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“You’re not good at reading cues, are you? I don’t want company.”

“Too bad.” In a few strides, Dylan reached the workbench where he stood working.

The scent of soap only irritated him more. Did Dylan shower with Sloane? Soap up her body, working his rough hands over her luscious ass and fingering her tight pussy?

Dropping the oil cloth, he swung toward Dylan, fists clenched. “Did you come here to rub her in my face?”

Dylan’s eyes narrowed. That goddamn dimple in his cheek had a habit of popping in and out depending on how he moved his mouth, and right now, he seemed to be gnawing his cheek, as if holding back what he really wanted to say.

“I don’t know why you wanted her so bad.”

Shaw issued a snort. “The hell you don’t.”

“She’s gorgeous, yeah, but so are a lot of women who come to the ranch. You never got your tighty-whities in a bunch over them.”

So Dylan didn’t know. But why would he? Sloane hadn’t seen Shaw—if she had, she would have been on the first flight home.

Dylan eyed him. “Maybe it isn’t about her at all.”

He leveled his fellow Boot Knocker in a glare. “What the hell does that mean?”

Dylan took a single step closer to him. Barely an inch separated their bodies. If he glanced down, Dylan would see the bulge of arousal in Shaw’s jeans.

If he rocked closer, he would feel it.

His gut stirred with desire that he tamped down hard. He started to spin away, but Dylan threw out an arm, holding him in place.

Shaw froze. “You’d better back down, Dylan. You don’t want what I have to give you right now.”

He didn’t move. He’d never kissed a man in his life, but the strong pull to crush his mouth onto Dylan’s and see if he tasted like Sloane blazed through his body.

Dylan’s chest heaved. “Shaw…”

“Get out.” The gravel in his tone coupled with his command had Dylan dropping his arm. He took a step back, spun and strode out of the tack room.

Shaw watched him go, anger and need a dangerous cocktail to the spark of jealousy he felt knowing that the man put his hands on Sloane.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, breathing hard and fast.

Damn, his cock didn’t get the message that it wasn’t supposed to be turned on by Dylan’s hard body or close proximity. Not to mention the idea of tasting her on him…

“Fuck!” He flicked open his belt and whipped open his fly. His cock filled his hand before he even pulled it free of his boxer briefs. With a rumble, he fisted his stiff length.

Throwing his head back, he pumped his cock from base to throbbing tip. His mind blurred, oblivious to anything but the demands of his body. At this moment, he needed release, hard and fast. Raw and primal.

He growled at the sensations rushing through him. When an image of Dylan sliding into Sloane while she took Shaw’s cock in her beautiful mouth hit his brain, he jerked his hips.

Precum dripped from his cock. He swiped it with his fingers and used it as lube. Jacking faster and faster, he saw the saddle and smelled the oil he’d used on it minutes before. But his mind wasn’t here—it was with Dylan and Sloane.

His balls tucked up tighter to his body with each pump. Dark need whipped within him.

Breath puffed through his lungs but when the knot inside broke free, pleasure rushed over him. His spine bowed as he jacked his cock five more times, then a sixth.

How easy it was to picture Dylan on his knees, his mouth open wide to take the hot spurts of cum exploding out of him.

But when the final drop left Shaw’s body, he was all alone, with nothing but a fantasy that tormented him almost as much as another man in the bed of the woman he still loved…and always would, did.

Chapter Four