Page 13 of Drunk Dialing

“Yes!” That was what he needed. The squeeze, the pressure, the wild heat, and that scent that was his lover. He came so hard he saw stars, his body sawing back and forth as he thrust the last few times.

“Treat. Damn. Damn, love.”

“Uh-huh.” He pulled Jake close, rolling to one side. He always read about people who got up right away to clean up, but he liked how Jake smelled on his skin.

Jake kissed him, the caress long and slow and lazy.

He rested his hands on Jake’s body and kissed back, perfectly happy right where he was.

He was going to make this son of a bitch so goddamn happy. Even if he had to lay the smackdown on Jake.

Chapter Four

Jake headed out of the fancy hotel room, first thing in the morning, having showered before pulling on clothes and boots and doing the walk of shame.

Treat had been sleeping the rest of the exhausted, and he’d looked so pretty, stretched out there on the bed, smiling a little bit, like he was dreaming something amazing. The stunning son of a bitch filled up the bed, dark hair mussed, that five o’clock shadow threatening already to become a beard, even though Jake knew for a fact Treat had shaved before coming to see him last night. The best part was the long, dark eyelashes that cast a shadow, making Treat seem, for this second at least, that he wasn’t a total badass.

Jake had left a note—it wasn’t like he was deserting the man or anything—but he had to meet with one of his sponsors for breakfast, and Lord knew he had things to do.

So he reckoned they could meet up again this afternoon. Have a chat. A drink. Maybe a blowjob.

He was pretty easy, when it came right down to it. He didn’t have to ride again until tomorrow, so he had all day.

It wasn’t until he got down to the ground floor of the hotel that he realized he’d left his fucking truck at the arena.

Dammit.

Jake told the valet dude he needed an Uber, rolling his eyes at himself. Jiminy Christmas, he was a newborn fool.

He leaned against the wall as he waited, whistling, his body aching in all the right places.

They’d been so good together last night, and the sex had been great. Treat still knew how to turn him inside out with a touch, with a single word. But that wasn’t the best part of it.

Jake had been over the moon with simply sitting and talking over supper, after the sex, after round two, even.

He reckoned that made him old, but it was neat just to see Treat’s face. To talk about how the riding was going, the broncs, the bulls. Treat’s ranch.

He thought Treat was gonna offer again.

To let him come stay at the house.

To be a part of the big ranch, the horses and cattle.

Jake thought maybe he’d ponder on going this time. In fact, he was pretty damn sure he wanted to.

The simple fact he was wearing out. The body could only play the rodeo game for so long, especially being roughstock. Between the bulls and the broncs, he just?—

Some mornings, he swore to God he didn’t have a bone that didn’t hurt. Damn, but he did like sleeping in a bed, too. A real one, not just an air mattress in the bed of the truck.

Not only that? Jake wanted a dog. Was that weird? He thought it might be weird, but he really wanted a hound, something that he could love on.

He wanted to have coffee with Treat in the morning, supper with him at night, watch stupid-assed TV for a couple hours, then go to bed, knowing that he’d done good work for the day.

God help him, he wanted to be normal.

The Uber pulled up, and he hopped in, popping in his earphones and blaring Chris Stapleton as loud as his ears could bear it. He didn’t want to talk.

He had to think about this. Was he being selfish? A dick? Was he using Treat and Treat’s money?

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