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“Cal, let him go.” Callan released him instantly at the sound of Finn’s voice and put several feet of space between them and Rhys wondered how much Finn had heard. He watched in shock as Callan removed his cowboy hat and casually held it in front of the bulge in his pants.
Finn reached them and didn’t seem to notice the sexual tension in the air or what Callan was doing with the hat. “You can’t keep doing this Cal,” Finn said sadly.
“Doing what?”
“Protecting me from everything. I’m not a kid anymore, despite what you think. Stop treating me like one.”
“Finn-”
“He goes, I go,” Finn said firmly, his eyes glancing in Rhys’ direction.
Callan glanced over his shoulder and Rhys could feel the disdain in his bones. “He’ll use you,” Callan bit out.
“That’s my choice to make.”
The way they were talking like he wasn’t even there left Rhys feeling cold and he moved past them both and headed towards Finn’s little house. He hadn’t even bothered to unpack before Finn put him to work so it took only a minute to grab his duffle bag from the closet in the small bedroom across from Finn’s.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it to sound like I agreed that you would use me,” Finn said from behind him.
“Doesn’t matter. It’s what I was planning to do,” Rhys said as he slung the bag over his shoulder and turned to face Finn who was standing just inside the doorway.
“You don’t have to go. Cal said you could stay,” Finn offered.
“I don’t think this is the best place for me to be right now,” Rhys said as he tried to move past Finn. But the younger man refused to move out of his way.
“You thought I was older, didn’t you?” Finn said. “He told you I’m nineteen.”
“What else did you hear?”
“Just some yelling. When I came out, I saw he had you up against the truck.” So the kid hadn’t heard Rhys taunting Callan.
“Look kid,” Rhys began, but stopped when Finn’s face fell.
“I haven’t been a kid since the day my dad beat the shit out of me when he found out I was gay!” Finn yelled angrily. “You know what? Fuck you! Fuck Cal!” he shouted before he disappeared into his room, slamming the door behind him. But before Rhys could even process what was happening, Finn ripped the door open, stalked across the hall and grabbed Rhys by the neck and slammed their mouths together.
Finn’s tongue pressed into his mouth and he opened instantly and moaned as that slick, hot appendage stroked and twined around his own tongue. Finn’s long fingers curled into his hair and angled Rhys’ head the way he wanted it so he could go deeper and Rhys dropped his duffle bag and reached for Finn’s hips. But Finn had other plans and quickly released him and stepped back. “Fuck you, Rhys,” he whispered, his voice sad and heavy. The finality in his tone made something deep inside of Rhys twist, but before he could say anything, Finn went back to his room and closed the door, the sound of the lock engaging deafening to his ears.
ChapterThree
Jesus, he never should have kissed the guy. Finn Stewart cursed his own stupidity for the hundredth time since he’d closed the door to his bedroom last night, securing the lock more to remind himself that he needed to stay in the room rather than as a signal to keep Rhys out. Between Cal and Rhys, he was riding high on unrequited desire and if Rhys had shown any interest beyond the kiss Finn had forced on him last night, Finn would have gotten into any position Rhys had told him to. Of course, it wouldn’t have taken long for Rhys to figure out that he had no experience beyond kissing so things probably would have ended the way they had anyway – with Finn jerking off in the shower last night and Rhys on his way back to Chicago.
He glanced at the clock and saw his alarm would go off in less than five minutes. For once, he wasn’t eager to face the day or the man he’d been pining over since he was old enough to figure out what lust actually was. He’d met Callan Bale when Cal’s father hired Finn’s own father as foreman. Finn’s mom had walked out on them when he was seven and he hadn’t heard from her since, but he and his dad had been close and he’d idolized the man. Tag Stewart had always made time for his son, even after long days running cattle and mending fences. And as soon as Finn was old enough to sit a horse, he’d been learning the business by his father’s side. They’d talked and planned endlessly about the day they would get their own ranch and run it together, side by side. And then a kiss with the mayor’s son had taken it all away.
Growing up, he’d also gotten to work with Cal who was learning the business from his own father, Carter Bale, who’d inherited the ranch from Cal’s grandfather. It hadn’t taken long for Finn to realize that the feelings he had for Cal went well beyond being buddies or the way Cal often treated him like a younger brother. But Cal had never shown any interest in him and when Finn had finally gotten up the courage to try and kiss Cal after Finn’s sixteenth birthday party, it had been a rude awakening.
He could still remember that night. The few friends he’d had over had gone home and his father had gone to bed and he and Cal had been sitting on the patio swing on Cal’s porch. It had been just the two of them under a blanket of bright stars and the symphony of crickets and the occasional bullfrog from the nearby lake. Cal had given him a pocketknife and was in the process of explaining the different tools when Finn tried to kiss him. Cal had stopped him before their lips had touched and then looked at him with a sad smile – the one people gave you when they were trying to figure out how to let you down easy.
It turned out that Finn had been reading all the signals coming from Cal wrong over the years – the brush of his hand on Finn’s shoulder had been meant as encouragement, the kind words meant to comfort. Somehow Finn had turned everything around in his young mind and it hadn’t occurred to him that the strong feelings that went through him every time he was around Cal were one-sided. Cal hadn’t even had to say anything after he prevented the kiss from happening – one pitying look was all it had taken to send Finn running and they’d never discussed it again.
After that, Finn had focused on saving enough money so that he could pitch in when it came time for him and his father to buy their own place. But then the mayor’s son, Hunter Greene, had cornered him in his family’s pool house during the senior graduation party and kissed him – his second ever since the brief, experimental kiss he’d shared with Ronny when they were both fourteen. Kissing Hunter had been like nothing he’d ever experienced before and it hadn’t taken long before he and Hunter were rolling around on the floor, each trying to get their hands in the other’s swimsuits. Finn had won the battle and had been on top of Hunter, stroking him with long, hard pulls as he humped against him. And then light had flooded the dark room and Hunter’s father stood there as Hunter pushed Finn off and began spouting lies about what had transpired.
Before he could even explain what had really happened, Finn was being carted off to the police station and three hours later Cal was there to take him home. But home hadn’t been the refuge it should have been and his father wasn’t there to greet him with understanding. No, the man he’d loved more than anything, his hero, punched him over and over while calling him a faggot, then kicked him until Finn finally blacked out from the pain. He’d woken up in a hospital bed, Cal sitting worriedly in a nearby chair. He’d had that same bad news look on his face when he told Finn his father had left town after Cal fired him. Finn hadn’t seen or heard from his father since.
Finn forced himself out of bed and went to the bathroom. His morning erection wouldn’t be ignored so he climbed into the shower and took care of it, trying hard not to think too much about why his usual image of Cal taking him from behind suddenly included Rhys on his knees in front of him. By the time he’d toweled off, his need was already starting to burn through him again.
He got dressed and headed towards the kitchen and stopped suddenly at the sight that greeted him. Rhys was standing in front of the stove, his jeans lovingly hugging his tight ass and a grey T-shirt clinging to every rippling muscle along his back.
“Hey,” Rhys said as he turned around, frying pan in one hand, spatula in the other. He began putting scrambled eggs on the two plates on the small kitchen table. God, the man was gorgeous and the heat from the kiss Finn had stolen last night came back with a vengeance, as did the hard-on he’d rubbed out just a few minutes ago. Finn shifted to ease the tightness in his pants and heard Rhys ask, “You okay?” as his green eyes shimmered with amusement.Bastard.
