Troy's Surrender (4 page)

“Not yet,” Rafe said. A second finger slid inside and Troy let out a whimper, trying to push back more without losing his balance. “You’re not quite ready yet. Just another finger. Give me a second.”
“Rafe!”
Rafe’s chuckle was almost as beautiful as that hum. A third finger entered Troy, stretching and rubbing. Rafe brushed his prostate, just a quick little touch, and Troy shouted. He arched his back, nearly spilling onto the mattress.
“Now, please, Rafe. I’m ready, swear to God, just give it to me!”
“Okay, honey, okay,” Rafe soothed. “I’m coming.”
Those magic fingers slid away. His ass clenched, trying to keep them in. Troy couldn’t help it, even though he knew something better was coming.
Fabric rustled as Rafe shifted, foil tearing. A swift kiss was dropped onto the curve of his spine. Then Troy felt the welcoming brush of something much larger than a finger rubbing against him.
Rafe started to push in carefully, slowly. Troy wasn’t having any of that. He balanced his head between his arms and pushed back forcefully. Rafe slammed into him. They both yelled.
Troy breathed through the sharp burn and stretch, waiting for the tightness to fade. Rafe held himself still until he felt Troy relax.
Troy wiggled in his ropes, concentrating on relaxing his ass and taking Rafe in all the way. His cowboy finally slid in that last little bit and Troy groaned in ecstasy. That beautiful cock brushed his sweet spot and Troy gasped.
“Ready, honey?” Rafe sounded about like Troy felt, control almost gone.
Troy gave a little nod of encouragement, beyond words now. The feelings surging through him were so overwhelming they didn’t leave any room for thought.
Rafe moaned his relief and pulled back, only to slam back in with such force that Troy was shoved farther up the bed. The sheets bunched underneath him with each stroke. So close, just a little more…
Rafe grabbed his hips and yanked him up farther. Troy shouted a protest as the new position left his cock brushing air instead of mattress. His protest died when one of Rafe’s hands slid around him and wrapped around his cock. Rafe’s fist tightened, sliding up and down with a rhythm maddeningly out of sync with his thrusts. Troy struggled, orgasm just out of reach. He was really gasping for air now. He didn’t feel so bad, though, because Rafe wasn’t in much better shape. Rafe was breathing hard, too, and Troy could feel sweat dripping onto his back.
Rafe shifted his angle just a tiny bit and began slamming into his prostate with each thrust. Troy nearly screamed as his balls drew up. Rafe’s long, guttural groan was the only warning before heat filled him. Rafe’s stomach muscles tightened where they rested against Troy’s back as the cowboy came in long bursts.
Troy could feel Rafe wanting to collapse, but his lover kept stroking his cock. The callused pads of his fingers ran over the head of Troy’s cock a bit roughly and that was just what Troy needed to push the long buildup over the edge. With a yell loud enough to rattle the windows, Troy arched and spilled onto the sheets.
They collapsed in a sweaty pile of melted goo. At least, Troy was melted goo. He couldn’t really say the same for Rafe, but the man felt pretty relaxed, sprawled half on top of Troy.
They lay together for several blissful minutes. Unfortunately, as Rafe stirred, Troy could actually feel the other man starting to think again. Troy buried his head into the pillow to muffle his groan of protest.
Rafe pulled away slowly, their bodies trying to do that weird sweat-bonding thing. Rafe gave Troy one last caress before reaching over. The ropes slid away and Troy regretted their loss. Rafe rubbed at the burn marks left behind.
“Sorry,” he muttered.
“It’s fine,” Troy mumbled, still buried in the pillow. He didn’t really want to see Rafe’s expression go from all melty back to stony.
Rafe shifted to sit on the edge of the bed and Toy reluctantly rolled over. His cowboy had a look of confusion written on his harsh features. Troy reached out to touch Rafe’s shoulder, but the man jerked away from his touch.
“Damn it…I shouldn’t have…what the hell do you do to me?” Rafe stood and thrust his fingers into his hair, pacing agitatedly.
Troy shoved himself onto one elbow and called the man’s name softly. Flashing green eyes glared at him, muscles still bunching as Rafe strode the floor.
“I don’t
do
this,” Rafe burst out angrily. “I don’t sleep with men I barely know and I
never
sleep with men I don’t trust.”
“You trust me,” Troy said quietly.
“The hell I do!”
Troy bit his tongue before he said something else, something he might regret. But he knew he was right. Rafe
did
trust Troy or he would never have given in to the lust between them, no matter how hot that lust burned.
“You’re thinking too much,” Troy said instead. “Come lay down. You’re tired and stressed and everything will look better after some sleep.”
He received a sour look in return. “It’s the middle of the afternoon.”
Troy tried to shrug, aborting the move when it almost unbalanced him. He bunched the pillow under his side until he could get into a more comfortable—and stable—position. “I know what time it is. When was the last time you slept?”
“Last night.”
“For how long?”
Rafe’s silence was answer enough. The poor guy had probably been up most of the night. Pacing, if his current actions were anything to go by. No wonder the man was so beautifully built. All that walking.
Rafe dropped onto the bed with a sigh. Troy tugged on the broad shoulders until the man finished dropping, right next to Troy.
Rafe gave in, burying his face into the pillow. The material barely muffled his annoyed growl.
Troy stroked the sleek muscles of Rafe’s back until the tension eased and the man slid into an uneasy sleep. Troy wasn’t under any illusions. If their energetic bout of sex hadn’t worn Rafe out so much, his cowboy would never have given in.
As Troy curled up to the big, warm body next to him, he decided he would take what he could get. Just so long as he got to sleep next to Rafe. He’d channel Scarlett some more and worry about their next step tomorrow.

Rafe was gone when Troy woke up again. He wasn’t surprised, not really. And Troy told himself firmly that he wasn’t hurt, either. It didn’t change the sour taste in his mouth. Especially when Rafe practiced extremely effective avoidance techniques for the rest of the evening. Troy spent a restless night, tossing and turning and wishing he had the courage to walk down the short hall to Rafe’s bedroom. Only the certain knowledge that the other man would toss him out kept the urge at bay.

Troy shoved the ledger book aside in frustration. He’d spent most of the afternoon transferring the penciled entries into the computer and studiously avoiding any thoughts of yesterday. The numbers were probably all screwed up, he kept feeling Rafe’s touch, and that blasted look of hurt and anger just wouldn’t leave his head, no matter how hard he tried.

He shoved back the leather chair, the rollers catching on the carpet and nearly dumping him to the floor. Troy cursed and staggered to his feet.

He hadn’t seen Rafe in hours. Hell, Rafe probably thought Troy was long gone. Or maybe not. Usually, Rafe was around the barns at multiple points during the day, but Troy hadn’t caught so much as a glimpse of that familiar form, despite spending nearly three hours hanging around and looking. Hell, he’d even mucked out stalls, just to try and waylay his cowboy.

Yeah. His. Sometime during the longest night of his life, Troy had reached a few conclusions. Number one being he wasn’t going to give up that easily. Didn’t matter how stubborn Rafe tried to be. Troy was stubborner…more stubborn…whatever. He wasn’t leaving. Not without trying his damndest to get Rafe to forgive him. After all, everyone made mistakes, right? Right. So what if his was bigger—a lot bigger—than most. The size of his screw-ups had never stopped Troy before and they weren’t going to stop him this time, either. Not when it really mattered.

Troy stretched and looked out the window, wondering absently if he should try to make something for dinner. A peace offering, if you will. The fact that he couldn’t cook was, of course, completely irrelevant.

His inner musings shut off completely as his eyes focused on the trees outside the window. What the hell? The branches were blowing nearly straight to the side. Now that he was paying attention, the sound of the wind whipping along the roof and ramming into the house was incredible.

Troy cursed and ran for the front door, grabbing his boots on the way. He hopped down the stairs, trying to yank them on and not break his neck. The sky overhead was a mass of whirling clouds, thick and heavy with rain. As if his thoughts conjured them, the first few drops hit the ground.

Troy ran for the barn where Jason was struggling with the leads of three horses. Troy grabbed one, urging the white-eyed animal into the barn. They secured the trio and raced back for the rest.

Thunder rumbled in the distance, a loud growl that seemed to move closer before it ended. The sky to the east was slowly taking on an alarming green tinge.

“Chip’s with the mares,” Jason said.
“Go help him,” Troy ordered. “I’ll get the rest here.” Jason nodded and took off. Troy made quick work of gathering

Troy was securing the doors on the main barn when the two cowboys joined him.
“Where’s Rafe?” Troy yelled over the rising wind. Several shingles blew off the side of the barn and he ducked to avoid being smashed in the head.
“He headed out to the north pasture to check on Brutus!” Chip yelled back.
Brutus. Rafe’s one and only breeding bull. His prize stud. Sometimes Troy thought Rafe loved that bull more than the entire ranch, horses included.
“Shit,” Troy cursed. The north pasture was no quick trek. “When is he expected back?”
“About an hour ago,” Chip admitted with visible worry.
“Who’d he take?” Counting the number of horses they’d tucked away, Troy knew the answer.
“No one. He walked.” Jason confirmed his suspicions.
The rain was coming down harder now, large drops that sent shivers crawling across his skin. Troy cursed Rafe for an idiot even as he made a run for the garage. Rafe listened to the radio, every morning, without fail. He would have known the weather was supposed to turn bad.
Troy didn’t realize Chip and Jason had followed until he slammed open the side door of the garage. The wind caught it and nearly ripped the thing off its hinges.
“What are you doing?” Jason asked.
“I’m going to get Rafe. I need you guys to stay here and keep an eye on the place. House is unlocked. If it gets too bad make for the basement. I know I speak for Rafe when I say you’re both more important than the horses.”
Troy yanked the cover off the nearest four wheeler. He’d been wanting to get his hands on one of these babies ever since his first day here. Too bad he wasn’t going to get to enjoy his little trip.
Troy climbed on and fired up the engine, checking the fuel gauge. Good to go.
“I’ll bring him back as soon as I can,” Troy yelled, this time over the roar of the engine.
“Got it, man,” Chip yelled back. “Don’t worry about us. And tell Rafe the same thing!”
Troy nodded. Jason hit the garage door control and Troy tore out of the building before the door even made it all the way up.
If Troy never had a ride like this one again, he could die a very happy man. The ATV kept bogging down on the sides of hills and he was forced to get off twice to shove the thing out of mud holes. The rain was coming down in sheets of blinding, stinging liquid, visibility down to only a couple of feet.
Troy shifted his weight forward, knuckles stark white where he gripped the handles. The wind buffeted his vehicle, threatening to tip it.
He cursed and eased back on the throttle as the tires slowed and caught on the wet grass, trying to stick into the ground again. Troy wiped the moisture from his face, squinting into the wind. His heart kept trying to join the lump in his throat and his hands were moist, not just from the rain.
“Come on,” he whispered. “Where the hell are you?” Lightning streaked the sky, jumping from cloud to cloud over his head. Troy flinched as thunder shook the ground under his tires.
The fence loomed up in front of him with heart-stopping suddenness. With the traction he was getting—or not getting, in this case—Troy didn’t bother trying to swerve. He just barreled right through, the wood splintering violently. Rafe could yell at him later.
The four-wheeler went into a skid on the other side of the fence, sliding for a good hundred yards before the breaks could grab hold and halt his momentum. Troy stopped with a jerk, breathing hard.
“Damn,” he whispered. Okay, north pasture. Good. Fantastic. Now if he could just get his hands to let go…
He shook violently from the adrenaline surge and it took far longer than it should have to pry his fingers off the handlebars. Troy flexed his fingers with relief, cramping a bit from the strength of his grip. He swung his leg over and dropped to the ground. The mud sucked at his feet and a sudden gust of wind had him staggering sideways. He nearly left his boots behind.
“Rafe!” he shouted over the thrumming rain. Nothing. He cupped his hands over his mouth and shouted Rafe’s name a few more times. He didn’t want to wander too far from the ATV if he could help it. The rain was easing a bit, but he didn’t know this area. It would be too easy to get lost in the weather. Troy wouldn’t do Rafe any good wandering the wilderness like a total idiot.
A low sound caught his attention. Troy walked in a slow circle, searching for any hint of movement.
There. Way over to his left. Was that tree moving?
Not a tree. Thank God.
He put his hands to his mouth again. “Rafe! Get your ass over here, you idiot!”
It seemed like forever before Rafe emerged from the gloom, water dripping off the brim of his hat. Splatters of mud covered him from head to toe, caking his jeans a solid reddish-brown all the way up to his knees.
“You okay?” Troy asked when Rafe was close enough that he didn’t have to shout.
“Fine. What the hell are you doing out here?”
“Looking for you, what else? Didn’t your momma ever teach you to come in out of the rain?”
“Smart mouth.” Those dark eyes darted past Troy. “What did you do to my fence?”
“I’ll fix it later. Come on.”
Rafe mumbled something, but he swung one well-muscled thigh over the seat, straddling the machine with the same ease that he sat a horse. Troy climbed on behind him.
“What, you not going to argue over who gets to drive?” Rafe grumbled.
“After the trip I just had? Hell, no. I’d be happy to never have to get on this thing again. But I think I’m catching pneumonia.” As if to prove the point, Troy let out a vicious sneeze. He decided not to tell Rafe about what now covered his back amid the mud splatters.
“Drive, would you?” he yelled into Rafe’s ear.
“Pushy, arrogant…”
Rafe revved the vehicle into gear and headed back toward the ranch. The wind picked up again, making conversation impossible. Troy was okay with that. He didn’t really know what to say to the man. All Troy had been thinking about was getting to the cowboy, making sure he was safe. Now, all he could do was go over the scene from last night. Again. Damn, this was why he’d left the office in the first place.
The drive back seemed to go much faster than the drive out. The thunder was rumbling with more frequency, but that alarming green tint had left the clouds. Troy might be soaked clean through to his briefs, but at least he didn’t feel like a visit to Oz was in his immediate future.
They hit a bump and Troy wrapped his arms tighter around Rafe, hands rubbing against the harshly defined muscles of his stomach. Damn, but what he wouldn’t give to see what he was feeling. Troy told his traitorous cock to behave.
It didn’t listen. From the slight stiffening of Rafe’s spine, Troy knew the other man had noticed. An alarming thing happened. Troy felt heat creeping across his cheeks. Hell, was he actually blushing? Not possible. He hadn’t blushed since the second grade, when Mary Stutemeier had pulled down his pants during the spring play. God, he’d hated her.
They hit another bump and Troy had to hold back a groan as he rubbed against Rafe’s firm back. Was that an answering groan? Nah, must have been his imagination.
The weather might not have been as wicked, but the trip back to the ranch now seemed to take twice as long as the trip out, just for a far different reason. Troy was kind of missing the hellish weather.
Chip and Jason were waiting in the garage when Rafe pulled to a stop.
“Glad to see you made it back in one piece,” Jason greeted them cheerfully.
“What the hell are you two doing in here?” Rafe asked in reply.
“Staying dry,” Chip said. “Have you seen the rain out there?”
“Shut up.”
Wow. If asked before now, Troy would have sworn that Rafe didn’t know how to sound that mean. Rafe did growly really well.
Unfortunately, the deep sound didn’t help his little personal dilemma—how to get off the four-wheeler without flashing his erection at three more people than he wanted to see it.
Rafe wiggled. It was at that instant that Troy realized he was still clutching the man around the middle. Damn. That
was
a blush turning his face bright red.
Troy mumbled an apology and practically fell off the vehicle. “Gonna…I’m just gonna get dry. I’ll…yeah.”
With that lovely, articulate sentence in parting, Troy fled to the safety of the house. Maybe, if he tried really hard, he could avoid Rafe for the next few days. Long enough to get the hell out of Dodge. It was probably far past time.