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“What do you mean?”
Butch gestured to Sol’s erection. “I didn’t touch you once.”
To his surprise, Sol smiled. “This was all about you, okay? We’ll have time enough before I leave for you to reciprocate.” His eyes twinkled. “I thought you invited me to go skinny-dipping at Mirror Lake. Does that invitation still stand?”
“Of course.”
“Well then, that sounds to me like the perfect opportunity for a lot more kissing and touching. Don’t you think?”
“I guess.”
Sol bent down and kissed his forehead. “Good. Then on that note, maybe we should clean up and get some sleep.” He pulled back. “Though I should warn you. If there’s a warm body in my bed, I tend to gravitate in that direction in my sleep. Is that going to be a problem?”
Butch hadn’t shared a bed with anyone since Race. “Not at all.”
Apparently there’d be no need for a pillow fort.
Sol went to get off the bed, and Butch caught hold of his arm. “Sol…” When Sol gave him an inquiring glance, Butch smiled. “Still finding it difficult to get my head around this.”
“Around what?”
He didn’t think he could make Sol understand.
“I thought I knew what… what it was like being with a guy. But you… you just blew all that out of the water.”
Sol kissed him, slow and deep. “That’s because you’d already let go of so much baggage before we even got naked.” His gaze flickered downward. “And speaking of which…” He grinned. “I like you like this.”
Butch laughed. “Well, make the most of it. Because we sure as shit can’t dothisback at the ranch. Not without raising a few eyebrows and getting a shit ton of comments that I’ll have to live with when you’re gone.”
Then it hit him. Sol would be leaving Saturday morning.
Warm, strong arms wrapped around him. “But I’m not gone yet, so let’s enjoy what time we have, okay?”
How did the saying go?All good things must come to an end.
And that was the problem. Butch had only just discovered what he’d been missing out on.
He didn’t want this to end.
Chapter 25
Thursday, August 25
Butch knew he’d been too quiet most of the trip back, but Sol didn’t seem to mind. He’d tuned into his favorite station, Montana Radio Cafe, that claimed to provide front porch music, playing a mix of bluegrass, blues, folk, jazz and a whole lotta country. Sol didn’t appear to mind that either, and Butch caught him humming along several times on the way home.
He’d taken it easy, conscious of Sorrel in the trailer. They’d made a couple of stops along the way, just to check on him, but so far all was well.
“Okay, I’ll admit it. I like this station,” Sol confessed.
His words barely registered. Butch wasn’t listening to the music—he was too busy replaying the previous night in a loop. As in, every damn minute. He wanted to burn it all into his brain: Sol’s deep, drugging, intimate kisses; the feel of his hands on Butch’s skin, making him quiver; the way he looked at Butch, even when they kissed; the sounds he made when his lips were stretched around Butch’s shaft, sending delicious vibrations all the way to his balls; and the smell of him, a scent that got him hard and wanting.
All those things he said he liked about being with a guy…
Sol had nailed every last one of them.
Butch never wanted to go back to what he’d had before. How could he? That would be like going back to candlelight after the discovery of electricity.
I don’t want to go back.
