Bare for You: Outback Skies, Book 3 (6 page)

Ryan bit back a low groan at the innuendo in Jeremy’s words. Jesus, the bloke was going to send him around the twist with lust.

“I’ve heard a man can discover a lot about himself after just one day in the Outback,” Charlie answered as he dropped back into his own seat, watching Jeremy with seemingly casual interest.

Jeremy inclined his head in a single nod. “I can see that. I’ve definitely been moved more than once since arriving. I wasn’t quite prepared for the impact it’s had on me.”

Ryan’s head spun. His balls continued to throb, now as hard and swollen as his cock.

Charlie arched an eyebrow. He studied Jeremy with a relaxed smile, the kind Ryan knew meant he was far from relaxed. The kind that normally preceded him kicking some idiot’s arse. Or throwing someone in lockup. “You going to be able to leave the Ridge the same man as you were when you arrived?”

Jeremy’s answering laugh—as relaxed as Charlie’s and just as telling—played hell with Ryan’s senses. “Ask me again in four days, Chuck.”

Whatever Charlie was looking for, searching for, he apparently got it. In a heartbeat, the composed menace radiating from him vanished. “Will do. So what’s on your agenda today? I take it you don’t require any police protection, given I haven’t heard from your assistant in the last twelve hours?”

Jeremy chuckled. “Ah, I see Linda has been her usual efficient self?”

“She has.” Charlie waved over the barkeeper, ordered them all a round of beers and then grinned at Jeremy. “Now there’s a CIA agent if ever there was one. Do you know she told me about the potential security issues a federal minister might face here, including the possible harassment from the property owners who still feel betrayed by the deputy prime minister’s decision to allow coal gas seam mining here. And she was very specific about what contact you would have with the family of the man who burned down Broken Downs. Which is none, by the way. That was an order that didn’t just come from her, but the PM himself.”

If Jeremy was unsettled by Charlie’s mention of the politically motivated arson attack on the deputy prime minister’s homestead last year, he didn’t show it. Instead, he snagged a peanut and shelled it. “So, Charlie, tell me what I need to know about my pilot here.”

Ryan cocked an eyebrow. “Pretty certain I’ll tell you anything you want to know, Minister.” He reached for a peanut himself, shelled it and popped it into his mouth. “All you’ve got to do is ask.”

If Jeremy had a response, the arrival of the barkeeper with their beers stopped him.

Instead, Charlie filled the silence with a ribald laugh. “What if he asks you about the night you spent in lockup last month?”

Ryan rolled his eyes, lips twitching. “Jesus, Baynard, you would bring that up.”

Jeremy turned an expectant smile on Ryan. “A night in lockup? You mean I’m flying all over the Outback with a criminal?”

“Yep.” Charlie sniggered, shooting Ryan a pointed look. “You want to tell him why or shall I?”

With a melodramatic sigh, Ryan shook his head. “I still insist I did nothing wrong.”

“Nothing wrong my arse,” Charlie replied with a grin.

Jeremy reached for his beer, his smile wide. “The suspense is killing me.”

“Hey—” Ryan shelled another peanut, “—if a man can’t run naked down the main street in this country to prove he’s got nothing to be ashamed of, I say the laws of the country need to be reassessed.”

Jeremy’s eyebrows shot up his forehead. Behind his lenses, his gaze flicked in the direction of Ryan’s groin for a heartbeat. “I’m sorry?” Laughter danced on his words. “You did what to prove what?”

Charlie smirked. “Taylor and Matt Corvin, the doc you met just a while ago at the Royal Flying Doctors Service HQ, were arguing over who had the biggest balls last month after…err…let’s say one too many drinks in this fine establishment. Both were adamant they were the proud owner of the biggest set.”

“We’re not talking actual size here,” Ryan cut in, feeling the need to defend the moment. Inside, a warm glow of delight spread through him at Jeremy’s reaction to the tale—genuine joy and good humour. “We’re talking courage. Bravery. The doc insisted his were bigger, given he’d been shot at by Somali militants and spent a good part of the previous year in a life-threatening coma in a Sudan hospital. I insisted mine were bigger because I’d spent just about every weekend of my teenage years and well into my early twenties riding crazy bulls hell-bent on killing me in the national amateur rodeo circuit.”

Jeremy gaped at him, his beer clearly forgotten in his hand. “You did what?”

Ryan couldn’t stop the slow grin stretching his lips as he held Jeremy’s gaze with his own. “I rode bulls.” He tossed the peanut into his mouth. “Big ones.”

“So—” Charlie licked at the beer moustache on his top lip, “—the two of them decided the only way to clear it up was to see who had the cojones to streak the length of Main Street buck naked. At the very moment a tourist bus pulled in.”

Jeremy studied Ryan, his eyes alight with mirth.

“A tourist bus,” Charlie went on, “full of grey nomads.”

“It was perfect timing,” Ryan pointed out, retrieving his fresh beer from the table. “The doc bailed the second he saw all those senior citizens with their cameras slung around their necks and I won.”

“His prize for winning was a night in the lockup.” Charlie took another drink, licked away his beer moustache and then chortled. “And over thirty phone numbers from the highly impressed seventy-somethings who witnessed his mad dash.”

Ryan swallowed a mouthful of beer before grinning at Jeremy. “If I’d been looking for a sugar daddy or cougar that day, I could have scored big time. Some of them weren’t that bad either.”

Jeremy gaped at him for a silent moment, stunned disbelief on his face. And then he threw back his head and laughed.

Ryan’s chest constricted at the wonderful, honest sound. His cock—erect and still trapped at an uncomfortable angle in his jeans—throbbed.

“That,” Jeremy said, wiping at his eyes, his face split with a wide smile, “is the single most impressive reason for spending a night in jail I’ve ever heard.”

Charlie flicked an askew glance at Ryan, a knowing light dancing in his eyes. “And on that note—” he rose to his feet, drained his beer and wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand, “—you must both excuse me. I’ve got to get back to work. Secret CIA stuff to do and all.”

Jeremy laughed with genuine mirth, also rising to his feet. “Good to meet you, Senior Constable.” He shook Charlie’s hand. “Thanks for filling me in my pilot. It’s good to know.”

Charlie grinned. “Hey, when it comes to my mates, I’m all about painting them in the best possible light, nefarious indecencies and all.”

The look Jeremy gave Ryan stilled his heart. “I’m a politician. Nefarious indecencies maketh the man, in my opinion.”

“So it would seem,” Charlie said, studying Jeremy with unreadable contemplation. “Ryan, I would say if you’re not going to be good, be good at it, but when it comes to doing what you do, you’re as good as it gets.”

There was no doubt in Ryan’s mind his friend wasn’t talking about piloting the chopper.

With another smile, Charlie turned to Jeremy. “Minister. I’m sure you’re going to enjoy the rest of you time here with us. I know you’re in good hands with the flyboy here.”

And with that, he walked from the table, the cuffs on his hips chinking with each step he took as he exited the pub.

For some stupid reason, Ryan’s mouth grew dry as he turned back to Jeremy.

For some other stupid reason, his stomach suddenly flooded with a horde of butterflies.

“So…” he croaked, lifting his beer to his lips as he stared at the man sitting so close to him he could smell his aftershave, and yet so far, far away his body ached with denial. “Come here often?”

Chapter Six

The afternoon dragged on. For the first time in his life, Jeremy found himself wishing he were somewhere apart from an art gallery. It wasn’t that the artworks within the small building weren’t breathtaking and evocative. They were. Jeremy had always been fascinated with traditional Aboriginal art, and the works hanging in the Mutawintji Winds Gallery were some of the most mesmerizing he’d ever seen.

Nor was the gallery director—a woman with an obvious appreciation and respect for the indigenous artists represented within the walls of the building—boring or fatuous. Her knowledge of fine art and her sharp wit should have made for a highly entertaining, enriching afternoon. Her undeniable sensuality and subtle flirting should have provided Jeremy with the perfect moment to feed his reputation as a ladies’ man.

Even the mayor, now dressed in a short-sleeve shirt covered with Aboriginal dot paintings of emus, was pleasant to be around, mainly because he hardly uttered a word and deferred to everything Beverly Fisher said.

And yet Jeremy found himself fighting to not check his watch.

Constantly.

Finally, with afternoon tea eaten and the schedule for the official gallery opening discussed and finalized, Jeremy found himself stepping from the building into the late afternoon sun.

Dry heat wrapped around him with greedy haste. It wasn’t the extreme Outback weather that sent a prickling flush over his body, however.

Ryan waited for him directly outside the gallery, leaning against the wheel arch of his pickup. With ankles crossed, long legs looking like sin in snug denim and a blue-collared work shirt highlighting his physical perfection, it was all Jeremy could do not to cross to him and claim his lips with his own.

Levering himself from the pickup, the heli-musterer adjusted the placement of his Akubra on his head, his eyes hidden by dark sunglasses. “Ready?”

Deciding it was wiser to avoid responding until he had some control over himself, Jeremy turned to Barnaby Doyle now standing beside him. “Thank you for the day, Mayor,” he said, shaking the man’s sweaty hand. “Are you joining me tomorrow on the trip to the Pandjikali community?”

Doyle spluttered out a no. “Official Wallaby Ridge business to attend to,” he offered as an excuse, unable to meet Jeremy’s eyes.

Jeremy suspected the smile he gave the man was not the easygoing smile he was known for. “I see,” he said, reclaiming his hand from the shake. “In that case, I will see you the day after for the gallery opening, yes?”

“Would you…” Doyle fidgeted on the spot. “That is to say, my wife and I would be honoured if you joined us for dinner this evening. It is no hassle to drive you back to Broken Downs after.”

Drawing a slow breath, Jeremy let his smile turn apologetic. “Alas, like you, I have
official government business
to attend to.”

The not-so-subtle jab at the mayor’s barely concealed racism was not Jeremy’s usually style.

Neither, however, was the undeniable, increasing urgency to be alone with a man he barely knew. And yet that’s exactly what was controlling Jeremy now. The desire to be alone with Ryan Taylor. In his pickup, in his chopper, in the air, hell, even on the ground out in the middle of whoop whoop. He didn’t care where. Just as long as he was in Ryan’s company with no one else around them.

No. Desire was the wrong term. It had moved beyond desire. It had become a compulsion.

Without another word to the mayor, Jeremy turned and walked to Ryan.

“You sure you’re ready to go now?” The slight twisting of Ryan’s lips told Jeremy the heli-musterer was teasing him.

He nodded, his pulse pounding in his throat.

He’d spent the afternoon with a semi hard-on. Now, with Ryan’s masculine scent seeping into his body via every breath he pulled, the semi quickly became a full-on erection.

Rigid and fully engorged in the time it took Ryan to open the passenger door of his pickup and hold it open for Jeremy. “Then let’s get to it then.”

Get to it.

God, Jeremy wished he knew for sure the getting to it Ryan spoke of was the same getting to it Jeremy hoped and ached for.

The fallout of this may destroy you, Jeremy. You know that, right? If word of this ever gets out, your career is over. No matter how charismatic you are, no matter how good Linda is at her job, no matter how good your spin doctors are at theirs, if what you hope is about to happen does in fact happen, and becomes known to the public, any hope of one day being elected the prime minister is gone.

Every muscle in his body tighter than tight, Jeremy looked straight into Ryan’s sunglasses-covered eyes. “Where are we going?”

Ryan regarded him. “Wherever you want to go.”

Jeremy swallowed. “You told me on the very first day I arrived in Wallaby Ridge you were the one who was going to take me to the heavens and back. Do you remember that?”

Jaw bunching, Ryan nodded. “I do.”

Jeremy smiled. “Then let’s get to it then.”

He dropped into the passenger seat of the pickup before Ryan could respond, buckled himself in and then looked up at Ryan, his gaze direct. “Ready?”

Ryan’s chest rose and fell. His nostril’s flared. His Adam’s apple jerked up and down the strong brown column of his throat. “Are you?”

Heart smashing like a damn canon in his chest, his ears, Jeremy nodded.

Ryan didn’t move. Jeremy couldn’t help but notice the way his grip on the edge of the door turned white-knuckled.

“Are you sure?”

“I have never been more sure of anything.”

A low groan—a sound of utter surrender—vibrated low in Ryan’s throat.

Without a word, he swung the passenger door closed and strode around the front of the pickup, heading for the driver’s side.

Jeremy watched him.

His whole body thrummed with elemental energy. Charged want.

His cock throbbed in his jeans. His head roared. His mouth turned to dust.

And then Ryan was buckling himself in behind the steering wheel. The heli-musterer did not look at him. Jaw clenched, he fired up the pickup’s engine and floored the accelerator.

They drove in silence to Ryan’s helicopter. Jeremy was ninety-nine percent certain Ryan pushed the legal speed limit the whole trip. Fifteen minutes of tense, strained silence made all the more suffocating by the extreme heat in the cabin.

By the time they pulled to a halt beside the helipad, Jeremy could barely draw breath.

He’d never felt like this. There were no words to define his current state.

Aroused.

Impatient.

Anxious.

Terrified.

Alive.

All suited and none suited.

All Jeremy knew was he was balanced on the cusp of a moment too…too…primitive to deny.

Yanking on the handbrake, Ryan killed the engine of his pickup, released his seatbelt and turned to face Jeremy. He stared at him, eyes still hidden by his glasses despite the sun sitting low in the western sky, one elbow resting on the steering wheel, the other on the back on his seat.

Jeremy stared back, chest heavy, balls aching.

“Are you—”

“Sure?” Jeremy cut off Ryan’s strangled question. “I am.”

“Why?”

Surprised, Jeremy frowned. “Why what?”

Ryan removed his sunglasses. An unreadable tension burned in his eyes. “How can you be sure I’m not going to sell my story to the media? I googled you. No one knows you’re gay.”

An invisible hand wrapped Jeremy’s wild heart and squeezed. He didn’t look away from Ryan, didn’t break their stare. “I can’t be sure,” he answered, the honesty to his declaration more profound than he’d expected. “But I can’t deny how much I want to fuck you and be fucked by you either. So I guess I’m placing my life and my fate in your hands.”

Ryan’s nostrils flared again.

He studied Jeremy, motionless. And then turned and alighted from the pickup and crossed to his chopper.

Jeremy followed, gut churning and twisting.

He couldn’t help but notice Ryan’s hands shook as he unlocked the chopper’s passenger-side door.

Wordlessly, the heli-musterer pulled the door open. His gaze locked on Jeremy’s again for a heartbeat, and then he rounded to the pilot’s side.

Neither broke the silence as Ryan started the chopper, ran a systems check and took off.

The powerful thrumming of the aircraft’s engine vibrated through Jeremy’s body as they rose higher into the now dusk sky, and yet it was insignificant compared to the anticipation consuming him.

Ryan’s deep breaths sounded through the headphones covering Jeremy’s ears. He could hear the man’s attempt to keep himself under some semblance of control with every ragged exhalation. That Ryan was trying so hard to control himself only elevated Jeremy’s arousal.

In his jeans, his cock pulsed, engorged to the point of pain with impatient blood.

Closing his eyes, he forced himself to draw in his own meditative breaths. If he didn’t, he feared he’d come before Ryan even had the chance to touch him, either with hand or lips.

Christ, don’t let that—

The buzzing vibration of his phone in his hip pocket made him flinch.

The device was still set to only let through calls and messages from the prime minister and Linda.

Shooting Ryan a quick look, he tugged his phone from his pocket and checked the screen.

The message there was from Linda.

“The deputy PM just announced on ABC radio his retirement from politics. Knives have already started sinking into backs. Blood has already been drawn. Are you ready?”

Staring at the words on the screen, Jeremy digested their weight. Their unspoken meaning.

“Yes.”
He typed back.
“You need to be.”

He hit send and then turned his phone off.

Completely.

“Everything okay?”

He jumped at Ryan’s voice in his head. Swung his head to meet the man’s sunglasses-concealed gaze.

The second—the very second—he looked at him, Jeremy knew the answer.

“Everything is the way it should be,” he said.

And he reached over the small space between them and cupped his hand over the hard bulge of Ryan’s jeans-trapped groin.

Ryan had intended to fly Jeremy back to Broken Downs. Had intended to land on the far side of the building, away from the resident staff cottages. Had intended to walk the minister into the building, confess he wanted him more than was rationally possible but then leave without succumbing to the burning desire threatening to undo him.

It was too dangerous.

He would never divulge Jeremy’s secret to anyone. That was not what worried him. He wanted the man too much. There was a ferocity to the desire he felt for Jeremy he couldn’t comprehend. It petrified him. He’d never felt this level of aching, craving want for a person before. Never felt this level of connection.

It was all well and good to fuck each other senseless, but Ryan suspected he’d never be sated of Jeremy Craig’s body. Or company.

Better to walk away—or fly away, in this case—than suffer the torment of tasting that which he could never have again.

The moment Jeremy pressed his palm to Ryan’s dick, however, those adamant plans of self-control were destroyed. Crushed by the concentrated pleasure of a simple touch.

Incapable of doing anything else, he searched the shadow-covered ground below for somewhere to land, and almost wept with relief at the sight of a grass-surrounded billabong a few hundred yards to the east.

Without uttering a word to Jeremy, he directed the chopper towards the Outback oasis.

“We’re landing?”

He flicked Jeremy a quick look. For an answer, he covered Jeremy’s hand on his groin and squeezed Jeremy’s fingers with his own.

The raw sound of frustrated pleasure that fell from Jeremy’s lips, along with the way his eyelids fluttered closed and his face etched with impatience, came close to causing Ryan to crash the chopper.

As it was, the landing was far from smooth.

Ryan was beyond caring.

A heartbeat after he switched off the engine, he yanked his seatbelt off, grabbed Jeremy’s head and took savage possession of his lips.

Jeremy met his brutal hunger with equal force. His tongue lashed over Ryan’s, wild and demanding.

Ryan caught it, mated with it and sucked it into his own mouth.

Jeremy groaned, grabbing at Ryan’s shirtfront and tearing it open.

The sound of fabric tearing, buttons popping, filled the chopper’s interior. As did the raw pants and groans bursting from Ryan as Jeremy shoved Ryan’s torn shirt off his shoulders and claimed Ryan’s right nipple in his mouth.

Jeremy sucked, hard. Fierce. Bit at the puckered tip of flesh and sucked again.

Ryan hissed, his cock swollen with exquisite agony, and tugged Jeremy’s head up from his chest, crushing his lips again with a punishing kiss.

They fumbled at each other’s bodies, clothes, their tongues and teeth mauling each other’s flesh. At some point, Jeremy pulled his glasses from his face and threw them aside. When Jeremy reached for Ryan’s belt, Ryan flattened his hands to the man’s chest and shoved him backward.

“Get out,” he demanded, breath choppy, voice hoarse.

Jeremy stared at him, expression stricken.

“I can’t suck your fucking cock while we’re stuck in here, can I?”

Jeremy shoved open the door behind him and damn near launched himself out of the chopper.

Ryan met him at the aircraft’s nose. He hooked his fingers into Jeremy’s shirt and tore it open.

“Jesus,” Jeremy moaned, unbalanced by the force of Ryan’s savage undressing.

Ryan grabbed at the hair at Jeremy’s nape and jerked their bodies together, once more claiming Jeremy’s mouth as his own.

Jeremy’s chest slid against Ryan’s, his smooth warm skin like velvet. Their nipples dragged over each other, their bellies did the same. As did their trapped erections, the bulge of Jeremy’s cock rolling like a rigid pole against Ryan’s.

He groaned into Jeremy’s mouth, bit at his lip. Pinched Jeremy’s right nipple even as he reached for the man’s belt buckle.

With a ragged noise—somewhere between supplication and hunger—Jeremy tore his lips from Ryan’s and moved them to Ryan’s throat. His collarbone.