STORY EXCERPT

Spencer “Doc” Hall had never seen a more heart-wrenching sight. Locked in a cage, abandoned, the man would have died without them showing up on the Wyoming farm. As things stood, he still might. Doc had gone with the other men of the Rough River Ranch to try to find answers for their newest member, Cody, but instead they’d found only more questions and the man Doc had dubbed Chance. If anyone needed a chance in this world, the man they’d found caged on the remote farm was just such a man.

Carefully, Doc opened the cage, hoping like hell that Chance didn’t just run off. But he needn’t have worried. He was so weak that he’d barely been able to lift his head and acknowledge their presence.

“How long do you think it’s been since he’s eaten anything?” Dooley, the ranch veterinarian, had called Doc over to the outbuilding when he’d discovered Chance.

“I don’t even want to speculate.” Given how much his ribs were showing despite the layers of filth, it had probably been several days, but Doc doubted the men who’d held him captive had fed him with any regularity. “The only reason he survived was because he had access to water.”

There was some kind of scuffle at the main house where the other men were investigating. When Doc heard them talking about a fire, he looked at the battered building Chance was being held in and the long, dry grass that surrounded the ramshackle structure. One spark could set the entire spread ablaze. Summers in Wyoming were just about as dry and unrelenting as they were in Utah, but Doc still couldn’t wait to get back home.

“We have to get him out of here.” Dooley reached into the cage, but Chance whimpered and backed away. “Help me out here, Doc.”

Unsure if adding two large men to extract him would do anything but terrify him more, Doc was stunned when Chance’s gaze connected with his. A timeless moment spun out. In those tawny depths there was a wary, animal intelligence that called to the hunter in Doc. Not to give chase, but to claim. Doc shook off the notion. All he wanted to do was get this man back to health, and then help him return to his rightful home. Certainly, this farm of horrors wasn’t where he belonged.

“I swear, I’m here to help you.” Doc offered out his hand.

Chance stared at him for a long time. Given that Doc was six and a half feet tall and two hundred fifty pounds, it wasn’t much wonder that the diminutive man would be intimidated. At best, Chance was five two and maybe one hundred pounds. The only things that stood out under the layer of dreck that covered him was his uniquely colored eyes and the emaciated state of his body.

Doc was on the verge of retracting his offered hand and trying something else when Chance reached out and clasped it. His grip was weak, but the fact that he gave any sign of acceptance was nothing short of miraculous.

Carefully, Doc brought him forward. “Get a blanket or something to cover him up with. I don’t want him to feel any more exposed than he already does.”

From the side area where a gruesome array of tools was kept, Dooley found a surprisingly clean blanket. “Will this work?”

The cover was old, soft, and small, but it smelled like it had been dried in the sunshine. “It’s perfect. Thank you.” Doc slipped the blanket over Chance’s hunched shoulders. For a moment, he was worried that Chance wasn’t standing all the way up because he was afraid of being hit, but then Doc thought he might simply be too exhausted to stand tall. And then he looked at the cage the man had been kept in. It wasn’t big enough for him to stand up. If he’d been contained in there for any length of time, which Doc thought he had, Chance would have to relearn how to stand. Hell, he was probably going to have to relearn how to walk considering the awkward steps he took.

“Do you want me to carry you?” Dooley asked.

Chance shrank into Doc, clutching at his hips the way a frightened child hides behind the safety of a parent.

“He really seems to like you.”

Doc considered Chance’s head. His hair was a long, shaggy mess of what looked like mud, leaves, and bits of colored thread. Curious, Doc reached down to work one of the strands loose, but Chance looked up at him. Another soul-pulling glance made Doc acutely aware of himself in relation to Chance. He’d never felt so powerful. But what was different was that he didn’t feel brutal. The power he had wasn’t about might being right but the strength of firm convictions and solid compassion.

“I think I like him, too.” Doc smiled down at Chance, who tilted his head the way a dog does when a curious sound is heard. And then Chance lifted the edges of his lips in mimic of Doc’s smile. It was a strange sight to see. Chance was copying the motions, but the sentiment wasn’t behind the action. Clearly, the man wasn’t happy, and Doc didn’t blame him. “We’ll take you to safety.”

“No more cage?” Chance’s voice was husky and so dry it almost sparked when he spoke.

“No more cage ever. I swear. Cross my heart.”

ADULT EXCERPT

Doc tried to stop himself from lowering his head and kissing Chance, but once he started the descent, he couldn’t seem to stop. He just wanted so much to protect him, to reassure him, to wipe away every bit of horror that Chance had ever suffered. When the contact came, Doc felt a spark flash across the surface of his skin and ignite something primitive in his brain. Chance’s mouth was soft, and when Doc increased the pressure by pulling him closer, Chance uttered a whimpering cry of surrender that pressed even deeper into the primordial center of Doc’s baser urges.

All the excuses he’d tossed up to keep them apart fell away in a pure moment of shared comfort. Chance had been through so much, and Doc wanted to do anything, everything, to help him get past the pain. Their bodies meshed perfectly. Chance was smaller, and with his head back, he was at the perfect height to press against Doc in all the right places. Turning into his embrace, Chance hungrily clung to Doc, his hands sliding up to his shoulders. Chance dug his fingertips in as if he was afraid Doc would make him let go at any moment.

Part of Doc insisted he do that right now. This was morally, ethically, and even spiritually wrong. Chance was hungry for safety, and Doc represented that to him, but he could never be what Chance needed. When he was once again secure in the world, his wants would change. He’d wake up and realize he’d hitched himself to an old man who wouldn’t be able to keep up with him. Oh, but how good he felt in Doc’s arms. His body was firm and solid, squirming deliciously against him. When their cocks—both hard—rubbed together, Doc swore the friction almost made him climax.

Doc wasn’t sure what made him lift Chance up and settle him on the countertop, but he did. Maybe the idea was to set him there so he could move away, but he didn’t. Doc parted Chance’s legs, stepped between them, and ground their cocks together, all without missing a beat from their penetrating kiss. Lifting his legs, Chance wrapped them around Doc’s hips. By locking his ankles together, he was able to tighten his legs and pull Doc even closer. Friction made heat, and each movement was bringing him closer to climax. When Chance rocked his hips, working his body tightly along Doc’s, he reciprocated.

How long had it been since he’d taken a lover? Doc couldn’t even remember the last man’s name. His face was there in the recesses of his mind, but the rest of the details about him were lost. He’d worked at one of the clinics Doc visited during his drive across the US. The man had been like Chance—small, submissive, sweet—but he’d also been hungry for status, something that Doc had no intention of giving him. He’d wanted a big house, shiny cars, and all the trappings of wealth. Doc wanted exactly what he had now. A little house in the country and the satisfaction of doing an honest day’s work for an honest day’s pay. What he made on the Triple R wasn’t much, but Doc didn’t need a lot to be happy because his joy came from within, not without. To even have one night with Chance would be a blessing. Just one night to remember what it was like to be touched and physically loved by another man.

Grasping his high, tight buttocks into his hands, Doc pulled Chance off the counter and plastered him against his body. The sound Chance made was music to Doc’s ears. He answered in kind by growling and groaning as he lifted and lowered Chance in a mimic of sex. Each pass made them wilder. Each grinding press lifted his need until nothing was going to stop him from finding release.