Conquer the Flames (Langs Down) (18 page)

Thorne looked surprised at that. “I’ve spent so much of my time in danger I don’t think about it anymore.”

“Well, start thinking,” Ian said. “If you’re going to stay on Lang Downs—” He swallowed hard. “—with me, I need to know you’re going to think about your own safety. I want you to come home every night.”

“There’s a difference between being in danger and being stupid about it,” Thorne said. “I always take every precaution I can to stay safe and still get the job done. I don’t have a death wish.”

“No job at Lang Downs is worth risking your safety,” Ian insisted. “If you don’t believe me, ask Caine. Buildings can be rebuilt, sheep replaced, but not lives. The only reason to risk your life is to save the life of someone else.”

“I got yelled at for that too,” Thorne admitted. “Captain Grant didn’t agree with my decision to go after you, but I’m fine and you’re alive. I respectfully told him where he could stuff it.”

Ian snickered. “Respectfully?”

“Very respectfully,” Thorne replied. “I told him I’d make sure these fires were out because they threatened someplace important to me, but to consider this my resignation from the RFS. Your life is worth more than any regs.”

Ian couldn’t do anything after a declaration like that except lean into Thorne and kiss him. Thorne’s beard rasped against his lips, driving home to Ian just who he was kissing. This wasn’t some random guy in a bar or some faceless fantasy. This was Thorne, with his lush beard and long hair. That thought was enough to make him lift his hands to burrow into Thorne’s hair. He luxuriated in the sensation of the silky strands moving over the back of his hands as he pulled Thorne closer. He wanted to dive into Thorne and never leave.

Thorne broke the kiss and nuzzled Ian’s jaw again as he had done the night before. Ian gasped and tilted his head back, offering Thorne his trust as he offered him his neck. He sighed at the tender caress that followed, licks and nibbles and kisses all along his neck, all punctuated by the constant tickle of Thorne’s beard. Ian relaxed into the contact, content to let Thorne lavish attention on him.

With that moment of surrender came a crashing realization. He didn’t just want more kisses. He was getting turned on. For the first time, he was with someone else and aroused despite his lingering fears. Suddenly eager, he used his hand in Thorne’s hair to guide his head back up so they could kiss again. He kissed Thorne with all the joy and wonder in his heart and as much of the rising passion as he dared. His inhibitions wouldn’t give up that easily, but even so, Ian pressed their lips together and then daringly nibbled on Thorne’s lower lip. He felt more than heard Thorne’s gasp at that, and then Thorne swept his tongue across his lips, surprising Ian into retreating for a moment.

“No?” Thorne asked.

“Yes,” Ian answered, his need getting the better of his nerves. Thorne had asked. He’d held himself back at the first sign of hesitation and had waited for Ian’s approval before continuing. He’d proven Ian could trust him.

Ian pulled Thorne to him again, parting his lips in invitation this time. He could take this risk. Thorne would stop if he asked. He could sit here in this hospital bed and kiss this wonderful, amazing,
arousing
man and not worry about what came next.

Thorne tasted like peppermint, Ian discovered as Thorne deepened their kiss, making Ian wonder if he’d popped a breath mint before coming to the hospital or if he was like Michael, who always had peppermints in his pocket for when he needed a “pick-me-up.” The answer didn’t matter except to make Ian smile into the kiss.

“What?” Thorne asked.

“You taste like peppermint. It bought back good memories.”

“An old boyfriend?”

“No,” Ian said, “none of those in my closet. Michael Lang always had one or a dozen in his pocket. He went through so many in a day that he always smelled of peppermint. He started it when he quit smoking, but that was before my time. By the time I got to Lang Downs, the cigarettes were a thing of the past and only the peppermints remained.”

“They remind me of my mother,” Thorne admitted. “She always had one in her pocket or purse. After… after she died, I started carrying them as a way to remember.”

“I’m glad you have good memories of her and a way to keep them,” Ian said.

“It was a long time ago,” Thorne said.

“All the more reason it’s important,” Ian insisted, drawing Thorne in for another kiss.

The contact was still languid, neither of them showing any inclination to rush, but this kiss was deeper now, openmouthed as they took turns exploring each other. The whole time, Thorne cradled Ian’s head in his hands as he’d done the night before, caressing that spot behind Ian’s ear that shouldn’t have been so sensitive but was.

Experimentally, Ian tried caressing Thorne the same way, but while Thorne tilted his head into Ian’s hand, it didn’t earn him the same reaction. As he moved his fingers, they brushed over the nape of Thorne’s neck, and that elicited the reaction Ian had hoped for.

“Right there,” Thorne murmured against Ian’s lips.

“There?” Ian asked as he repeated the caress.

“Yes.”

“That’s not where I’m sensitive,” Ian mused aloud.

Thorne smiled and kissed him softly. “No, but that’s the joy of discovering a new lover: finding all the places that feel good to him.”

“I thought….” Ian trailed off, not wanting to reveal his complete ignorance.

“The guys you were with in the past were complete drongos if they didn’t take the time to find this little spot.” Thorne brushed his thumb over Ian’s skin.

“It never got that far,” Ian admitted. “They’d kiss me and then start groping and that would be the end of that.”

“Drongos, every one of them,” Thorne said. “I won’t make the same mistake.”

Ian nodded even as a shiver of desire curled through him, and he stroked the nape of Thorne’s neck again. “Nor will I.”

Thirteen

“
T
HANKS
for coming to pick me up, Molly. I know the drive can’t have been easy to make twice in a week,” Ian said as they arrived back at Lang Downs. The sheep still crowded into the valley, but Thorne had told him the day before that they were still watching hot spots, so it made sense Caine would play it safe. Much longer, though, and they’d have to bring hay in to feed the sheep, and that would get expensive. Hopefully the danger would be passed before then.

“You’re welcome, Ian. Just don’t overdo it before you’re ready. I don’t want to have to take you back.”

“I’ve got a nebulizer and a rescue inhaler,” Ian said. “I’ll be fine.”

She didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t follow him across the station as he walked toward his house either. It would be good to sleep in his own bed, to make it through the night without interruption, and to be back at work tomorrow. He didn’t expect to be let anywhere near the fires again, but he could find plenty to do in the valley. He’d see if Neil would leave Max with him. The kelpie worked with Neil best, but he’d listen to Ian if Neil wasn’t around, which was more than he could say for Arrow, Jeremy’s dog. Arrow had eyes and ears for Jeremy and Sam alone.

He neared the house and wondered if Thorne was back yet. Thorne had come to see him every night he was in the hospital, and they’d spent far more time talking than they had kissing. Of course they’d done quite a bit of that too, but Ian felt like he had a better sense of the other man, his military past, and his reasons for retiring when he did. He didn’t know details, but a lot of those were classified and he might never know. It wasn’t the details that mattered, anyway. He just wanted to know the man Thorne had become because of those experiences.

He was looking forward to evenings spent together in his living room, just time to be together and relax from the day. He hoped to teach Thorne about the station and living there, to show him the beauty in the stark landscape and hidden copses, to introduce him to the majesty of a storm breaking across the tablelands. He pushed open the door to the house and stepped inside, only to be brought up short by majestic beauty of an entirely different kind.

Thorne stood in the middle of the living room in nothing but a towel that barely closed around his hips.

Ian had known Thorne was a big man, but he hadn’t really known what was hiding under Thorne’s clothes. His shoulders were broad and heavily muscled, the black ink of tattoos dark against each bicep, although Ian couldn’t tell what they were from this distance. He was golden brown all over, either his natural skin tone or the result of time spent outdoors in a very small swimsuit (or nothing at all). His chest was covered by a thick black pelt shot through with silver like his hair and beard, but that only added to the appeal. His torso narrowed to the hips, which was probably a good thing or the towel wouldn’t have covered anything, not that it hid much. Thorne had managed to knot it at his waist, but it opened again below the knot, so Thorne’s hip and upper thigh were uncovered. If he’d turned, Ian suspected he’d get a glimpse of arse as well.

“Like what you see?” Thorne drawled, making Ian’s face flame in embarrassment.

“Sorry,” he stammered. “I didn’t mean to stare.”

“You can stare all you want,” Thorne replied. “I don’t mind.”

Ian’s cheeks heated even more, because despite his best intentions, he couldn’t make himself look away. Common courtesy dictated he go into the kitchen or the bedroom or somewhere to give Thorne some privacy while he dressed, but the rivulets of water working their way down Thorne’s chest had caught his attention, and he couldn’t stop tracing their tracks with his gaze. He itched to touch, but Thorne hadn’t given permission for that, only to watch.

Ian swallowed hard as Thorne turned his back and grabbed a pair of white boxer briefs. He stepped into them and pulled them up his legs and underneath the towel. Ian’s breath caught in his throat as he watched. He knew Thorne wasn’t putting on a show for him, but damn if it didn’t feel that way. Then the towel slipped, giving Ian a glimpse of sharply defined buttocks the same golden brown as the rest of Thorne’s body. A second later, Thorne pulled the briefs into place, not that the clingy fabric did anything to disguise the muscular curve of flesh. The only real difference was the color.

“What did the doctors say about continuing care for your lungs?” Thorne asked as he turned back around.

The words didn’t even begin to compute in Ian’s head. He was still too busy assimilating the view. Ian was pretty sure Thorne was even more dangerous now with his underwear snug over his body than he’d been when the towel was threatening to fall. The towel at least had been loose, leaving some things to the imagination. Thorne’s briefs framed his package, practically begging Ian to stare.

“What?” he said, forcing his gaze up to meet Thorne’s, except Thorne was pulling a T-shirt over his head.

Good,
Ian thought.
Maybe now I can stop making a fool of myself.

“I asked what the doctors’ orders were concerning continuing care,” Thorne repeated. He grabbed a pair of jeans and pulled those on as well.

“Oh, um, take it easy for a few days, ease back into work, use the nebulizer at night, and keep the inhaler on me at all times because other things besides smoke could contribute to an attack,” Ian replied absently, still taken by the vision of Thorne standing nearly naked in his living room.

Now fully dressed, Thorne crossed to where Ian was standing. “You okay?” he asked as he ran his thumb over the sensitive spot on Ian’s neck. Ian leaned into the caress.

“Yeah, just a little….”

Thorne grinned. “I’d apologize, but you don’t seem to mind. If I’d known you were home already, I would have taken my clothes into the bathroom with me.”

“No, I don’t mind,” Ian whispered, amazed at his own boldness. He’d hated living in the bunkhouse because he’d always been bothered by the lack of privacy, but Thorne wasn’t some random jackaroo, and Ian’s staring wasn’t unwelcome. He pushed up on his tiptoes and kissed Thorne softly. He’d known Thorne was taller than him, but when they were sitting side by side on the bed at the hospital, it hadn’t seemed like that much of a difference. Now Ian felt positively dwarfed next to him. “How tall are you, anyway?”

“Six foot four,” Thorne said. He bent his head so their lips met again. Ian threaded his fingers into the wet hair and made sure to find Thorne’s own sensitive spot in retaliation—or gratitude—for Thorne’s attention to the patch of skin behind his ear.

Thorne sucked lightly on Ian’s lower lip, making Ian’s head spin even more than the sight of him nude had already done. He gasped into the kiss and held onto Thorne’s shoulders like a lifeline. Having seen the breadth of them, he thought maybe they were wide enough to bear that burden.

Ian couldn’t say what might have happened if the bell hadn’t rung for dinner. For the first time in his memory, Ian was willingly in someone’s arms and not freaking out because of it. Seeing Thorne had him so turned on he might have actually done something about it, but as it was, his stomach rumbled with Pavlovian precision.

“Let’s get dinner,” Thorne said as he drew back. “We can pick up here later.”