02-Let It Ride (13 page)

Eric woke to the sound of merrily chirping birds, a sated happiness he wasn’t sure he’d ever felt, and a big, warm body wrapped around him like a blanket. The smile that spread across his face did so without any effort on his part. He opened his eyes. Their foreheads were close enough for Bridge’s bangs to tickle his brow, but the hair was soft, and he didn’t want to move a single muscle for fear of disturbing the moment. Long, sooty lashes formed crescents on high cheekbones. Bridge’s lips were parted slightly, a touch swollen from the frenetic kissing the night before, and there was a hint of whisker burn on his chin. He didn’t seem to have as much facial hair, or hair elsewhere, as Eric did. He lowered his gaze. Bridge’s chest was smooth, save for a few golden hairs that gathered in a sunny swirl around his rose-colored nipples. Faint freckles scattered over otherwise unblemished pale skin, and Eric’s mouth watered with the desire to lick every inch of him.

He couldn’t see any more of the man without disturbing him. Both of the stalwart cowboy’s arms were wrapped around him, holding him close. One muscular leg was draped over his hip and hooked behind his thigh. His leg was tucked between Bridge’s legs, his knee high enough that he could just feel the tickle of fine hairs on Bridge’s heavy balls at the apex of those long legs.

Hard silken skin nudged at his groin, drawing an answering throb from his cock as it began to rise, but he held himself still. Bridge had to set the pace for their sexual explorations—if there would even be more after last night. Part of him wanted Bridge to wake up and say,
Well, that was fun but maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all
. Things would be easier that way. Then Eric could relax back into the easy friendship he’d found with this tight band of cowboys, and Bridge would never have an opportunity to discover whatever was inside Eric that made him unworthy of truly belonging. But another part of him, the part that longed for something he’d given up on, needed more of the way Bridge had looked at him last night—with so much open abandon and trust and desire—and craved the power to make Bridge squirm and his breath catch and his body tremble in pleasure. That had been heady, dangerous, and was the stuff that would get him in big trouble if he didn’t keep things in perspective. If he let his guard down, he’d fall hard and fast. He knew he’d never be able to recover from Bridge walking away from him like everyone else had.

But this time might be different.

He quickly shot that hopeful little voice down. It never won.

He lifted his gaze to find an open pair of warm, comforting eyes staring at him intently. No panic at what they’d done lurked in the depths, no regret. Just a naked hunger that made his heart beat faster while sending a little trickle of fear snaking into his veins.

A teasing smile tipped up the edges of Bridge’s mouth, and he rolled his hips, pressing a now rock-hard erection against Eric’s. Then Bridge leaned forward and kissed him, slow and lazy and familiar, like they’d been waking up side by side for years instead of for the first time. The kind of kiss Eric had dreamed of but had not dared hope for. Now that he’d had a taste, he didn’t know if he could keep things as detached as he needed in order to protect himself, but he did know going back to the way things were before last night wasn’t ever going to happen.

Bridge pulled back and kissed the tip of Eric’s nose. “What do you say we start the day right?” His voice was deeper than usual and rough with sleep.

Eric stared into that eager, handsome face and knew there was no way he could say no, just as he knew Bridge would soon realize Eric wasn’t what he really wanted and move on. If Eric kept that in the front of his mind, then he could enjoy this gift for what it was.

Eric buried the chatter in his head and smiled. “Good call, I say.” He slid a hand between them, closed it around both of their cocks, and stroked them as one. Slow, firm, gently squeezing the heads together.

“Fuck, that feels good.” Bridge’s eyelids fluttered, but his gaze remained locked on Eric’s, and the hand resting on Eric’s hip tightened.

“Mm-hmm.”

Bridge rocked into his grip, and Eric marveled at how well they fit together, how frighteningly comfortable being here like this felt. He increased the speed of his strokes, and Bridge thrust harder. Hot breath gusted over his cheek in fast, harsh pants, and he knew this wasn’t going to be a leisurely ride but a balls-out race to the finish line. His own breath scraped and clawed its way out, and the groans and growls that lingered in the back of his throat were echoed by the man whose dark eyes he could not pull away from.

“Come with,” Bridge whispered, and then a large hand closed over Eric’s and together the beat sped up as they both charged for the exit gate, exploding out into the wild as one. Bridge’s mouth fell open in a silent yell, and Eric pressed his forehead to Bridge’s, finally forcing that long, intense stare into submission.

Eric slipped his hand out from under Bridge’s and rolled his hips back, needing a little space for his now overly sensitive skin. Bridge kissed him and then flopped onto his back, a satisfied smile gracing his face, and Eric couldn’t look away.

Bridge turned his head, and a mischievous glint sparkled in his eyes. Before Eric could question what the man was up to, or get out of striking range, Bridge wiped his hand on Eric’s navel, spreading cool, sticky cum onto his skin.

“Hey!” Eric slapped the offending hand away as hearty laughter danced around him. He fought not to laugh, but it was a losing battle. “Ass,” he teased.

“Good thing we don’t have to sleep here again tonight,” Bridge said, the light in his eyes mesmerizing. “You’ve made a helluva mess of these sheets.”

“Me?” Eric huffed, keeping his tone playful even as his mind latched onto the
we
and began a little panic dance in the background.
Sex, Eric
, he scolded himself.
Just sex.

Bridge watched him for a long moment while their breathing evened out, quieted, and Eric could finally hear the stirrings of life beyond the camper. The affable cowboy’s impish expression shifted to something more serious, and a sense of foreboding kicked up the panic dance a notch. Eric didn’t even want to guess what was coming, but he had a feeling he wasn’t going to like it.

Bridge rolled to his side and rested his head on a hand, reaching out to caress Eric’s shoulder with the other. “Did you close up your house for the season yet?”

Eric frowned. Well, that was out of left field. “Uh, no. I was going to head back after the clinic wrapped today.”

“Do you have much to do?” Bridge glanced away briefly.

“No, not really. Forward the mail, pack some stuff, leave a key with the neighbors.”

“And work? Are you back to on call now?”

Eric nodded, trying to get a grip on his increasing heart rate.

Bridge inhaled a deep breath, like he was shoring up courage, which only increased Eric’s apprehension as to where this was headed.

“So . . . I was thinking: why don’t you stay here? In Folsom. Come out to the ranch until the season starts and—”

Eric gasped. He didn’t mean to, but hell. What was Bridge saying? Move in? After one night and the most amazing blowjob and handjob ever? No. No way. That was not the no-strings, go-slow plan they’d agreed on yesterday.

“I mean, it’s only two weeks, right?” Bridge continued in a rush, his voice sounding more urgent, more unsure. “And we’re way closer here to the season opener than you. Red Bluff is the weekend after, in your neck of the woods, so you could close up your house then. It would save you all that driving back and forth. That’s, like, six hours round-trip, right?” Bridge paused, his gaze imploring, hopeful. “And while you’re here, I can give you some more riding lessons, maybe teach you how to rope. Make a real cowboy out of you.”

“I . . . uh . . .”
Can’t. But I want to.
He ran a hand over his head, stopping to hold the back of his skull in case his conflicted brains decided to spill out. It would be too much time too close to Bridge, which would make it too easy to lose his perspective and fall in too deep.

“I mean . . .” Bridge shrugged and shifted his gaze to follow his hand as it slid a hot path from Eric’s shoulder to his elbow and back. “It’s not like I’m asking you to move in or anything. We do have two guest rooms, so you’d have your own space. But you know—” Bridge shot him a quick, shy glance, but there was a heat behind it, like the looks Bridge had given him last night, all weekend, and he knew then, good or bad, he was going to give in. “Think of all the sex we could have—and in a real bed that’s actually big enough for full-grown men.”

Okay. No-strings sex. That was what they’d agreed on, and it would only be two weeks. And he’d have his own room . . . Jesus, he was really considering this.

“What about Kent?”

“No threesomes.” Bridge’s mouth lifted in a crooked smile.

“You know what I mean, Bridge.” His tone was a little harder than he’d intended, but this wasn’t a game to him. He knew the risk he was running here and needed some assurance from Bridge that he realized it too, and would respect his boundaries. “We’re not dating. We’re not boyfriends. We’re friends who have sex sometimes. Okay?”

Eric was almost sad to see that teasing smile slip from Bridge’s face, but his eyes and voice were sincere when he spoke. “I’ll talk to him. Make sure he understands we’re just . . . hanging out.”

Eric nodded. “Thank you.”

“So . . . what do you say, stud?”

Eric studied Bridge for a long moment, taking in the deep-brown eyes with flecks of sunshine in them, how warm and comfortable and safe looking into them made him feel. Fuck. He was so screwed. He knew it. This was not going to end well, but he was so starved for what Bridge was offering, he couldn’t find it in him to walk away just yet. He reached out and traced Bridge’s lips with a fingertip. “All guns blazing.”

Bridge smiled, and his fate was sealed.

Three days and several blowjobs later, Bridge yanked the front door open before Eric’s blue Tundra had come to a complete stop in the driveway. He walked to the edge of the front patio barefoot and bounced on his toes, his smile so big, it could split his face in half. Which was silly, considering only ten hours had passed since Eric had been called in to cover a shift in Modesto today. Not even a full twenty-four hours had gone by, yet it felt like it had been a month. He knew Eric was only at work, that he’d return when he was done, but even so, Bridge had found it almost impossible to concentrate all day. Just knowing Eric had been there, that he could look up from whatever he was doing and catch a glimpse, a smile, a flash of that gorgeous dimple, steal a kiss . . . had somehow become important to him.

Eric waved as he parked and killed the engine, and Bridge’s mouth watered when Eric sauntered around the side of the vehicle toward him, still wearing his work clothes—dark-blue trousers and a crisp white shirt under a dark-blue jacket with more pockets than Bridge could count. A patch on the jacket bore a paramedic emblem, and underneath it, Eric’s name was written in matching blue cursive.

A man in uniform. He could definitely see the appeal now.

“Hey, stud,” Bridge said and opened his arms to welcome him home.

“Hey, cowboy.” Eric stepped right into the embrace, kissing him like he’d just returned from a week in the desert without water. To which Bridge could relate, because that was exactly how he felt. All day, he’d been trying to quench a thirst that could only be slaked by the hot-as-sin New Yorker currently in his arms. It was then that he not only realized how natural, how right, it had felt to welcome Eric home like this, but that Eric hadn’t hesitated. As far as signs went, it was small, but Bridge hoped that maybe Eric was beginning to see how much more they could be, too.

Bridge walked them backward into the house, breaking the kiss only because he stumbled over the weather stripping in the doorway. “I want you so damn bad right now.”

“Likewise,” Eric said, kicking the door closed with the heel of his shoe.

He pushed Eric up against the door and claimed his mouth in another thirst-quenching kiss. He started plucking at Eric’s shirt buttons, urgency rising inside him like a tidal wave.

“Whoa.” Eric pulled back, lightly wrapping his hands around Bridge’s wrists. “Not here. I doubt Kent wants to see this kind of show.”

Bridge slipped out from under those warm hands he knew could do amazing things to his body and returned to his mission: stripping Eric and having his way with him. “I gave him twenty bucks and kicked him out. Told him to quit being a chickenshit and take Lily out for dinner.”

Eric laughed and hooked his index fingers in the front pockets of Bridge’s jeans, tugging him closer so their groins were flush together. Being so close made it harder for Bridge to undo the lower shirt buttons and slowed him down, but oh, the sweet pressure on his dick was so worth it.

“Marty’s sister?” Eric’s voice sounded a little breathy, but his accent had sharpened. He kissed Bridge on his neck, just below his ear, and Bridge shivered. “About time, I guess. Never saw that man blush or stumble over his words like he does in her presence.”