Page 11 of Brett and Rowdy (Gomillion High Reunion #5)

“Me too. If we go through the little side door next to my workbench, we go out to the forge and the welding area, but there’s a couple of pieces in here I wanted to show you first. Then we’ll go out there to where I’ve got some of the bigger stuff.

” Brett sounded so proud, and Rowdy got that. He did.

When he was giving somebody a tour of the ranch and his pop was driving the golf cart around or whatever. He just really loved to show off his passion, and he thought Brett was the same way.

“Cool. That’s neat, man. Can I feel some of the tools?”

“Absolutely. Come on; we’ll start with the big drill press. I have smaller ones too, but this one will really put a hurt on some metal bits.” Brett led him over to the right and took him maybe half the distance of the room, he thought.

His boots rang on the floor as they walked, and he thought it might be concrete. Then Brett took his hand and put it on the casing of a big machine.

“See this is a motor casing, and then if you move your hand forward, toward yourself I suppose, so maybe backward, you’ll feel the controls.

It’s not plugged in right now, so you don’t have to worry about turning it on.

And then there’s the head where the drill bit sits.

Just be careful because the bit that’s in it right now is really sharp on the end. ”

“Got it.” He explored, letting his fingers find all the things just like he had with the coffee table and the workbench.

They looked at several of the other tools the same way before Brett took him out to the forge, which smelled completely different.

It smelled like charcoal and like horseshoes.

He just didn’t know how else to say it. It was a smell he understood, because he knew farriers, but this was also Brett’s workshop, so it was all new.

The smaller pieces Brett had let him look at in the shop were really cool.

There had been a fish made out of license plates, and there had been some sort of twisting spiral that he thought was going to end up being one of those neat wind-driven whirligigs, but it was the stuff out in the welding floor that really fascinated his fingers and his heart.

Wild shapes that twisted and curled and crawled up each other like fire maybe or like the best kind of storm.

It was just stunning how Brett put things together, and Rowdy couldn’t believe how he had this incredibly visceral reaction to it.

He wanted to just keep touching it forever, but at the same time, somehow it turned him on and made him want to touch Brett.

He could hear Brett shifting from foot to foot, feel the pressure of the man’s arm and shoulder next to him, that heat from Brett’s body, and he smiled, looking into what he thought was Brett’s face.

“What do you think?” Brett asked after he finished touching the largest piece, which he thought was based on water, but he had a feeling Brett was gonna make him ask if he wanted to know.

“I think they’re amazing, man,” he said. “I can’t stop touching them.”

“What’s so cool about them? I’m not being needy, am I?” Brett’s laughter made him join in.

“No. They’re cool because they’re not like anything I’ve ever touched before.

They’re totally new, and these days, that’s something completely odd for me.

Like it blows my mind, actually. So good job.

” He would give credit where it was due.

Brett was an artist, like a true, amazing artist, full of this phenomenal creativity.

“Thanks.” He could hear the deep smile in Brett’s voice. “It’s really neat to hear that. I… sometimes I forget that people like what I do. I get a little down on myself.”

“That’s because you’re too damn serious, man.” He reached down for Brett’s hand, letting his fingers run down Brett’s arm until he found it. “You need to take more joy in life.”

“I think I’m fixing to figure out how to do that again a little bit.”

Rowdy felt his grin widen into something a little more naughty. Maybe a lot more naughty. “Yeah? I could get behind that.”

“Cool. Do you wanna go back to the house?”

“I really do.” He took a deep breath and then let it out. “I kind of want to touch you the same way I’ve been touching your art.”

Was that weird? Forward? Maybe, but what did he care? He was in town for a class reunion.

Hookups with old flames were the whole fucking idea, if you asked him.

Brett touched his cheek with rough, callused fingers. “Only kind of?”

“Oh, now, I don’t want to sound too needy either, do I?”

“In this case, you can sound as needy as you want. I don’t mind a bit.” Brett took him back out of the workshop, not the way they’d come but around the side, and they headed to the house, the dogs bounding along next to them.

Rowdy thought they were getting along great, the two pups, because there had not been even a single snarl or bark, just lots of panting and jumping and running.

They made it inside the kitchen—at least he supposed it was the kitchen ’cause it smelled like spices and tomatoes and bread.

“What’s funny?”

“I smell tomatoes and jalapenos.” It was a little like home.

“I was making salsa earlier today.”

He leaned into Brett a little, letting the man feel his weight. “You do realize they may not let you stay in South Carolina if you make salsa. That’s like a Southwestern thing.”

Brett’s chuckle shook him. “Shut up. You know I like my spice. I was so disappointed in the food at the thing. I wanted goofy Southern food, not fancy weird-assed I don’t even know what.”

Rowdy shrugged and rolled his eyes. “Fancy people, man.”

He might have money, but fancy just wasn’t in his job description.

“Yeah, I hear you. Yeah. I wanted fried macaroni and cheese balls and some pimento cheese.”

“More cheese. There needed to be more cheese.” Rowdy reached up, curled his fingers around Brett’s nape and eased him down.

The chemistry as soon as their lips touched was absolutely perfect. That was what he needed. That part hadn’t changed.

Rowdy opened up, humming deep in his chest, and Brett immediately wrapped those big, callused hands around his hips and drew him right in.

No question, no deep comments, just two guys who needed a little stress relief after a really long fucking day.

Maybe it had been a really long fucking couple of years.

Brett tasted of hops and barley, and that summoned up a deep well of memories.

Kissing this man after a stolen beer on the riverbank.

Crazy fumblings in the back of the truck.

Behind the barn.

Behind the bleachers.

But this was even better. There was no fumbling. Touching, sure. And slow, long, deep kisses. Ones that left him panting. They were both grown-ups now.

And it showed.

Jesus fuck, Brett made his knees weak, and he could only imagine how fucking hard it was for Brett, given that the man was so tall. “Can we sit somewhere?”

Wanna get naked in bed?

“Hell, yes. Where do you want to go, honey? Couch? Or are you ready to go right to bed?”

Oh, they were on the same damn page. That was helpful.

“I’m a huge fan of exploring your bed, if I’m honest.” He nodded, went for a smile that was more sexual than creepy. “Lead the way?”

“You bet. Do I need to close the dogs in the house?”

“Not unless yours will start howling.”

“With his new buddy to play with? Not a chance. Come on.” Brett took his hand and tucked it into the crook of his arm, learning so well already how to take care with him. “Is this the weirdest thing you’ve ever done?”

“No, not even close.” He had to laugh. “It’s totally a good thing, though. I haven’t been naked in bed with a lover for a while. I am a fan of sex, though.”

“I am too. But I got to admit, it’s usually a quick hookup. I use condoms every time, though, just so you know.” He thought Brett was just trying to make him feel comfortable, so he didn’t chuckle.

They moved down a hall, and Brett paused, he would bet to turn on the light. They stepped through the door, and Brett closed the door behind them before leading him to the bed. “Here, honey. The bed is right next to your right hand, and you’re facing the headboard.”

“Thanks.” He reached out to feel, and it was no surprise that Brett was a quilt man, not a comforter guy. At least for the top layer. Brett had a lot of tradition in him.

Not that he minded a bit of that himself.

“Who made the quilt?” He followed the pattern with one finger, the stitches even and straight. They were in a random pattern, like a meandering car.

“My aunt. She was fond.” Brett’s voice took on a tiny bit of sadness, and he remembered something about breast cancer. Which was not the right note for now, so he let it go.

“It feels amazing.” He sat down and toed off his boots. “I bet you feel better.”

That was clear, right?

“I sure hope you think so.” Brett’s smile was right there in his voice, and he stepped close, giving Rowdy plenty of warning before settling those warm hands on his shoulders. “Can I help?”

“Bring it on. I want you, balls to bones.” He let his body language stay open and eager, relaxed. He wanted this—from the top to the bottom.

“Ditto.” Brett reached up to cup his cheeks, then bent to kiss him again, making him moan and rock on the bed. Then the man started on his shirt.

He wasn’t as stacked as Brett was, but he was confident. He had the body of a man who worked for a living, and he hoped that he still looked as good as he felt.

“Damn.” Brett smoothed his shirt off his shoulders and arms, the sound he made admiring. “You are one hot son of a bitch, honey. I used to think you were amazing in high school, but this is… wow.”

“Thanks.” He grinned, running his hand up Brett’s arm. “You’re stacked to the ceiling, I swear to God.”

“Uh-huh.” Brett flexed for him, and damn if that didn’t make his toes curl.

“Let’s get your shirt off, and then we can start on pants,” Rowdy murmured.

“Sure.” Brett worked buttons, and he explored every inch of skin he could reach as it was bared. Hot. A little fuzzy. Muscles for days.

This was so much better than old memories.

He leaned forward to kiss Brett’s belly once it was free of the cloth, and he had to hum at the flavor of heat and musk and man. Salty and good.

This was a much better place to be than in some loud party with a bunch of folks he didn’t really know.

“Mmm.” Brett’s hand sank into his short hair, rifling through it. “Damn, you… I didn’t remember how amazing your mouth was. I need more of that.”

Brett could have as much of it as the son of a bitch wanted, that was for sure. He wasn’t shy, not a bit. “You got it, man. Just tell me where.”

“Anywhere you want to put it.”

So he chuckled, then got a hold of Brett’s belt buckle, popping it open and going after the button and zipper. The sounds Brett made urged him on, because the guy sounded like he might strangle to death with joy.

He wanted to make Brett fly, and he knew enough about sucking to make the top of a man’s head pop off. So he was happy to open up his present and pull that hot, long cock right out, licking his lips in anticipation.

Bending, he held Brett’s cock in place, then swiped his tongue over the tip.

“Fuck! Rowdy. Christ. That’s—” Brett drew in a deep breath. “That’s damn fine.”

That was true, no lie. It was better than fine. He explored, hands and lips, letting Brett’s scent fill him up.

He licked, then sucked, scooting down just enough to get his lips to meet his hands. Rowdy didn’t want to go sliding off the bed, but he wanted to be able to really get down and dirty so they could both enjoy this.

“Come on, honey. You can take it.” Brett didn’t push, but those hips did start rocking, pressing that cock up into his mouth.

Yeah. Yeah, he was fond of this, and he did it damn well. So he went to town, letting curses and grunts fall around him.

Then he was left hanging in midair a little when Brett pulled him off. “That’s amazing, Rowdy, but I want to explore you too. I want us to go together.”

“I like the sound of that.”

“Hell, so do I. Stand up and let me get your pants open.”

His knees held him, so that was a victory, and he swallowed hard, forcing himself not to gasp as the refrigerated air hit his prick.

“I got you.” That warm hand closed around him, rubbing up and down, up and down, and he moaned, his whole body rippling.

“Need to sit, Brett.”

“Okay.” Brett stripped him the rest of the way down before helping him up on the bed, letting him lay flat. There was a rustle, and then Brett was right there with him, naked as the day he was born, skin sliding on skin.

A man could get used to this for sure. Especially when Brett dove in for another kiss.

They weren’t the slightest bit cautious this time, though, and he loved this version of Brett—older, hungry, confident.

They rolled to their sides, facing each other, their lips and tongues working, making madly wet, erotic sounds.

Brett touched him, hands sliding on his skin, tracing over the scar on his ribs from a hoof, the place where his hip dipped down to his thigh.

And his ass. The man was a fan, apparently, because he kept coming back, kneading and squeezing.

“So damn hot. I could bounce quarters off it.”

“Maybe. I have to admit, I’ve never tried, but I would let you have a shot, darlin’.”

“I’ll do it later. Right now, I would rather bounce other things off.”

That made him laugh like a loon, and he pulled Brett against him so their cocks could rub together. That made the heat between them ratchet up about a dozen times. Fuck. He was gasping for air, rocking his hips, and cooking with gas.

“Jesus, are you real?”

He nodded, swallowing hard. He was more than real. He was over the fucking moon and solid as a rock.

Brett moaned, wrapping a hand around both of them, those calluses about to make him just soar. He couldn’t take too much more, but Brett had said they should go together. So he would wait.

He drew one leg up, his toes curling as he fought to hold it together. “Close, darlin’. I swear I’m good for a second round.”

“I am too. At least with you.” That breathy laugh was the last of their words, because Brett kissed him hard and deep, scalding him like too hot coffee, and he bucked, shooting so damn hard his teeth rattled. Brett followed him right away, wet heat spreading all over his belly and hip.

“Damn. Damn.” Rowdy groaned when he could breathe again, sucking air. “Fuck, darlin’, I needed that. With you.”

“Uh-huh.” Brett flopped to his back, pulling Rowdy up close against his side. “Gimme two shakes, and we’ll go again. Slower this time.”

“I do love the way you think, darlin’.” He might need three shakes.

That had been pretty fucking amazing, and he sure as shit wasn’t twenty anymore.