Rory nodded and looked down. He took a few deep breaths
before he looked at Chance.

“So that‟s it, right? We don‟t have to go in for any more interviews and testimonies, nothing? It‟s
done?” The hope shining in Rory‟s eyes made Chance‟s heart pinch.

“Yeah.” He stroked his lover‟s chest, wanting nothing more than to take the man home. “It‟s done.”

Rory yipped and the next thing Chance knew, he was being lifted and spun around as Rory‟s
laughter rang out. His feet touched the ground and Rory pulled him in for a hard hug.

“Thank God,” Rory murmured over and over in Chance‟s ear.

Chance smoothed his hands in circles over his lover‟s back. He could almost feel the coiled tension
leaving Rory‟s body.

“I would have done what needed doing, but God, I didn‟t want to, you know?” Rory leant back and
looked at him. “Does that mean I‟m a piece of shit?”

Chance shook Rory a bit. “No! Who the hell would look forward to something like that?” He
growled and had to suppress a shudder himself. “And for a gay man to have to do it? We both knew
it would probably get ugly. No way to look forward to that.”

Rory‟s gaze travelled up and down the length of Chance‟s body. His erection, which had begun to
soften, perked right back up. He couldn‟t help but notice Rory was rather perky, too.

Chance pushed Rory up against the gate and quickly unbuckled his lover‟s belt. With a tug, he
unbuttoned and unzipped the tight jeans. He shoved his hands under Rory‟s underwear and pushed
them and the jeans down low enough to free his leaking dick. Chance couldn‟t look away from the
pre cum that was smeared across his lover‟s cock head.

“Slight change in plans.” Chance dropped to his knees and grabbed the gate on either side of Rory‟s
hips. He swiped his tongue over the wet spongy head, dipping into the slit. Rory‟s moan echoed his
own as Chance sucked the tip into his mouth, trying to gather every bit of the slightly salty liquid.

“Chance, oh shit!” Rory‟s hands knocked off Chance‟s hat and buried into his hair, gripping almost
painfully.

Chance nodded and let Rory take control, fucking into Chance‟s mouth in shallow strokes at first.
Chance reached down and worked at his own belt and jeans, moaning when he freed his prick and
the pressure on that tender skin let up.

Rory began pumping his hips faster, his strokes deepening though not reaching Chance‟s throat.

When Chance felt Rory‟s body tensing up and his thrusts becoming erratic, he grabbed Rory‟s
hands and tugged. Rory let go and grumbled when Chance let Rory‟s dick slip from his mouth with
a slurping noise. Chance rose, pressing his body hard against his lover‟s. He went to work a hand
between them. Rory must have had the same idea, because their fingers tangled together before they
worked it out, their hands gripping and holding their dicks together. The found a smooth, easy
rhythm and Rory‟s other hand latched on to the back of Chance‟s neck, pulling him in for a kiss that
felt like more teeth than tongue.

Rory‟s palm swiped over the head of their cocks and Chance felt his balls snug close to his body.
He broke their kiss and brought his other hand up under Rory‟s shirt to tug at his lover‟s nipple
ring. A couple of twists and Rory was groaning as wet heat splashed between them. Rory‟s hand
faltered and Chance let go of the nipple ring long enough to clasp both hands to Rory‟s and
encourage him to stroke.

A quick pump and Chance was trying not to yell, trying to remember not to spook the horses or
cattle as his cock pulsed and bursts of semen erupted, mixing with Rory‟s.

A snort and a nicker caught their attention. Rory and Chance turned their heads and found Rama
and Zeus looking at them.

“Sorry, didn‟t mean to put on a show.” Chance stepped back and did the best he could to get the
spunk off of him before tucking his parts back in his jeans.

“I feel like a perv,” Rory muttered, swiping at the sticky mess on his clothes and skin.

Chance peeked over his shoulder then couldn‟t bite back his grin as he faced Rory again. “Well, if
that makes you feel like a perv, you sure don‟t want to look up.”

Of course, Rory‟s head shot up. “What do you—oh fuck!”

Chance snickered as Rory‟s eyes widened. Yes, sometimes cattle were curious critters. He turned
around and reached out to a particularly inquisitive heifer, careful not to let her slobber all over his
hand.

“Go on, now, before you embarrass my partner to death!” Chance gently shooed the cattle back
before facing Rory again. “Feel better now? Less perv-y?”

Rory gave him a considering look. “I‟ve decided that I‟m not the perv here.”

“Oh really?” Chance worked his eyebrow up as far as he could get it. “Because you could have said
no at any time.”

“Yeah, right!” Rory rolled his eyes as he finished buckling his belt. “Like I could—or would—ever
say no to you!” He walked over and slapped Chance on the ass. “I meant the cattle and our not-so-
noble steeds were the pervs.”

Chance rubbed his butt cheek and considered whether he should get revenge now or later.
“Definitely later.” When he had his man naked and pleading beneath him.

“Definitely later what?” Rory stopped and looked at him.

The only answer Chance gave him was a slow smile that had his lover drawing a stuttering breath.

“Oh. Later.” Rory gave Chance a slow smile of his own. “I look forward to „definitely later‟. And if
you want it to be definitely sooner, you can hang around and help me finish up here.”

“Sounds like a plan.” A very excellent plan since they would be having a guest for dinner and he
had promised they would behave. Mostly.

Chance swung up in to the saddle and grinned as he took in his land and cattle. Those things made
him happy, but they couldn‟t compare to the man riding by his side. Rory flashed him a bright
smile, and Chance knew that nothing or no one ever would.

Epilogue

Rory took a few minutes to watch Chance as his lover herded the cattle into the pasture. The man
was pure magic on horseback, all long, sleek muscle that moved with the powerful horse as if the
animal was an extension of himself. Rory had plenty of time to admire Chance‟s moves—ever since
the day Chance had sought him out in the North pasture, Chance spent at least part of each day
working with him.

He‟d learned a lot watching his lover, the main thing being that Chance was an honest, hard-
working man with many admirable qualities. Rory had thought it impossible to feel any stronger for
the man than he did, but he‟d been proven wrong, day after day.

Max‟s voice shattered the tranquil moment. “Rory, tell Chance to pick up his damn handset!”

Rory jerked his off his belt and pressed the button down. “Something wrong, Max? Chance is
finishing up moving the cattle.”

Max didn‟t even bother to try to hide his snort of laughter. “Ain‟t nothing wrong, just got somebody
here wanting a job—and Chance might be done faster if ye‟d stop gawking at the man and help
him!”

Now how the hell did Max know he was gawking? “Max, I am not—”

“Sure ya are! Seen ya do it often enough. Or he‟s gawking while you‟re working. Takes twice as
long for the two of ye to get anything done.” The teasing note in Max‟s voice took the sting from
his words.

“Well, do you blame me for gawking?” Rory let his gaze settle back on his lover.

“I ain‟t getting into that, boy.” Max laughed.

Rory heard a voice in the background but couldn‟t make out what was being said. Whoever their
want-to-be employee was, he just got an earful. If he hadn‟t known Rory and Chance were gay, he
surely did now.

“Just get the boss and get yerselves up here.”

“You know we aren‟t ready to hire anyone else yet,” Rory pointed out, but he did start edging Rama
over towards Chance and Zeus.

“Then you and Chance can be the people who send this one on their way. Ain‟t gonna be me.”

Rory clipped the handset back to his belt and started working the herd with Chance. He would have
been helping by now, anyway, Rory thought. It wasn‟t his fault Chance looked so damned good on
horseback—or on his back, period. Oh hell, Rory thought Chance looked good any which way he
was.

“Max wants us up at the house.” Rory had to raise his voice to be heard over the racket of the cattle.
“Says someone wants a job and he isn‟t going to be the one to tell them no.”

Chance frowned as he worked the last bit of the cattle through the gate. “Now why would he have a
problem telling someone no? He‟s done it before.”

Rory hopped down from Rama and grabbed the gate, jogging to close it quickly before he slid the
bar that held it shut in place.

“That‟s what I‟m wondering,” Rory confessed as he pulled himself back up into the saddle. He
looked at Chance and shrugged. “Whoever it is, Max didn‟t bother to hide the fact that we‟re
together. He kept giving me shit about gawking at you.”

“You do gawk at me quite a bit.” Chance leant over the saddle horn and leered.

Rory leered right back. “About as much as you gawk at me, lover.”

They both laughed and turned their horses towards the ranch, teasing and flirting in their normal
way. Rory was watching Chance, telling his lover about what improvements he thought they should
make with their breeding stock, when Chance pulled Zeus up short and grunted.

“Don‟t think we‟re gonna send this one packing.” Chance was looking in the direction of the house.

Rory followed his lover‟s gaze and let out a whoop when he saw who was there looking for a job.
He tucked his heels into Rama‟s sides and took off, his eyes drawn to the pretty blonde standing on
the porch with Max.

Annabelle ran down the porch steps and Rory leapt off Rama before the gelding had come to a full
stop. He had enough time to fling his arms open then he was holding his sister, and rocking gently
from side to side. He felt a tug on the reins and opened his eyes enough to see Max trying to take
Rama for him. Rory let go of the reins and lifted Annabelle, spinning her around until she squealed
with laughter.

“Put me down!” Annabelle playfully swatted Rory on the shoulder. “I want to meet your man.” She
cut her eyes in Chance‟s direction. “Damn, brother, he is hot!”

Rory turned his head and looked at the sexy-as-fuck man sitting right where he‟d reined Zeus in a
few minutes ago. The brim of his black Stetson cast a shadow over most of his face, but there was
no hiding the fact Chance was a handsome man—and kind enough to hang back and give Rory and
Annabelle as much privacy as he could.

“God, Rory, you look like you just melted inside.”

Rory glanced at Annabelle and found her studying him. “Why wouldn‟t I? He‟s…he‟s everything.”

Annabelle‟s eyes had a teary sheen to them, but she blinked furiously and gave Rory a quick hug.
“Then tell your everything to get his butt over here so I can finally meet him in person.”

Rory smiled at Chance and gestured him over. “You want to tell me why you‟re here looking for a
job, Annabelle?”

“Can I tell you once your sexy boss gets over here?”

Rory reached over and poked his sister in the ribs. “He‟s gay, sis, and mine.”

Annabelle sighed and stuck her tongue out at Rory. “Doesn‟t mean he isn‟t sexy.”

Rory watched the blush sweep over Chance‟s cheekbones and poked his sister again. “Doesn‟t
mean he‟s deaf, either.”

“Oops.” Annabelle walked over to Chance before he reined Zeus to a stop. “Sorry if I embarrassed
you, but he is my brother—and you are sexy. And I‟m Annabelle, as I‟m sure you figured out.”

The saddle creaked as Chance leant down and clasped Annabelle‟s hand. “Yes ma‟am. Chance
Galloway.”

Rory wondered if the „yes ma‟am‟ was an agreement that she had embarrassed him or an admission
that he knew who she was. He met Chance‟s amused gaze and decided it was both.

“Here, boss, let me take Zeus so ya can sit down and tell this cowgirl how ya ain‟t hiring.” Max
grinned up at Chance.

“You could have mentioned the person enquiring was Annabelle.” Rory‟s lips quirked as Max
shook his head.

“Where‟s the fun in that? „Sides, you two shoulda been done moving them cattle a good while ago.”

Chance‟s brow furrowed. “Max, who writes out your paycheque? And we weren‟t—”

“Um, Chance—” Rory wasn‟t sure what was fixing to come out of his lover‟s mouth.

“As I was saying, I‟ve got the biggest smartasses in the world working for me. And we weren‟t
doing anything!” Chance swung down from the horse and handed over the reins.

“„Course not.” Max chuckled and led Zeus off.

“You ready to tell us what happened?” Rory checked his sister over thoroughly. Their father had
never struck her before, but he‟d never been as hateful as he‟d become in the past year or so.

“I couldn‟t take listening to him anymore, Rory.” Annabelle shrugged. “He‟s full of so much hate
and anger, and I‟m not going to hide the fact that you‟re my brother and I love you. If that means he
sells the Mossy G, well…”

“You love that ranch, sis. We‟ll figure out something.” Rory stopped because Annabelle was
already shaking her head.

“That‟s just a place, Rory. All the good memories are in here, and here.” Annabelle tapped her head
first then her heart.

“You‟re so hired,” Chance‟s deep voice cut through the silence.

Who‟d have known all those months ago that the instant and irresistible pull he‟d felt for one nearly
panicked man in a club would lead to this? Fate had brought them together, not once but twice.
They‟d worked out their differences and faced things that might have forced other people apart, but
had only served to bring them closer together.

Now, Rory watched as Chance looped his arm through Annabelle‟s. He‟d thought his life was
complete before, but with Annabelle here, his heart was overflowing. Family, friends, and the love
of not only a good man, but the best man. Rory felt like he was living a fairy tale—and that was
more than okay, because he knew that, even though there were sure to be a few bumps along the
way, he and Chance would have their happily ever after.

About the Author

A native Texan, Bailey spends her days spinning stories around in her head, which has contributed
to more than one incident of tripping over her own feet. Evenings are resounds for pounding away
at the keyboard, as are the early morning hours. Sleep? Doesn‟t happen much. Writing is too much
fun, and there are too many characters bouncing about, tapping on Bailey‟s brain, demanding to be
let out.

Caffeine and chocolate are permanent fixtures in Bailey‟s office and are never far from hand at any
given time. Removing either of those necessities from Bailey‟s presence can result in what is known
as A Very, Very Scary Bailey and is not advised under any circumstances.

Email:

[e-mail]

Bailey loves to hear from readers. You can find her contact information, website and author
biography at

http://www.total-e-bound.com

.

Also by Bailey Bradford

Southern Spirits: Wait Until Dawn

Southern Spirits: All of the Voices

Southern Spirits: When the Dead Speak

Southern Spirits: A Subtle Breeze

Southwestern Shifters: Reckless

Southwestern Shifters: Relentless

Southwestern Shifters: Rescued

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