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“You look like you’ve been through it,” Cash said tenderly. His lips brushed against Nick’s temple—there and gone—and he pressed his fingers into Nick’s lower back. “Let’s get you inside before you fall down.”
Nick wanted to protest that no such thing would happen, but he needed to allocate his energy to putting one foot in front of the other. His nearly feral determination to see Cash had acted like a nerve block, making his shoulder nothing more than a mere discomfort. He’d had toothaches that hurt much worse for crying out loud. But now that he was at the ranch and quasi-cuddling in Cash’s arms, the pain reemerged from its nap to make its presence known. The vibration from each step went straight to his aching joint, and Nick bit his bottom lip to keep from crying out. Maybe he’d been foolish to refuse the pain meds, but he hated feeling out of control. He desperately needed to take his mind off his discomfort and think of something more pleasant. And so his brain chose that exact moment to replay the time he’d sunk to his knees behind Cash and rimmed him to orgasm in front of the wall of windows at his penthouse. It wasn’t something Nick had planned. He’d woken in the middle of the night to discover Cash looking out over the city he was taking by storm. The bedroom was dark as pitch, and the city lights turned Cash’s gorgeous body into a work of art. He’d had one forearm braced against the glass and a pensive expression on his face. Nick had risen silently from the bed and padded naked to where Cash stood. Pressing his chest to Cash’s back, Nick noticed how cool Cash’s skin was. How long had he stood there? Cash moaned with the contact and leaned his head on Nick’s shoulder, exposing his neck to eager lips. The hand he’d braced on the window moved to Nick’s hair, holding him in place. Cash gave Nick his full weight, leaning into him—a virtual stranger—without concern Nick would let him fall. They’d stayed that way for several moments, Cash yielding to his touch. It wasn’t long before Nick craved more submission from Cash—permission to do whatever he wanted to and with his body. He’d placed Cash’s hands against the windows and spoke against his ear, “Brace yourself.”
Nick had been a novice at rimming, an act more intimate than he’d been willing to attempt until that moment. He’d used Cash’s moans and whispered supplication to guide him. Nick was never sure if it was his skillful tongue or the act of submission that had driven Cash to orgasm, but it was one of his fondest memories…ever. Right below it was seeing Cash’s palm prints on the glass and the smeared cum from their failed attempt to clean it. His favorite memory was Cash’s pink-cheeked embarrassment as he made Nick an omelet for the first time. He’d chopped, diced, and cooked while Nick debated the methods to get cum off glass. Cash had finally shut him up with a kiss and a down and dirty blow job on the stool. Nick had been half-cocked and ready to fire the entire time, so his omelet was still piping hot after their shared orgasm. Cash wore Nick’s spunk on his face and chest while wiping his own off the floor.
“Did you remember to clean your cum off the penthouse glass before your cleaner showed up on Monday morning?” Nick asked.
It was Cash’s turn to stumble a little, and he tightened his hold on Nick. “What in the world brought that up?”
“I think it was the omelet,” Nick said. “And I was trying to distract myself from thinking about how bad my shoulder aches. My brain latched onto that night and the following morning in your penthouse. So did you get it clean?”
“Of course.” Cash’s voice sounded tight and pained. Did those memories hurt him? That was the last thing Nick wanted to do. “Here we are.”
It took Nick a moment to realize they’d arrived in the kitchen without further incident. Cash had guided him to the massive island and stopped by a stool just like the infamous one in the old kitchen. Nick studied it closer. Nah. Cash still owned the penthouse in Denver and used it whenever he went there on business. Surely he’d purchased a similar design when he built the ranch house.
“Would you prefer a traditional omelet or egg whites?” Cash inquired before Nick worked up the courage to ask if this was the blow-job stool.
“Regular,” Nick replied. “You still haven’t converted me.”
Cash snorted. “It’s not a religion. Just a healthier way to eat the things you love.”
“And I love egg yolks.”
“Traditional omelet it is,” Cash said with a nod. The bright kitchen light revealed that Cash’s hair was more salt than pepper now, but it only made his eyes look bluer. Silence washed over the open and airy kitchen as Cash pulled ingredients from the refrigerator and set them on the island. The only noise that followed was Cash’s knife cutting through peppers, onions, and mushrooms on a cutting board. His movements were quick and precise, unlike the time Nick had spent in the man’s bed. Then, Cash had been slow, deliberate, and very thorough.
“Careful, you’re listing to the left,” Cash said.
Nick looked down at his crotch, where his dick slumbered, before meeting Cash’s gaze. “I always have.” That earned a snort and a slight blush from Cash before he returned to assembling the omelet on the stove. Nick raked hungry eyes over Cash’s untucked shirt, long legs, and bare feet. “I got lost in thought.”
Cash glanced at him over his shoulder, and a cute smirk tilted the corner of his mouth. Nick knew how to coax a genuine smile out of him. “Do I even want to know?”
“Where had you planned to go tonight?” Nick asked.
Cash’s shoulders stiffened ever so slightly, but Nick caught the subtlest change in body language. “Dinner with a friend.”
“A guy friend?”
Cash’s posture didn’t change, but Nick heard the catch in his breath. “Yes, a man.”
“A date, then.” I am too late. It was the second time since he’d arrived that a variation of the thought had echoed through his mind.
“Not a date,” Cash replied too quickly, and Nick narrowed his eyes. Cash’s shoulders heaved with an enormous sigh, and he added, “Not to me, anyway. I think Burke has other ideas.”
Seth Burke, the county sheriff. Nick had checked him out when Cash had brought up his name in consecutive conversations. Hadn’t a part of Nick braced himself for losing his best friend then? How much time could Cash possibly make for Nick while juggling the ranch and a new love interest? Cash had stopped mentioning the guy, so he figured nothing had come of the relationship. Maybe the silence meant they’d grown closer, and their bond was precious and worth protecting.
“Think or know?” Nick pressed, sounding more like an investigator than a friend.
The stiffness returned to Cash’s shoulders, making Nick even more suspicious. Why wouldn’t Cash look at him? He scooted off the stool to cross the room, but Cash turned from the stove with a skillet in hand. He set it down on a trivet and removed a plate from the cabinet. Nick eased back onto the stool without tipping over.
“Fine,” Cash replied stiffly. “I know Burke has other ideas. I was going to use dinner tonight to let him know there could never be more than friendship between us.”
“Why?” Nick nearly slipped and mentioned how smoking hot the man was. But then he’d need to explain why he knew what the sheriff looked like.
A pained expression flashed across Cash’s face before he could lower the veil on his emotions. “We don’t have… There’s just no…”
“Spark?” Nick offered.
“Yes. I’m to the point in my life where I want something deeper and more meaningful than I’ve settled for in the past.” Cash sighed. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t crave crackling chemistry.”
