Ranch Manny - B.A. Tortuga Page 0,42

Idris Elba.

“Cool.” Brent flopped down on the other end of the couch, wiggling his bare toes, which were oddly cute. “You okay?”

“Mm-hmm. Long day, but good.” He sipped his beer, letting it relax him. “You?”

“My feet are sore.” Brent chuckled. “Got stepped on a few times, but I’ll live.” He tipped back his beer too, that long throat working, which always made Trace think naughty thoughts.

“Well, that’s good. I’m pro you living.”

“Yeah?” Brent gave him a sideways grin. “Me too. You know, you need a day off.”

“Yeah, I probably do, but I’m not sure the girls will separate for a day.” And what was he going to do alone these days? His friends felt a million miles away, somehow. He was living a totally different life. He went to town a few times a week and talked to a handful of other parents.

“Hmm.” Brent moved a little closer, peering at him. “Would you maybe rather all of us did something fun? We could go over to Dripping Springs, maybe hit Hamilton Pool and have lunch at the Salt Lick?”

“Yeah? I’d love that. Really. And so would the kids. How about you? Sound fun to you?”

“It sounds great. I love it over there.” Brent’s grin widened into something kinda white-hot and intimate.

“Well then, let’s do it. I love the water.” God, I bet you look like a Greek god in trunks. Nothing holding up the cloth but a little drawstring. Damn.

“Cool. We’ll reserve a spot at the pool.” Brent leaned toward him a little more. He got it. He felt drawn to the man like a magnet to true north.

“Good deal. I-I think that sounds good.” His voice had gone all husky and rough, and he licked his lips.

“Yeah. I do too.” One more scoot and their knees were touching.

Oh damn. He hoped Brent didn’t notice how fucking hard he was right now. Or maybe he hoped Brent did notice.

Brent leaned in, hand on his leg. “I’m fixin’ to kiss you, Trace. If that’s not okay, tell me now.”

“It’s okay. More than okay.” He put his beer down and pushed close, their lips meeting, then clinging.

Brent moaned into his mouth, tongue pushing in to taste him. They both had that beer flavor, so that was okay. He opened up, whimpering as Brent’s hand cupped his head.

This wasn’t an easy exploration. It was a good, deep kiss from a man who knew what he wanted. That was so hot he had no idea what to do except try to give as good as he got.

When he pulled back, he found himself in Brent’s lap, straddling the strong thighs.

Brent took a deep breath, staring right into his eyes. “Wow.”

“Yeah. Hey. Can I do it again?” He figured it was worth a shot.

“God, yes. I want more.” Brent drew him again.

“More.” He was all over that, and he dove back into the kisses.

They were making out like teenagers all of a sudden, hands moving, mouths not parting for more than seconds. He worried he’d fallen asleep and was dreaming this.

But if so, he was having the time of his life, macking on his fantasy man, so he dug his fingers in at the back of Brent’s neck, where the hair was getting too long and curling, and held on.

They rocked together—not nasty, not grinding. Not yet. But it was coming.

At least he hoped so.

Brent smiled against his mouth, which was amazing, because he wanted people to laugh with him during sex.

“I didn’t know you were into hipsters, cowboy.”

“No? I’ve been looking, honey. Hard.” Brent took one of his hands and eased it down to Brent’s crotch, which had a very hard part.

He couldn’t have stopped his moan for love or money, and his fingers curled around the heavy prick, running along the seam of Brent’s jeans.

“Mmm. Oh, that’s good.” Brent arched a little, giving him a bit of a ride. He loved it because it was like what Brent did every day but sexier.

“It is.” And he wanted to see it, taste it. Everything. First, though, more of those drugging kisses.

Brent gave just what he needed, rubbing against his hand, pushing up against him. His head was spinning with it.

He groaned, diving into the kiss, telling himself it wasn’t insane to hump his boss on the sofa with the kids in their rooms.

Trace knew he was full of it, but he couldn’t care. Brent was gay like him, wanted him, was loving on him. How could he not take that chance with both hands?

Especially