“What are you doing?” Grant asked, though the words came out breathless and rough, as he stared into Lane’s dark, dark brown eyes.
“What do you think I’m doing?”
“Hell if I know,” Grant lied. He knew exactly what Lane was doing and he’d be damned if he knew how to stop him, but that was only because he didn’t want to stop him. Grant had dreamed about this moment, but he’d never thought it would actually happen.
Not with Lane. Not like this anyway.
Lane’s chest was hard beneath his palms, his hands hot against the backs of his, and Grant found it rather difficult to breathe.
He hadn’t had that much beer, damn it.
“Man, quit fucking with me,” Grant bellowed, once again trying to push Lane away, pretending that he had no idea what was about to happen in three… two… one…
Oh, goddamn!
The instant Lane’s mouth touched his, Grant lost all ability to shove him away; instead, he was reaching up, grasping Lane’s hair in his fist and pulling him against him as the kiss exploded. Tongues, teeth, hands…
“Holy fuck,” Lane mumbled long seconds later when he pulled back, looking directly into Grant’s eyes before his mouth slammed into his once more.
Grant’s entire body went hot, his cock hardening. And when Lane pushed up against him, successfully pinning Grant between the counter and his massive body, he was at a loss. The only thing he could do was kiss this man.
Kiss him and pray like hell that what they were doing wasn’t the stupidest thing either of them had ever done.
???????
To put it simply, Lane was shocked.
For one, he’d dreamed of this moment for months, never actually believing they would ever get to this point although they’d been doing some strange dance for about that long. Despite Grant’s attempt to hide his desire, Lane had felt the heat of Grant’s stare more than once.
And now, Grant had his hands in Lane’s hair, pulling him closer while their tongues played hockey, dueling for control. Lane couldn’t get enough of him. Grant tasted like beer and sex and – holy fuck – he wanted more.
With ease, Lane managed to spin them so that he was the one against the counter and Grant was in front of him. Holding him near while Grant continued to pull on his hair, Lane snaked his hand between their bodies and made quick work of releasing the button on Grant’s jeans. Within seconds, he had the zipper down and Grant’s jeans around his thighs. Oh, no, he wasn’t going to let this moment go. Not if he had any say in the matter.
When Grant groaned, Lane wrapped his fingers around his thick cock, firmly gripping him. Just enough to let him know who was in control. Not that Lane had much control left. Not after tonight.
For nearly two hours, they’d sat in the living room laughing at the television while Grant had tried his best to ignore Lane at every turn. Lane knew how it worked, he knew what to expect from Grant, because the man wasn’t going to outwardly pursue him, even if Lane begged. Yet here they were and his head was about to explode because he was touching Grant, kissing him.
Fuck. It was better than he anticipated.
“Holy shit,” Grant moaned as he pulled back, his attention immediately turning to where Lane was stroking him slowly.
“Does it feel good?”
“Yeah,” Grant breathed roughly. “Too good.”
“And to think you’ve been avoiding this. Avoiding me.”
Lane didn’t need Grant to admit it, he already knew the truth. But he’d promised himself that if they ever got to this point, he wouldn’t let the moment pass him by.
Something caught his eye and Lane looked up to see…
Christ. There in the doorway – behind Grant – was Gracie Lambert. She was staring at them, clearly mesmerized to the point she didn’t realize Lane knew she was there.
What he wouldn’t give for her to take a chance and erase the twenty or so feet that stood between her and pleasure the likes of which none of them had ever known. But he knew Gracie. She wasn’t going to act on any impulse; no matter how tempting the urge might be. She had been blowing them off since day one, and Lane figured that if she had her way, she’d continue to do so until hell froze over.
“Lane,” Grant moaned, his head falling back as Lane continued to stroke him.
“I want to taste you,” Lane admitted, his eyes still locked on Gracie, but she wasn’t looking up at him. She was completely unaware that he was watching her, which made it that much hotter.
Grant didn’t tell him no. He didn’t try to pull away and fuck it all, Lane just wanted to take him in his mouth and blow his mind. Something to ease the pressure in hopes that Grant would see that there was something between them even if he were scared to admit it.
Lane forced Grant back a couple of steps, enough to give him room to go to his knees on the worn linoleum floor. Looking up at Grant, Lane continued to stroke him while the cowboy watched, his ocean blue eyes glazed with desire.
With ease, he darted his tongue out and lapped at the bead of pre-cum slicking the head of Grant’s engorged cock. Another growl from Grant, and Lane sucked him fully into his mouth, their eyes still locked together.
Although he wasn’t looking directly at her, Lane could still feel Gracie watching them. It wasn’t that he needed any damned encouragement because shit, Grant was more than enough to make Lane hot, but he would admit that knowing the woman was standing there, probably heating up nicely from the free show going on before her, didn’t hurt.
Grant’s strong hand slid into Lane’s hair, holding him firmly as Lane continued to suck him deep and then retreat. Over and over, he continued to lave Grant’s dick while he fondled Grant’s balls with one hand.
“God, Lane. Fuck. I’ve wanted you to do this for a long damn time.”
Lane didn’t comment. He just sucked harder, deeper, faster.
“Fuck yes,” Grant groaned, his hand clutching Lane’s hair painfully tight, sending shards of electricity through his scalp. “God, don’t stop. Don’t ever fucking stop.”
Grant didn’t have to worry there. Lane had wanted to get his hands on Grant for a long damn time. He also wanted to get his hands on the sweet cowgirl still watching them from the shadows of the front porch. He’d openly admitted to the latter, but never had he out and out admitted the intensity of his desire for Grant.
Not until tonight.
“God damn,” Grant howled. “You’re gonna make me come. Fuck. You’re gonna…”
That’s exactly what Lane was going for. At least for tonight. Tonight was about Grant.
And the sexy cowgirl who might not yet realize just what she’d gotten herself into.
Chapter One
“I don’t give a damn what time he said he’d be here. I fuc–” Grace Lambert slammed her mouth closed, shutting down her own tirade before it was too late. As it was, she had…
“Abigail Grace Lambert! Watch your damn mouth!”
Yep, she’d gone and done it now. Pissing off her pop first thing in the morning probably wasn’t the best way to start the day. In fact, she usually preferred a little caffeine before he chewed her a new one.
Probably to avoid her father’s wrath, Casey – one of the wranglers who helped out in the kitchen each morning – hauled ass out the back door, the screen slamming shut behind him. Lucky bastard. Grace added “Pay Casey back for bailing” to her mental list of things to
do today as she turned back to her father who’d puffed up like a bullfrog, getting ready to lay into her a little more.
“I did, Daddy!” she exclaimed before he could continue. Lowering her voice about ten decibels, she followed up with, “Sorry.”
“What the hell’s goin’ on in here?”
The back door swung open and following that dark, rich Texas twang was none other than the bane of her existence, Grant Kingsley, Dead Heat Ranch’s pain in the ass head foreman. He looked at Grace then back out the door probably at Casey running full out toward the bunkhouse to find the cook who apparently thought he was on vacation.
“Watch your mouth, Kingsley,” Grace muttered beneath her breath as she poured her coffee, purposely not making eye contact. It was bad enough that the mere sight of him made her blush. Especially after… She had things to do, and the first thing on her agenda was to get away from Grant as soon as possible because she damn sure didn’t have time to think about what she saw last Friday night.
“Yes, ma’am,” Grant said in that silky drawl, his mouth much too close to her ear as he passed by her, using his quest for coffee as his excuse to touch her.
Grace did her damnedest to hide her unwelcome reaction to the cowboy who’d been working for her family’s ranch for more years than she had been. “Where’s Lane?” she asked, pretending she hadn’t noticed how close he was.
“Haven’t seen him yet this mornin’,” Grant answered easily as he reached for a coffee cup in the cabinet above Grace’s head. “You lookin’ for him? I can see if I can locate him for you.”
Holding her own cup with both hands, because yes, they were trembling slightly, she eased out from between the tall cowboy and the unyielding counter to join her father at the kitchen table. “Nope. Just hadn’t seen him yet.” And wanted to make sure I didn’t run into him too, she thought to herself.