Troy's Surrender (3 page)

The sun streamed through the curtains he’d forgotten to close and stung his bleary eyes. Troy groaned. There should seriously be a law against mornings, particularly after drinking as much as he had the night before. But after talking to Ken the guilt had been riding him hard, something he was really, really not used to. He thought he’d abandoned most of his scruples during his first year as a private detective. He was not at all pleased to rediscover them.

Troy shifted, hissing as pain stabbed through his head. Besides the hangover pain, he was also uncomfortable as hell. Looking down, he realized he was still dressed. Or partially, at least. His shirt and shoes had vanished at some point, but Troy still wore his jeans. They had a couple of stains on them, the origins of which Troy would rather not contemplate. Hopefully, it was just beer. Or tequila. He sort of thought there had been a lot of tequila the night before.

He was exhausted, his head hurt, and he didn’t really want to face Rafe anytime soon. He vaguely recalled a taxi dropping him off in the early hours of the morning. There had been some sort of confrontation on the stairs. Something about loud, off-key singing.

Comfort be damned. The way Troy felt, he could probably pass out in the middle of an airport and not notice a thing. He started to roll over, away from the window, in the vain hope of getting some more sleep.

Troy tugged his arms. It took his hungover brain several long seconds to arrive at a conclusion.
Someone had tied him to the bed.
Troy twisted, dropping his head backward and trying to see. He blinked a few more times and the headboard came into focus. He was sprawled on his back, arms spread wide and fastened quite securely to the corners of the double bed with thick rope. An image flashed through his head of that same rope flying through the air, held confidently by a bronze god.
“Rafe!”
Silence. Long and irritating silence.
“Rafe, goddammit, get your ass up here, you bastard!”
A low chuckle floated over him. His stupid pheromones went into overdrive, body tensing with lust at the sexy sound. He scolded his swiftly rising cock firmly. Now was not the time.
“Rafe, this is not funny. Untie me, now.”
“Naw, I don’t think I will.”
Troy turned his head on the pillow, fixing the tall man in the doorway with his best ferocious glare. Rafe just smiled.
“You going to at least tell me what this is all about?” he asked, tugging unconsciously at his bonds.
The smile dropped away, replaced by a dark scowl. “This is about getting some answers,” Rafe growled. “You’ve been lying to me from the minute you stepped foot on this ranch and I’m sick of it. So you’re gonna stay right there until you tell me the truth.”
A tingle raced up Troy’s spine, one inspired by a far different feeling than the earlier lust. “What the hell are you babbling about?”
“You know damn well.” Rafe took a step backward.
“Wait! Where are you going?” His struggles increased as it became apparent that Rafe was going to leave him here, strapped down and helpless.
Rafe paused. “I’m gonna be a gentleman and give you a chance to sober up before I start on the interrogation. I suggest you take the time and work out real careful-like what you’re gonna say.”
Troy dropped his head back down on the pillow to the sound of fading footsteps. He groaned, cursing Ken, Mark, himself, and everyone else involved in this damn mess.
His head had stopped pounding—amazing how effective a hangover cure adrenaline made. His mouth still tasted like someone had stuffed it with cotton balls. The least Rafe could have done was give him a glass of water. Not that he could drink it. Nah, best he hadn’t. It would have been a new kind of torture to stare at the glass. And he didn’t want Rafe getting close enough to him to give him a drink.
The bastard might find out how much his body was enjoying his predicament. Damn cock never did know what was best.
Troy spent the day staring at the water-stained ceiling. All right, so it only felt like a day. According to the clock on the nightstand, it had really been a half an hour. But Troy didn’t do too well with inactivity. He could spend hours behind a desk poring over spreadsheets, but he hated to have his attention unoccupied for longer than five minutes. Okay, two minutes. If he was going to have to be honest, he might as well start with himself.
At least Troy’s head was starting to clear. Thinking was becoming easier. He still had a nagging pain in the back of his neck, but that could have been from straining to see the doorway. It put his head at an awkward angle on the pillow.
Footsteps echoed on the wood floor in the hallway. Troy dropped his head back, closed his eyes, and tried to look relaxed instead of guilty. He probably failed, but it was worth a shot.
The floorboards creaked as Rafe approached the bed. Troy’s eyes popped open. Rafe loomed over him, glaring down at his captive, folded arms making the muscles of his forearms stand out with delicious definition.
Troy squinted up at Rafe. “You going to untie me now?”
Rafe shook his head. “No, I don’t think I will. We’re gonna have this conversation, whether you like it or not. I’d prefer not to wear myself out chasing you down first.”
“Fair enough,” Troy murmured with complete and utter insincerity. Personally, he thought a game of chase sounded like marvelously good fun.
Rafe sat on the edge of the bed and Troy surreptitiously tugged at his bindings. The man was just too close for comfort. He shifted, wanting rather desperately to roll over. Or slap a pillow over himself. Anything to hide the erection straining at his jeans.
“Start talking,” Rafe growled.
“Don’t you, I don’t know, have some chores or something? After all, it’s only”—he twisted to see the clock, blinking—“noon? Okay, so maybe no chores. Lunch?”
“Done and done. I’ve got all afternoon.”
“Shit, shit, shit,” Troy muttered under his breath.
“Why are you here?” The words were spoken softly. The lack of anger caught Troy’s attention, but it was the slight note of hurt that did him in.
Damn it. Why the hell did he listen to Ken? The man got him in more trouble…all right, to be fair, it wasn’t really Ken’s fault. He could say no every once in a while.
Troy dropped his head back again and closed his eyes, not really wanting to see Rafe’s expression. “How did you find out?” he asked softly.
“Tom’s a good friend of mine. The one pouring your beers last night. He thought I ought to know about some
suspicious things
you said. Wasn’t hard to take it from there.”
Damn. No getting out of it now. “I’m a private detective. I was hired to scope out the ranch. And you,” he added reluctantly. “Find out what I could that might…give someone an edge, I guess you could say. Leverage. But I really am a CPA,” he hastened to say. “And your books truly are a mess, and I’ve been trying to straighten them out between…I mean, I’m not screwing you over there, swear to God, Rafe. And I’ve been feeling guilty as hell about the whole thing, especially after the last couple of days, and I’ve been just sick about hurting you and—”
Rafe’s tired sigh was enough to shut off the flow of words, something for which Troy was very grateful. He was babbling, and he always said more than he intended to when he started babbling. Running over his speech in his head, he realized that this time was no exception.
“Give me one good reason why I should believe you.”
Troy tried to think of something and couldn’t. He hadn’t thought it possible to feel any worse, any more miserable, but that did it.
“I can’t,” he answered honestly. “I wish I could. I wish I had the words to just…put everything right. But I screwed up, big time.”
The uncomfortable silence grew. Troy tried to hold back some of the thoughts floating in his head, but he couldn’t.
“I shouldn’t have taken this case,” he admitted. “I knew it from the start. It’s a messed up situation, and I normally keep my nose out of stuff like this. But I saw your picture and just…”
“Just what?” Rafe may have asked quietly, but the tone in his voice demanded an answer.
“I liked what I saw. I wanted to meet you.”
“Why?” Rafe asked, genuinely confused. “Meeting a guy you liked under false pretenses? Where did you think it was gonna get you?”
“I didn’t think, okay?” Troy snapped. “At least, not with the head on my shoulders. There, you happy now?”
“No, not particularly.” Rafe scrubbed his hands over his face. “What do I do with you now?”
“Untie me?” Troy asked hopefully.
Rafe slowly shook his head no. Troy was about to snap curses at the man looming over him, but then he saw something. The look burning in Rafe’s eyes wasn’t anger, not anymore. Instead, there was heat and a swiftly rising hunger.
Troy licked his suddenly dry lips, gut tightening when the motion made Rafe’s eyes darken even further.
“Rafe?” Troy murmured. “It would be a shame to waste this lovely setup. You’ve got me tied to the bed. Wouldn’t you like to take advantage of that?”
“You know, I do believe I would.”
Without warning, Rafe pounced. Troy grunted as Rafe’s solid six-foot frame landed on top of him, pushing him into the mattress. Lies were pushed aside, anger evolving into lust. Rafe grabbed Troy’s wrists, tightening on top of the rope and holding Troy down more firmly. Their lips came together in a kiss that was all teeth and tongue, heat and excitement. Troy moaned and arched his neck, trying to urge Rafe deeper. God, he had forgotten how good a simple kiss could feel. And this kiss wasn’t simple. Rafe teased and taunted, not seeming to care that Troy’s breath was really rank. Troy gave back as good as he got, letting the taste of Rafe dull the stale alcohol still lingering on his tongue. Time slipped away as they fucked each other with nothing more than their mouths.
When Rafe finally pulled back they were both panting for breath, chests heaving and pupils wide.
“Damn,” Troy said. “Got anything else, cowboy?”
Rafe smiled, a wicked expression that sent tingles shooting down Troy’s spine to lodge in his groin. Troy’s cock was rock hard, pressing into the fly of his jeans with enough pressure to hurt.
Troy wiggled, thrusting his hips up enticingly. “I think it’s about time to lose the clothes, don’t you?”
For just a minute, uncertainty flickered into Rafe’s eyes. Damn, his cowboy was thinking too much.
Well, Troy knew how to take care of that. He ground his hips against Rafe’s, rubbing his thigh against Rafe’s crotch at the same time. The poor man’s eyes practically glazed over from the pressure.
Troy had to bite back a protest as Rafe slid to one side and stood. Damn it, if the man didn’t want him—
Oh, oh, look at that.
Rafe’s shirt went flying across the room. His hands moved to the button of his jeans and it was all Troy could do to keep from panting out loud as the chiseled muscles flexed and twisted with his movements. Troy had always been a sucker for a well-built body, and Rafe had about the finest he’d ever seen.
Troy heard a loud groan as Rafe shoved his jeans and underwear to the floor with one swift move. The groan was his, but he was too far gone to care. Damn, damn, and triple damn. Troy ground his teeth together to keep from coming right then and there. The sight of the man standing next to him and the heat in those pretty green eyes, combined with the earlier kiss, was about to do him in. Troy wasn’t sure if he would survive the sex. But he really, really wanted to find out.
He let his eyes linger on all the pretty scenery. Wide shoulders, defined pecs, a ripped abdomen with its tight six-pack, narrow hips. Then his eyes wandered lower to his favorite part.
Rafe wasn’t all that gifted in the endowment department. Troy was bigger. But he’d never been all that concerned with how much meat a guy was packing. It wasn’t the size of the cock, it was how you used it. Troy had been with some guys who were built but thought they could just stick it in and go at it.
Rafe wasn’t going to have a problem in that area. Not with the way Rafe was devouring Troy with his eyes. Rafe ran his gaze up and down Troy’s naked body, looking like he’d just been presented with a feast made up of all his favorite foods. And he got to start with dessert.
Rafe climbed back onto the bed, dropping his knees between Troy’s spread legs and running his hands up Troy’s sides. Callused fingers slid up and down his heated flesh, a glint of satisfaction lighting Rafe’s eyes when Troy arched into the touch with a low moan.
He dug his heels into the mattress and arched up against his cowboy—and when had the man become
his
cowboy?—and held on.
Skin touched skin again and Troy wondered vaguely when his jeans had vanished. Then he decided he didn’t care. He tugged blindly at the ropes holding him down, feeling the burn as the rough material scraped at his wrists. It sent another wave of heat through him. Troy had never been a big one for kink in the bedroom, but this man, this kink? Oh, yeah, he was all for it.
Troy squirmed as Rafe’s hands continued to roam. There was magic in that touch. Had to be. Troy had never felt so aroused in his life. One touch to his cock. That was all it would take and he’d go off like a firecracker.
Unfortunately, Rafe was busily touching everywhere
but
his cock.
“Rafe, come on, please.” Troy arched up, trying to get some friction, but Rafe just moved to one side and left Troy humping air. “Damn it!”
“Patience.” Rafe ran his hands up Troy’s chest and flicked both nipples with quick, stinging motions.
Troy groaned, loudly, and twisted some more. His hips thrust, body straining for release.
“I’m not done with you yet,” Rafe whispered against Troy’s neck. The words were wicked, tone dark with arousal. Rafe cradled Troy’s hips in his big hands, stroking almost tenderly for several very long seconds.
Then he flipped Troy over with one swift, efficient move. Troy let out a startled yell, feeling a bit like one of Rafe’s calves. He’d seen the cowboy make the same move a few days ago with a calf needing a lame foot checked.
Rafe chuckled, pressing himself against Troy’s back. The rope had twisted, tightening and pulling Troy even closer to the headboard, giving him less movement than he’d had before.
“No, I’m not anywhere close to being done with you,” Rafe said again.
That delicious heat moved away and Troy uttered a sharp, wordless protests. One of Rafe’s hands landed on his ass, almost a smack but without enough force. Troy couldn’t stop his body from pushing back into the touch, craving a sharper contact.
“Maybe later,” Rafe murmured.
Troy nearly sobbed with relief when he heard a drawer open, paper and plastic rustling. Rafe was back seconds later, sliding in between Troy’s legs again.
“Up you go,” Rafe urged. Those hands were back on Troy’s hips, pulling him up. Troy went eagerly, shifting onto his hands and knees. It was a bit difficult, finding his balance with his hands still tied. He finally settled for resting his head on the mattress and shoving his ass in the air. He probably looked like a slut, but if he got Rafe’s cock in his ass anytime soon? He could care less.
Rafe’s big hand smacked his ass again as he settled into position. Troy groaned at the mild sting, the rising heat. God, why the hell did that feel so good?
Rafe hummed, the sound happy, aroused. Beautiful sound. Troy wouldn’t mind hearing more of it, not at all. Callused fingers traced the curve of his butt, running along the dip of his spine and down his crack. Troy wiggled, trying to make the move enticing as possible. He was aching, throbbing. His breath came in harsh pants and he wanted. Now.
Rafe hummed again and, blessedly, the sound of a cap flipping open reached Troy’s ears. He nearly screamed in relief when one thick finger pushed gently at his entrance.
Troy rocked back, impaling himself.
“Easy, honey,” Rafe murmured.
“Forget easy,” Troy said around a groan. Damn, but that finger felt so good, caressing inside his ass with gentle motions. “I can take it. Please, Rafe. Now.”