STORY EXCERPT

Bryce was just leaving Karl’s bunkhouse when Tristan rushed over to him, out of breath and excited.

“He’s here,” he said eagerly. “Tom Barrington, Councilor Steadman’s aide.”

“Oh, joy,” Bryce muttered.

“Bryce. I know what you think about politicians, but Councilor Steadman’s different.”

“If you say so,” Bryce said, heading toward the house. “Is this guy another obnoxious twelve-year-old?”

Tristan smirked suddenly. “I’ll leave you to find that out for yourself,” he said, changing course across the yard to meet up with Colby, who was standing waiting for him. “We’ll be in the barn cleaning tack if you want us to show Tom around later.”

“I already told you, no sex in front of the horses. I don’t want them traumatized,” Bryce called after him.

Tristan sighed loudly. “I’m teaching Colby to ride,” he yelled back reprovingly. “Horses!” he added hurriedly, and Bryce grinned. Tristan was so easy to tease that some days it felt like he was still fourteen years old.

Speaking of fourteen-year-olds…He pushed open the door, prepared for another snotty pen pusher like Taylor Cufflinks the Third, or whatever his stupid name had been. Because of that, it took him a moment to process that he was seeing what he thought he was seeing and that he hadn’t found himself in the middle of a really good dream. Except if it was a dream, presumably this guy would already be naked rather than standing pouring himself a cup of coffee while dressed in a crisp white shirt, open at the neck, and gray slacks that should have been illegal given the way they clung to the curves of a frankly spectacular ass.

If Tom Barrington was a pen-pusher, it was a pretty heavy pen he pushed on a regular basis, because those were definite muscles betrayed by the fit of his shirt. His hair was dark and just a little wavy, his cheekbones were sharply defined beneath flawless skin, and there was the suspicion of a five-o’clock shadow on his jaw, which somehow emphasized just how strong that jawline was.

Bryce was still staring when Tom looked up and gestured with the mug he was holding. “Hope you don’t mind,” he said, then paused.

Bryce was aware that he was being studied in return and stood a little taller, opening himself up for inspection by rich brown eyes. It seemed Tom liked what he saw, because he looked for longer than was strictly polite. Bryce grinned at him when his eyes returned to Bryce’s face, and Tom suddenly looked away, biting his lip slightly as if he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t have been. Even that didn’t stop him sending another look sideways at Bryce, and the combination of that with the way his teeth were sinking into his plump lower lip had Bryce’s stomach tightening with arousal. This security check might be a hell of a lot more pleasurable than he’d figured. And he was not thinking about Tom Barrington and body searches in the same breath, because that wasn’t helping things settle down in the least.

“Sorry to have kept you,” he said, and sat down at the table. “I figured you’d be another twelve-year-old.”

Tom stared at him, and then he grinned. It was a really good look on him. “I forgot—you had Bressingham visit you, didn’t you?”

“I wondered if it was ‘take your son to work day’ but mom or dad got lost en route,” Bryce said.

“He’s one of Cheung’s protégés. He’s got potential, apparently.”

“Or a daddy with deep pockets to contribute to a re-election campaign,” Bryce said, and pushed the sugar bowl across the table. Tom nodded in thanks and took a spoonful.

“So what do you need to know?” Bryce asked, all business again. The thought that the sooner they got business done, the sooner they might get to other things was not in his mind at all. No way.

It turned out to be pretty much what he’d expected. Tom broke out a tablet on which he already had a list of pack members’ names. He jotted down the brief additional details Bryce offered and asked some open-ended questions, which Bryce answered in a meandering way that gave away precisely nothing. Then Tom wanted to examine for himself the potential hostile zone.

“You mean the house and ranch?”

Tom’s lips curved again into that grin. It did something quite remarkable to what was otherwise a serious-looking face, and Bryce found he wanted to keep seeing it. “Sorry,” he said. “Occupational hazard, using jargon.”

“I hear you,” Bryce said. “Like when I exit the vehicle in the vicinity of the building, rather than get out of my car at home.”

The grin widened. “Is it okay if I take a look around? I’d like to see your territory as well as the house.”

Even though Bryce found himself smiling back, he was aware that there was a lively intelligence in those brown eyes. They might be smiling, but Tom’s focus on what he was here for hadn’t faltered in the slightest. Given the secrets that the pack was guarding, that made him a little dangerous.

ADULT EXCERPT

When he rounded the corner of the barn and finally saw him, he crashed to a halt. Because Bryce…Bryce might as well be doing a photo shoot for a porn site. Dear God,he was a wet dream come to life. He was stripped to his white undershirt, and his broad shoulders and muscular arms glistened slightly with sweat. His dark jeans clung to his long, lean thighs, while the large buckle on his belt drew Tom’s gaze to his crotch. Even the leather gloves on his hands had Tom shivering, washed with alternating heat and cold as he stared at Bryce, who was picking up a couple of beams. Muscles flexed in his arms and where his undershirt clung to his abs as they took the strain.

Becoming aware of his presence, Bryce dropped the lumber back onto the pile and looked up at Tom. And God, no matter how fucking gorgeous he was in every other way, it was his eyes that Tom loved. No artifice, no judgment—he had no doubt that, with Bryce, what you saw was what you got, and right now that was pleased surprise and fast-building desire.

“I—uh—yeah,” Tom said, because he had no words. No words except to say that how Bryce looked right now was like every dream he’d ever had of a perfect guy, and how he would spend the rest of his life remembering this moment.

Bryce didn’t seem affected by whatever it was that had Tom’s feet glued in place. His smile grew and he prowled across the open ground between them, his loose-limbed grace making Tom lightheaded. Or maybe it was the way all his blood had gone elsewhere that made the world swim around him, because his cock was hard as nails. His lips were parted as he tried to breathe, but that became more and more difficult as Bryce’s eyes darkened, his tongue flickered over his lips and his gaze was on where Tom was so obviously, desperately hard, his cock pressing shamelessly against the soft gray material of his pants.

Bryce closed the last few inches and the smile in his eyes had turned to want and urgency. His mouth on Tom’s was heat and need and so good, the taste of him dark and intense and everything Tom had ever dreamed of. Tom was rubbing against the long thigh Bryce had pushed between his legs, shameless and needing. And when Bryce pulled his shirt out from his waistband and touched Tom, he shuddered all over, mewling into Bryce’s open mouth, because he was still wearing those leather gloves and the feel of soft leather on his skin did something to Tom nothing else ever had. He was gasping, his eyes closed, as he tried not to come in his pants like a teenager.

Bryce tore his mouth from Tom’s and buried it in his neck while his gloved hands swept over Tom’s back, and then one of them was on his chest. Supple leather, warm from Bryce’s body, was rubbing over his nipple. Tom whimpered. “Please,” he got out.

Bryce slowly unzipped him, every snick of the zipper an unbearable tease. The gloves didn’t make it easy for him, but he was very clearly not going to discard them any time soon, and as he eased Tom’s pants and underwear over his hard cock, Tom had never been more glad of anything in his life. Because oh, fuck—soft, warm leather surrounded his cock while Bryce’s tongue was pushing into his mouth and he wasn’t going to survive this. He was rutting into Bryce’s hand, mindless and wanting, blind with need, aware of nothing except Bryce and how good this was.

“Easy, there,” Bryce whispered into his ear, his breath hot and doing nothing to help Tom. And then he was moving Tom, who went willingly wherever it was Bryce was pushing him, till he found himself pressed up against the wall of the barn, sun-warmed wood beneath his hands and against his cheek as he heard Bryce’s jagged breathing and the rasp of his zipper opening.

“God, how are you so—?” Bryce asked, his voice rough and wild, like the feel of a full moon. He nudged Tom’s legs further apart, and pressed up against him, his cock so hot and hard against his ass as Tom whimpered and tried to position himself so Bryce could just push into him. But instead there was the cool slickness of a lubed finger pushing inside. For an insane moment, Tom wanted to groan with disappointment that it wasn’t the leather glove inside him, opening him as he writhed and pushed back on the fingers inside him. “Please,” he gasped again, “Bryce.”

And then Bryce was holding him open, one hand still gloved and one not, and Tom couldn’t tell which felt better—the touch of leather, or Bryce’s skin on him—as Bryce pressed slowly deep inside, so hard and thick. Tom sobbed, pressing his cheek against the roughly planed wood. Its coarse texture grounded him as Bryce drove in, again and again, fucking him harder and faster than he’d ever been fucked before, and feeling so damn good, deep inside him.