Bare for You: Outback Skies, Book 3 (9 page)

Ryan was that man, and Jeremy wanted to join with him in every way possible.

Sinking fully into Ryan’s flesh, Jeremy let out a ragged groan, the pleasure of the physical possession heightened by the open pleasure on Ryan’s face.

“Fuck, that feels right.” Ryan stared up at him, his chest heaving. “So right.”

Jeremy couldn’t argue. He’d never experienced anything more right.

“I was made to fill you,” he murmured, not in the least embarrassed by the cheesy sentiment of his declaration.

“You can say that again.” Ryan chuckled and closed his eyes, his face contorting with new pleasure as Jeremy began his first backward stroke. “Ah geez, ah fuck, here we go…here we…”

Jeremy slammed back into Ryan’s arse.

“Yes!” Ryan cried out, grabbing his cock—standing rigid and erect—and pumping it hard.

Delirious rapture surged through Jeremy at the sight. He drew back again, to the rim of his cockhead, tightened his grip on Ryan’s bent leg and sank into him again.

And once again, the honest pleasure on Ryan’s face turned the coupling into something so much more profound.

A lifetime later, bodies glistening with sweat, stares locked, ragged breaths in sync, they both came.

Together.

“Fuck, Jeremy,” Ryan ground out, choking his dick with savage strokes. His ejaculate spurted from him in thick white streams and splashed onto his belly, his chest, the base of his throat. “I can feel you coming. I can feel your come as it leaves your…”

The rest of his awed declaration was lost to a groan as Jeremy bent forward and licked a wad of Ryan’s release from his throat.

“Holy fuck,” Ryan rasped, stroking the back of Jeremy’s head.

The gentle touch filled Jeremy with a warm glow of sheer contentedness and he straightened onto his knees, trailing his fingertips over Ryan’s chest, seeking out his semen. Its viscous texture under his fingers made his mouth fill with saliva.

He released Ryan’s leg, not even remotely interested in hiding his moan of dismay as his spent cock slipped from Ryan’s arse. “You can say that again.

Ryan grinned up at him, that sexy hint of a dimple in his right cheek flashing. “Holy—”

Jeremy kissed him silent.

And then proceeded to lick every drop of Ryan’s come from his flesh, until they were both hard again.

Chapter Nine

“It’s beautiful.”

Ryan opened his eyes and twisted on his back enough to cast Jeremy a curious look. “What is?”

Jeremy did his own twisting, rolling his head on Ryan’s stomach until he could smile at him. “Dawn. Dawn doesn’t look like this in the city.”

A warm weariness thrummed in Ryan’s body, the sensation a wonderful testament to the night’s activities.

Seven hours of lovemaking. Seven hours of exploring each other’s bodies, each other’s pleasure. Each other’s desires.

In that seven hours, they’d discovered they were both ticklish under their balls, both turned on by being bitten on their nipples and were both reduced to giggling immature schoolboys by fart jokes.

In that seven hours, Ryan had accepted the fact he’d never meet anyone like Jeremy again.

It was both a euphoric and tormenting realization.

They lay on their backs on the blanket, both still naked, Jeremy’s head resting on Ryan’s stomach, Ryan’s fingers drawing lazy patterns over Jeremy’s chest. They’d been talking about their childhood, sharing moments of personal joy and sorrow as they recovered from their last round of soul-rocking sex.

Ryan was all too aware they’d used the last condom. Just as he was all too aware their night together was rapidly running out.

At Jeremy’s acknowledgement of the rising sun, sorrow flowed through Ryan’s happiness.

He turned his attention to the pale pink smudge stretching across the distant eastern horizon. Above it, the sky was a deep purple, the night stars still twinkling in its fading darkness.

“What does dawn look like in the city?” he asked, determined not to wallow in misery. They had until the sun broke completely free of the horizon. It was a ridiculous, self-imposed timeframe, but one Ryan had to exert. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t take Jeremy back to Wallaby Ridge. He’d seduce him into staying here, out in the middle of nowhere, and spend the rest of the day making love to him over and over again, condom or not.

Fucked. You’re totally fucked, Taylor. And well on your way to falling totally in love as well. You know that, right?

“Cluttered,” Jeremy answered, studying the sky. “And somehow…less clear.”

Ryan drew a slow breath, cursing the way the pink smudge grew lighter, wider before his eyes.

Silence stretched between them. Ryan couldn’t decide if it was torturous or peaceful. He’d never been so conflicted.

“I know you’re based in Wallaby Ridge.” Jeremy’s voice, calm and yet at the same time hesitant, broke the stillness. “But you spend a lot of time flying around the Outback, yes? Mustering stock on contract?”

“That’s right,” Ryan answered, moving his fingertips to the subtle six-pack of Jeremy’s abs. He’d spent quite a bit of time last night licking their mingled come from that six-pack. His cock twitched now at the memory, eager to relive it. “Why?”

“I was thinking…” Jeremy shifted on the blanket, turning his gaze from the damn sunrise to Ryan. “Whenever you’re in the Ridge…on weekends…I was thinking I’d like to come out and…and see you.”

A prickling tension stole over Ryan at Jeremy’s suggestion. His throat thickened. His heart thumped fast in his ears. “You think that’s wise? Won’t the Aussie taxpayer question why their dollars are being spent on you constantly flying out here?”

“Not if I pay for it with my own money.” Jeremy regarded him, his expression unreadable. “You don’t want to? See me again, I mean?”

Ryan groaned and stretched flat onto his back, staring up at the sky overhead—still dark with the soon-to-be-gone night. “You have no idea how much I want to see you again. In fact, the thought of you leaving the Ridge makes me sick. But I’m an openly gay heli-musterer. Think about what the press would do with that if they became aware of who you were flying to the Outback to visit.”

“It would be none of their business,” Jeremy declared, anger in the words. It was the first time Ryan had heard the emotion in him. It surprised him. And tore him apart.

“It would become their business, Minister.” He used the title deliberately, returning his gaze to Jeremy’s face. “You’re an elected official. A public figure. No matter how much you want to believe otherwise, what you do with your private life is very much their business. And before you argue with me, think about the reason you’ve remained in the closet all these years. I doubt it has anything to do with the opinion of your family, and everything to do with the opinion of your peers…and the voters.”

Ryan wished he could take back the blunt observation the second it left him. It wasn’t meant to be as cutting as it came out.

As harsh.

Jeremy stiffened. He stared at Ryan, his jaw bunching.

“I didn’t mean—” Ryan began.

With a shake of his head, Jeremy rose to his feet. “I forgot to let the resident staff at Broken Downs know I wasn’t returning last night,” he said, turning away from Ryan. “I need to call them so they know I’m alive.”

Hot guilt and dismay balled in Ryan’s gut. He sucked in a deep breath, climbing to his own feet. “I left my phone in the chopper,” he said, his throat dry. “I’ll go check if anyone’s left any messages.”

Scooping up his discarded jeans, he shoved first one leg and then the other into the worn denim. From the corner of his eye, he saw Jeremy reach for his clothes as well.

It’s done then. Finished. Probably for the best.

The bleak thought turned the ball in Ryan’s gut to a cold lump.

Without looking at Jeremy, he tugged on his boots and then crossed to where his helicopter sat a few yards from the billabong’s grassy edge.

“Fuck,” he muttered. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.”

This was not how he wanted it to end. There was no fantasy romantic ending to what he and Jeremy had shared, there couldn’t be, but he hadn’t wanted it to end this way.

Opening the pilot-side door, he reached in and retrieved his mobile phone from a small compartment in the chopper’s dash. At the sight of Jeremy’s glasses on the floor, his stomach churned. Jesus, who would have thought only a few moments ago he was thinking of going down on Jeremy one more time. A blowjob to say thank you and goodbye.

It seemed he was going to give the minister his glasses instead.

“Fuck,” he muttered again. “Fu—”

His phone vibrated in his hand.

Dropping his attention to it, he saw a recent-message reminder flash on its screen.

A message from Charlie sent, according to the phone, six hours ago.

“Watch your heart, mate. The PM is planning on announcing Craig as the new deputy PM in the a.m.”

The words sliced through Ryan like a hot blade. An invisible band wrapped his chest, tighter than a vise.

He stared at the message, hating it.

He’d known he and Jeremy had no future, but until he’d read this, a tiny part of him had been foolish enough to entertain the notion of a clandestine, long-distance relationship with the man. Had pictured weekends spent hidden away in his home on the outskirts of Wallaby Ridge, doing little but making love to each other and just being together.

Now…

“Fuck,” he whispered.

“I’ve just received a call from the prime minister.”

Ryan jumped at Jeremy’s calm statement. He turned, biting back a groan at the sight of the man—fully dressed and composed—directly behind him.

The minister through and through once more, even with his torn-button shirt.

“I need to get back to the Ridge,” Jeremy informed him, his expression detached. If it weren’t for the haunted light in his eyes, Ryan would think the time they’d spent together was already forgotten. “I’m returning to Sydney as soon as the gallery opening is finished.”

“Con—” Ryan caught his strained congratulations before it could finish forming. He had no real idea if the text Charlie had sent him was correct, but he had no reason to doubt it. He also had no reason to doubt the fact Jeremy was about to become Australia’s deputy prime minister was not public knowledge as yet. If he congratulated Jeremy on his appointment, Jeremy would want to know how he knew. And that would open a whole can of worms neither was prepared for.

“Okay,” he said instead. “Let me just get dressed completely, pack up and we can go.”

Jeremy nodded. Without a word, he walked around the nose of the chopper, opened the passenger door and climbed into the passenger seat.

Ryan watched him, aching for a way to destroy the cold tension now between them, even as he knew it was for the best.

When Jeremy began tapping out a message on his phone, his expression set in serious concentration, Ryan turned away from him.

It really was better this way.

Better that Jeremy was leaving the Ridge ASAP. Better there was no lingering fantasy about a future for them.

Better all round.

Ryan just wished it didn’t hurt so fucking much.

“The PM is about to call you. He’s going to ask you to be the deputy. Are you ready?”

Jeremy reread Linda’s text—sent over six hours ago—for the tenth time. No, make that the twentieth time.

Are you ready?

Those three words taunted him, even now that he was back in Sydney, sitting in the backseat of a limo, heading for the prime minister’s Sydney residence.

They’d taunted him through the duration of the tense flight back to Broken Downs, a flight where neither he nor Ryan said a word.

They’d tormented him as he’d packed up his stuff at the ex-deputy PM’s homestead.

They’d mocked him during the equally silent flight from Broken Downs to Wallaby Ridge. Who would have thought less than twenty-four hours ago those very three words forming on Ryan’s lips would have made him so excited? So nervous and aroused and determined?

Are you ready?

No matter how many times he’d tried to break the silence between them, he couldn’t.

Because Ryan was right. Flying out to the Ridge whenever he could just so he could escape the lie of his existence and live the life he truly wanted with Ryan was foolish.

Are you ready?

Those three words had continued to haunt him as—public smile and persona firmly in place—he’d opened the art gallery. Had continued to condemn him as he’d said his apologies to the mayor.

When the plane had arrived from Sydney, those three words had screamed through his head.

When Tabatha, the same flight attendant from his incoming trip who’d offered to assist him in any way he desired, reiterated the offer, those three words scraped at his sanity.

Laughed at him.

He’d come so close to taking Tabatha up on her offer. He’d even let his hand move to the back of her thigh as she poured him a drink.

And at the soft, silken touch of her stocking beneath his palm, his stomach had lurched and he’d recoiled. As if burned.

Watching the security gates of the prime minister’s Sydney residence slowly part now, he gripped his phone and thought of his assistant’s text message one more time.

Are you ready?

The limo came to a halt outside the main doorway of the PM’s Sydney residence. Before the driver could kill the engine, the leader of Australia strode from the building, smiling broadly at the back window.

Are you ready?

No, he wasn’t. Not at all.

Not for the future he’d planned for himself the day he entered politics.

Prime Minister Jeremy Craig.

That had been his goal, his dream.

And with the appointment to deputy prime minister, that goal would be one step closer to reality.

Reality? Huh. A reality disguised as a lie. That’s the reality you’ll be living. Are you ready for that?

Christ, he felt sick.

The back door opened, the prime minister’s smile stretching wider as he peered in at where Jeremy sat. “Craig. Did you enjoy yourself in the Outback?”

Climbing from the limo, Jeremy shook the PM’s hand and gave him a friendly laugh. Inside, he was a churned-up mess. “I did, sir.”

The prime minister slapped him on the shoulder. “Sorry to drag you back early, but there’s something I wanted to tell you, ask you, and I didn’t want to do it over the phone.”

Jeremy affected a puzzled expression. “What’s that, sir?”

The PM grinned. “Are you ready for your life to change, Craig?”

Before Jeremy could answer, he tossed a nod in the direction of the open doorway. “Come inside. We need scotch for this.”

Are you ready?

It wasn’t Linda’s text that haunted Jeremy this time. It was Ryan’s voice, Ryan’s question, loaded with double meaning, ripe with desire.

Jeremy watched the leader of the country stride back into his Sydney home, his gut rolling. Ready for his life to change? His life had changed. The second he’d touched down in Wallaby Ridge and seen Ryan Taylor, his life had been altered irrevocably.

Drawing a deep breath, Jeremy buttoned his suit jacket and followed the PM inside.

“So,” the man said when behind the closed doors of his private office, “you no doubt know the position of deputy PM is up for grabs.”

Grin wide, he poured Jeremy a double shot of scotch, handed it to him and then poured his own.

Jeremy nodded, taking the glass. His stomach rolled again at the notion of drinking. Or maybe it rolled at the question he knew the prime minister was about to ask? “I do.”

Damn, his throat was tight.

Replacing the crystal stopper on the scotch decanter, the PM raised his glass. “A toast?”

Jeremy swallowed. “To?”

The PM tapped his drink to the edge of Jeremy’s. “To Deputy Prime Minister Jeremy Craig.”

Are you ready?

“I think,” Jeremy said as the prime minister lifted his glass to his lips and swallowed a mouthful of scotch, “there’s something I should tell you first.”

A wary tension fell over the PM’s face. He studied Jeremy, his stare—famous throughout the world’s leaders for its direct, intelligent menace—unwavering. “And that is?”

“I’m gay.”

The second the words past Jeremy’s lips, he felt instantly lighter. Relieved. And strangely calm.

At peace.

The PM’s stare didn’t flinch. “I don’t give a fuck, Craig.” He took another sip of scotch, watching Jeremy over his glass’s rim. “As long as you keep it in the closet.”