Page 31

“Having a beer?” Dalton teased, voice husky, rough.

“Kissing you.” He wanted that and so much more.

“This time I’ll put my bottle down first.”

“Good idea.” He rubbed his beer bottle against his neck, the little cold shock giving him goose bumps.

Dalton stared, lips open, eyes wide. Oh, that felt good, the weight of all that hunger.

“You hot, Dalton?”

“Burning up.”

“The beer thing works pretty well.” He hoped Dalton might rub it on his chest. Those little nipples would draw up from the cold….

“You think?” Dalton took another sip, one of the beads of condensation slipping off the bottle and dropping to that bare, smooth chest, making Dalton’s muscles ripple.Oh fuck.

Tank stared, knowing there was no hiding his hard-on. That was about as hot as Hades. He wanted, but he was okay with drawing out the tension now he knew Dalton wasn’t gonna kick his ass. Or try to.

“You look at me like you want to eat me alive.”

“I do. I want to just rub all up on you.”

Dalton spread a little bit, making room for the heavy cock swelling between his thighs. It created a perfect bulge in the soft sweats.

Tank had to remind himself they were outside in plain sight. Otherwise he would have been right on it.

Dalton didn’t bother with making small talk; he sat there and watched him like he was fucking fascinating.

The shampooer cut off inside, and they both heard the door open and close. Tank stood, jerking his head toward the room.

Dalton finished his beer and rolled up, those loose, thin sweats hiding nothing.

He was damn near panting by the time they got inside, his jeans rubbing him all kinds of right ways.

Dalton reached out and took his bottle from him, put both on the low table before going to lock the door.

He hummed, meeting Dalton halfway so he could grab that fine ass. He pulled Dalton close, then kissed the mouth he’d been staring at.

This taste was full of hops, and this time Dalton met him more than halfway, lips crashing against his. They swayed a little, both of them touching, trying to get a feel for what they were doing. It was so easy to push into Dalton’s sweats, grab hold of that tight ass. Dalton’s skin was surprisingly soft. Maybe he figured a man who sat in the saddle that much would have ass calluses.Whoa. Bad thought.

It was easy to push aside because that sweet little backside was tight and hard, and the way it pushed into his hands was pure magic. Tank squeezed, moaning, just about on fire already.

Dalton traced his chest, tugging at his shirt, baring him. This was no shrinking violet, no sir. Dalton had always known what he wanted, Tank guessed. He just wasn’t off-limits anymore. The kisses went on and on, growing teeth as their need ratcheted up.

He slipped one hand around Dalton’s hip to the front of his sweats, wanting to feel the hard cock that rubbed against his through too many layers of cloth.

The pure heat made his eyes cross, and he wrapped his fingers around the hard length. He measured it from base to tip and back again—damn impressive.

“That is one fine piece of rope, Dalton.”

“You got you some good hands. I been wanting to know forever.”

He leaned his forehead against Dalton’s. “Well, now you know, huh?”

“I’m fixin’ to, I think.”

“You are.” Anything Dalton wanted to try, short of dressing up in chicken outfits or something. Hell, he might even go there, if Dalton asked nice.