STORY EXCERPT

Marshal Roberts had seen a lot on his seven-hundred-thousand-acre ranch, but he’d never seen a bare-naked man tucked down for sleep in a field of grass. Marshal climbed off his horse and approached the man with all due caution. He didn’t seem to be a danger, but one never knew. What kind of a sane man took a nap in a field with a hundred thousand head of cattle running around in it? A crazy man. Or maybe a hurt one. Damn. The closer he got, the more it seemed to Marshal that the man—the very nicely formed man with dirty-blond hair—was injured.

Just as Marshal knelt down to inspect him, the man opened his eyes. Lord, have mercy. Not ever in his life had Marshal seen a man with eyes that color. They were riveting, hypnotizing, and seemed to be pulling his very soul out of his body. They were pale green, but not like any green he was familiar with. Not sage, or hunter, or even kelly green. No, this man had a green unique to him. Otherworldly green that was pale but for the darker ring around the iris.

“You okay?” Marshal offered out his hand.

The man’s beautiful eyes went wide, and he scrabbled backward by using his hands and feet.

“Whoa! Hey, I’m not going to hurt you.” Marshal lifted his hands palm out to his shoulders. It wasn’t a wholly unusual reaction to him. Since Marshal was on the big and tall side, the man’s gut reaction of terror wasn’t the first Marshal had encountered. “I’m trying to help you.”

He stopped moving backward, but he didn’t seem any less skittish.

“You got a name?”

The mystery man frowned as if he were thinking very hard, but he seemed unable to find an answer, because he shook his head while looking worried.

“You don’t remember?”

He just stared at Marshal with those wicked eyes of his.

“Okay. Well, why don’t you pick a name?” It probably wouldn’t mean anything, but the man might just pick his own name without knowing it.

“I like the name Elliot.”

“Then I will call you Elliot.” Because I can’t call you “sexy voice,” but damn, if I could, it would be entirely fitting.

Elliot grinned without showing his teeth, so Marshal gave him that same type of smile. The more he echoed the man, the more likely Elliot would remain calm and let Marshal help him. From Marshal’s experience, it was a technique that worked with both animals and humans.

“Do you remember how you got here?”

Elliot shook his head as he looked around. He touched the back of his head, winced, and when he pulled his hand away, there was blood.

“A head injury could explain your state.” Marshal rose, and Elliot’s eyes went wide again. Marshal could tell he was on the verge of scrambling back, but he relaxed when Marshal went to his horse. From the saddlebag he removed a green bandana and a bottle of water. He wetted the cloth, returned to Elliot, and then crouched down, handing the bottle to Elliot. “Drink some of this, but slowly, okay?”

“Thank you.” Elliot took the bottle and drank. He heaved a sigh of relief. “My mouth was so dry it hurt.”

A dry mouth could be simple dehydration or the aftereffects of drugs, but Marshal couldn’t even hazard a guess right now. Elliot’s eyes seemed clear as a judge’s. They weren’t bloodshot or glassy, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t been smoking, eating, or drinking something the night before. Elliot looked to be somewhere in his early twenties. That was about the age when most got involved in partying. Marshal never had, but he was the exception rather than the rule.

“Can I take a look at your head?” Marshal held up the wet bandana. “I can give you a little first aid.” And see if you got in a fight or if one of the cattle got to you. Although both scenarios seemed unlikely. The cattle weren’t full sized yet, but most weighed around five hundred pounds. If one of them had stepped on his head, they wouldn’t be having this conversation. The only person Elliot would be having a discussion with was his maker. A brawl seemed farfetched, too, because Elliot didn’t have any bruises or cuts on his knuckles. After running a ranch with nothing but men on it, Marshal intimately knew the hallmarks of a scuffle. His only other thought was that the coyotes he’d been battling for just about forever had gotten to him, but if they had, there wouldn’t be much of Elliot left for him to examine. So that meant it had to be something else.

Elliot nodded and leaned forward. He seemed to suddenly realize he was naked because he plunged his hands down to cover up his genitals.

“It’s okay,” Marshal reassured him. “I don’t know what happened to your clothes. We’ll look for them after I take a look at your head. Okay?”

“Okay.”

One word and what Marshal heard was pure sex. He had to get his mind off that trail of thought. This poor guy did not need a celibate rancher hitting on him. Besides, after seeing the same old faces day in and day out, some for over a decade, Marshal was just hungry to find a man to share his life and his bed with. That made his reaction to Elliot nothing more than a fleeting one.

ADULT EXCERPT

“Here. I guess I won’t need this anymore.” Elliot slowly and deliberately undid all the buttons Marshal had so painstakingly fastened. By keeping his head tilted down, Elliot gave the impression he wasn’t watching Marshal as he undressed, but he was. Marshal kept his gaze riveted to every move Elliot made. The lower his hands went against the buttons, the shakier Marshal’s breathing became. When Elliot reached the last, Marshal licked his lips like he was hungry for the reveal. To taunt him, Elliot shrugged the garment off his shoulders without showing himself. Once Marshal gave a frustrated grunt, Elliot allowed the shirt to part right down the center of his body. Marshal let out a sigh and flicked his hips. It was subtle but still a clear indicator of his interest.

Once Elliot had taken the shirt off, he offered it out to Marshal. “I’ll trade you.”

Marshal’s eyebrows rose, which lifted his hat.

“For the shirt Doc gave you. I mean, you can try to put that on, but I’m pretty sure it won’t fit.” Not with Marshal’s massive chest. His arms were darker than the rest of his chest, but not by too much. His chest was still plenty tan and sexy, what with all the muscles he was packing.

After looking at the shirt in his hand like he’d forgotten all about it, Marshal handed it over and took the one from Elliot. When their fingers touched, there was a shock of static electricity. Utah had the driest air Elliot had ever experienced. The knowledge jolted him because it was attached to a memory of another place that was humid. Overjoyed that his memory was coming back, he dropped the smaller shirt. Before Marshal could pick it up, Elliot crouched down to retrieve it and found himself staring right at Marshal’s crotch.

His jeans were faded almost to white in some places. To the side of his bulge, there was a small tear in the fabric that just a little bit of tugging would enlarge. Resisting the urge to get to work opening that, Elliot looked up at Marshal. Their gazes connected and locked. Marshal’s soft-blue eyes sharpened and turned smoky as he considered Elliot’s mouth in relation to his cock. When Elliot licked his lips and swallowed hard, Marshal gave another telltale flick of his powerful hips as his nostril’s flared.

As if lost in a dream, Elliot reached up and stroked his hand possessively against Marshal’s prick. You’re mine. He may not remember his name or what had happened to him, but that Marshal was his in no uncertain terms was crystal clear. No way was Elliot leaving him. Ever. Problem was, if he said that to Marshal, things might go very differently. So Elliot would tread lightly and keep his dangerous attraction to himself.

Marshal’s hand clapped over Elliot’s, and he thought for sure the magnetic rancher was going to push his hand away, but he didn’t. Marshal mastered his hand by pressing harder and sliding their sandwiched hands up and down the length of his cock. A long, low sigh slipped between Marshal’s tense lips.

Elliot’s mouth watered. God, he wanted to taste this massive man. He wanted to tease him just a bit more then please him fully. Carefully, keeping his gaze on Marshal’s eyes, Elliot eased his hand up toward the oval belt buckle. A golden engraved emblem of a man on a bucking bronco was attached to a silver oval. There was writing on the buckle from when and where Marshal had won it, but the trophy was so worn most of the engraving was gone along with half the fancy curlicues around the silver medallion.

Marshal lifted his hand and unfastened his belt as Elliot unzipped his jeans. The weight of the buckle pulled the fly of his pants apart, exposing his white briefs. A wet spot of pre-cum darkened the fabric above the tip of his cock. Without all the fabric crushing against him, his cock grew and stretched up toward Marshal’s belly button. Before he could change his mind and make him stop, Elliot rose up a bit, yanked down Marshal’s briefs, and sucked his cock into his mouth.

Marshal let out a slow ah of pleasure that told Elliot exactly how good what he was doing felt.

Elliot closed his eyes, lost in the sweet taste of Marshal’s pre-cum. The more he sucked, the more of the liquid ambrosia he brought forth.

Marshal hissed and parted his legs as if to steady his stance. His hand tentatively touched the top of Elliot’s head, teasing through the strands of his hair.

“So good. Your mouth feels so damn good.”

Hungry to taste his full pleasure, Elliot sucked harder and cupped his hand against Marshal’s balls. He wanted to drain him. To make him mine forever.