And still, Cole couldn’t make himself pull away from the warm stomach and hair that smelled of their coupling.
He hated himself.
When Ned raised his arms in silent question, giving Cole the mercy of silence, Cole crawled on top of him and slid his head into the noose made of warm, strong arms. If he only could avoid the consequences of what he’d just done—die in Ned’s embrace with his lips tasting of bitter semen, and never experience the inevitable fallout.
For now, he let himself dream, and the soft whisper of Ned’s breath lulled him to sleep while scents of burning wood and spunk sang to him with their comfort.
A loud slam tore Cole out of the dreamlike afterglow, and he tried to scramble out of Ned’s embrace, waking up the moment a gust of cold air prickled his back, but with Ned’s wrists tied, they ended up stuck like a stud dog and his bitch.
Cole’s vision filled with a swarm of tiny, shimmering dots, and by the time he glanced over the shoulder, toward the open door and the dark silhouette standing in pale light, his entire body pulsed with discomfort.
Lars’s handsome face twisted into a scowl as he tossed a framed photograph onto the floor.
He shut the door before Dog could follow him into the cabin. “I was gonna ask about this fucking photograph, but now I really have questions!”
The silence that followed was like an ice wall, but Cole couldn’t think and pulled his pants up as soon as he managed to back out of Ned’s embrace. He knew what picture Lars meant without even looking at it. His own was in the saddlebag, in a box he never pulled out when someone else was around, but he’d hidden the one from Ned’s mantelpiece in the barn. That was where Lars must have gone to have a drink.
Stiff in the shoulders, he looked at Ned who scrambled to cover himself with a blanket, still flushed and sweaty from their coupling, and with his pants pooled around the ankles. Cole spun around to face his partner. “I didn’t plan this.”
“So what the fuck happened, huh? You missed gut-poking? Is that it?” Lars approached Cole with fast strides and pushed at his chest. “We fuck our prisoners now? He looks passable. I might as well plow his mouth if you’re denying me!” He reached for the buttons of his pants to make his point.
Something squeezed Cole’s neck, and he shoved Lars away from Ned, gravitating toward the chair where he’d hung his gun belt. He felt naked without it, and while Lars was a friend, he was also a man like any other, and might need the incentive of bullets aimed toward his feet if passion pushed him beyond reason.
“You’re not gonna do any such thing.”
“Why the hell not? You told me he was the rat who sold out your gang, but that photograph tells a different story! Liar!” Lars yelled, bristling by the second. The smell of whisky hit Cole, telling him Lars’s temper would only get worse if not curbed.
“So we have a past, and I might have lost my cool here, but you and I both fuck other men all the time, so what’s the big deal?” Cole tried, hoping that this appeal to their routine would calm Lars somewhat, but his pale skin only got redder.
“The deal is that you lied to me about this maggot, and stopped sucking me since he came into the picture. And now I catch you with your pants down? Have you been riding him all this time?” Lars pushed Cole away again, and he growled like a dog. “He’s a mark, and we have equal rights to him, so I get to fuck him too!”
“Well, he doesn’t want you, so step away before I knock out your precious teeth,” Cole said, grabbing Lars by the arm.
“Stop pushing him!” Ned demanded, even though he was chained by the neck and in no position to make threats. Like a cornered wolf, Ned snarled in warning, but Lars shoved at Cole again. And again.
“Do I look like I care what he wants? He’ll hold his mouth open once I put a bullet in his knee.”
Frost lined Cole’s stomach. Violence had been a part of his life since he could remember, but it was one thing to beat a man, and quite another to force oneself on him. In all the time he’d known Lars, Cole thought he’d seen him for who he was, but despite his mean temper and boastful nature, Lars had never revealed himself as one who helped himself to unwilling bodies. A veil was being torn from Cole’s eyes, and he didn’t like what he saw.
“I won’t let you do that. Now step away. We’ll talk outside.”
“No! I’ve had it! I don’t even care about the bounty for him anymore! He’s a dog, and I’ll put him down like one!”