Reese groaned softly when Brantley teased and tormented before finally fisting his cock. His touch was featherlight but more than enough to awaken every nerve ending in Reese’s body.
Tilting his head to the side, he gave Brantley access to his neck as warm lips caressed his skin.
He let himself be touched, enjoyed the attention, admired the confidence he felt in Brantley’s movements. The man could bring him pleasure unlike anything he’d ever known. He found it interesting how the rest of the world could fade away, even if only for the briefest of moments. Nothing else existed except for the two of them. Right here. Right now.
Reese turned in Brantley’s arms, needing to solidify the connection. He palmed Brantley’s head, pulled him closer until their lips fused. Leaning into the tiled wall, he let that kiss take him to new heights, enjoying the way Brantley explored his mouth. Always seeking, always searching, as though there was something new to find.
Reese’s hands wandered, gliding over slick skin. He was content just like this, although his body was prepping for more, his cock throbbing incessantly, the need for release igniting.
Brantley never pushed, his hand continuing to stroke Reese’s cock. Up, down. Slow, steady. It was enough for Reese’s heart to beat harder, faster, his breaths rasping in and out of his lungs.
Then the kiss broke and Brantley’s forehead rested against his, but his exquisite touch never disappeared.
“Come for me,” Brantley whispered as they both watched what Brantley was doing to him.
Reese groaned, his fingertips digging into Brantley’s hip as he held on, fought the insurmountable pleasure for as long as he could until…
“Fuck,” he groaned low in his throat, knees turning to jelly as his release barreled through him.
And then Brantley’s lips were back, his tongue leisurely sliding into his mouth as he came down from that incredible high.
“I love you,” Reese whispered, needing Brantley to hear the words, to know he meant them.
Brantley pulled back, their eyes met, and what he saw sated Reese on a different level.
“I love you, too,” Brantley whispered. “More and more every single day.”
Those words … they were his anchor, even when he didn’t realize he needed one.
*
Not wanting to go home to an empty house, Trey decided to go to Moonshiners. It wasn’t that he necessarily cared for a beer, but it seemed a better option than going to the diner alone. It sucked to eat dinner by himself, whether at a restaurant or at home.
He’d spent the better part of the day with the task force, listening as they berated themselves for not being able to find one woman despite all the information they’d received in the past few weeks. He felt their frustration, mirrored it even, but for the life of him, Trey didn’t know how to fix this. He didn’t know how to get them what they needed so they could end this once and for all.
Then Brantley had suggested everyone go home and sleep on it. To get some rest so they could come back tomorrow with renewed purpose.
Trey knew sleep wasn’t going to happen because it had eluded him for weeks now. He was running on adrenaline and fucking hope, neither of which was sustaining him.
So this was the only option.
When he walked in, he saw Mack was behind the bar, and the familiar face relaxed something inside him. It seemed Mack was working less and less these days, shifting responsibilities to Rafe Sharpe. Sure, Trey liked Rafe, but he wasn’t the man they’d come to expect to be there, the one who would listen to their bitches and moans because that was his role as the small town’s bartender.
“How’s it goin’?” Mack greeted, his eyes both friendly and concerned.
Being that Mack was married to the sheriff, Trey figured he was up to speed on the case.
“Slow,” he said truthfully.
“Beer?”
He nodded as he took a seat, gave the room a cursory glance.
There weren’t many people in tonight, just a couple of old-timers sitting around shooting the shit, a guy and a girl back at the pool tables laughing and making eyes at one another.
Okay, so it turned out this wasn’t much better than sitting alone at a table for dinner. For whatever reason, he’d thought there would be a few more people than this out tonight. What with Valentine’s Day coming up and all, surely he wasn’t the only sad, lonely soul seeking a little bit of company.
“Thanks,” he said when Mack passed over his beer.
Before Trey could strike up a conversation with the bartender, the door opened.
He looked up as he took a sip, and instantly the brew went down a little harder.
There, strolling in and cutting a path right to the bar, was Magnus Storme. He greeted Mack with a smile and a nod, then motioned toward the end of the bar where Trey was seated.
Surely he wasn’t—
Yes. Yes, he was coming to sit down right next to Trey.
“Hey.”
Trey took another drink, not bothering to offer any pleasantries.
The smirk that formed on Magnus’s too-handsome face said he was amused by Trey’s obstinance.
“Why’re you here?” Trey finally blurted after the silence began suffocating him.
Magnus glanced at him sideways. “Didn’t realize it was an invitation-only place.”
“Are you stalkin’ me now?”
“Yes,” Magnus said matter-of-factly. “Yes, Trey, that is exactly what I’m doin’. I’ve been hangin’ outside local watering holes waitin’ for you to make an appearance so I could pounce.”
“You’re an ass.”
“I am, sure,” Magnus agreed.
So fucking agreeable.
“Why’re you really here?” Trey demanded.
Magnus glanced around as though checking to see who might be listening. The only other person within earshot was Mack, and he was currently typing something on his phone.
“I’ve decided I’d like a rematch.”
Trey snorted. “Yeah? And what makes you think I’m interested?”
“Are you sayin’ you’re not?”
Trey wasn’t prepared for that comeback, and the moment of silence was enough to give the impression that, yes, he was interested, which meant he had to lay it on thick.
“Not a chance. I told you. One night.” He gave a light shrug of his shoulder. “Wasn’t good enough the first go-round to warrant another.”
Damn it if that didn’t seem to amuse Magnus. The fucker chuckled softly.
“Keep tellin’ yourself that.” Magnus leaned in. “But we both know it was the best fuck either of us has ever had.”
Trey took a long swallow and stared at the back wall of the bar. He was not going to comment, nor would he give away any facial expression that might confirm that statement.
As far as he was concerned, it didn’t matter how fucking good that night was or how many times Trey had relived it in his dreams or used it as fuel for taking the edge off with his own fucking hand. He was not interested in a relationship, and as far as he was concerned, more than one night constituted something more.
Nope, he had every intention of remaining celibate. Even if it killed him.
Which, based on the tightness of his jeans at the moment, it very likely could.
*
Magnus could practically feel the tension coming off Trey, and he didn’t have to be a genius to know exactly what he was thinking about.