Page 31 of Down in Flames

“Ugh.”

His obvious disgust had West laughing, draining away the last of his nerves. He curled one hand around the back of Michael’s neck, and a little thrill of power zipped through him when Michael allowed it. He tugged until their mouths were a scant breath apart. Michael’s eyes gleamed, and his hot breath gusted across West’s lips like a preview of his kiss.

“It’s funny,” West mused, “I spent so much time imagining what the two of us would be like in bed. Crazy, impossible stuff. But I never once dreamed that you would be the one who’d been with more men. You seem so…”

“Straight?”

“Straight-edged, maybe,” West corrected, shrugging lamely.

“Whatever I am now, it was a lifetime of mistakes that made me this way. Can’t say I’m sorry, though. Not when it led me here.” Michael took him by the hand and tugged. “Come on.”

“Where are we going?” West asked, lacing their fingers and following obediently.

Michael’s grin flashed in the moonlight. “I’ve got a haystack with your name on it.”

“What about Abby?” He stopped dead and glanced back toward the quiet house.

The porch lamp glowed peacefully, a soothing sentinel guarding the animals as they bedded down for the night.

Michael chuckled and pulled a portable two-way radio from his back pocket. “Ain’t nothing more independent than a cowgirl. She’s used to waking up and finding me all over the property. All she’s got to do is click the button and she’s got me.”

“Helps you keep track of her, too,” West murmured, warmed by the pride in Michael’s tone every time he spoke of his little girl.

Michael gave a nod and began tugging him once more toward the newly rebuilt hay barn. “They’re satellite, so she’s got reception almost anywhere on our property. I bought ‘em after that day when you two got lost up on the mountain. She’s feisty and adventurous, like her mother, and I don’t want to crush that. But I can’t lose anyone else I care about. This way she gets her freedom, but I’m not going out of my mind with worry.”

West squeezed his hand. “You’re a good man, Michael Whittaker.”

“So are you, West Owens.” Michael pulled him into the barn, and he didn’t stop reeling until West was in his arms. Dragging one knuckle along the edge of West’s cheek, he added, “It kills me that you think no one notices.”

“Aw, shucks,” West muttered awkwardly, but Michael saved him from further discomfort by sealing his mouth with a kiss.

West was tempted to shut his eyes, but he didn’t. He was afraid it would feel too much like his fantasies, an impossible daydream that was meant for better men than himself. A slip of moonlight leaked through a gap in the door, illuminating the stacks of baled hay. The sweet scent of alfalfa and fresh sawdust mingled in his nose, and beneath that, the salty, masculine scent of Michael’s skin. Michael’s lashes were boyishly long, casting little shadows over the tops of his cheeks, but just as West noticed, those lashes swept open.

It was intense, kissing a man while looking into his eyes. There was nowhere to hide, no way to lose himself in the plush warmth of his mouth without being aware of precisely who he was kissing. Michael. He was kissing Michael. He had Michael’s tongue in his mouth, and when he gave an explorative suck, it was Michael's breath that hitched.

West knew the heat in his gaze was because of him, but he couldn't bring himself to fully believe it. Men like Michael Whittaker didn't fall for nobodies like him.

“This is a dream.” His whisper was lost in Michael’s mouth. “Things like this don’t happen to me.”

A deep chuckle rumbled through Michael's chest. “They do now.”

Slowly, without West noticing, he'd been backed into the nearest haystack. With firm pressure, Michael coaxed him down onto one of the bales. He sat with a graceless thud, pulling on Michael's shoulders to avoid breaking their kiss. Michael loomed over him, one knee braced on the bale beside West’s hip, clutching the back of his skull as he plundered his mouth.

West scrabbled at the hem of Michael’s shirt, slipping his hands beneath the warm cotton to the even hotter skin beneath. His body was hard and packed with muscle. West couldn’t stop touching him, exploring the ridges of his abs and the pebbled peaks of his nipples.

Michael hissed through his teeth.

“Sensitive?” West asked, pulling away only far enough to admire the way Michael’s shoulders flexed as he peeled his shirt over his head.

“Put your mouth on me and find out,” Michael growled, kissing him hard.

It was like West had been waiting his whole life for permission. He was on him in a heartbeat, moaning as he tasted his skin for the first time. He toyed with one hard nipple, teasing with the edge of his teeth then soothing the sting away with the tip of his tongue.

“God, it’s been a long time,” Michael groaned. His head fell back, and West crawled up his body to taste the exposed column of his throat.

He kissed the soft, vulnerable pulse beneath his jaw and asked, “How long?”

“Not since Mary.”