Three Men and a Bounty (8 page)

Troy peered into the darkness, vision easily adjusting to the lack of light. He didn’t see anything, and unlike humans, he could see well in the dark, much like his animal. The idea that someone had watched him and James in the water, though they hadn’t really done anything unseemly, made him decidedly wary and vulnerable.

Still, he didn’t regret the impulsiveness that had put him in this position. He did not regret the jealousy or over-protectiveness that led him to follow James all the way to Wolf Creek and halfway back.

He’d thought to give the marshal a piece of his mind, to stake his claim for Chris, but best laid plans. Really, how much could he do in wolf form that wouldn’t give him away, except hurt the marshal?

And, despite his competitive nature or proprietary feelings for Chris, that had been the last thing he wanted to do.

Troy leaned his head back against the tree and closed his eyes. He didn’t feel the presence anymore and figured he was far enough inside the woods to be safe from prying human eyes at least. Funnily enough he didn’t worry as much about animal eyes. Animals didn’t judge like humans. They had sex without reservation, shame, or worrying about an audience.

Three Men and a Bounty

61

Maybe if he had sex more often himself, he wouldn’t be so on edge. Troy hadn’t been with anyone in a long time, though, and even then, it had been careless and fast groping in the dark, nothing fit for a proper body. It had been something more fit for an animal—the animal he was.

There had been a couple of times, though, way back when he’d been between hay and grass and imagined himself enamored. He’d had to leave Jack out of self-preservation, and Josiah had been taken away from him. He hadn’t been able to explore the depths of what he was feeling with either man, and since they both were dead now, he never would.

Troy’s body buzzed with the memories of his youth and

unreleased hunger. He needed to take off the edge.

He stretched his legs out in front of him and let his hand slide down to his lap. His cock rose up out of a nest of brown curls, hard and painful. Troy curled his fingers around his erection as far as they would go, but even with his sizeable hand, his fingers didn’t meet around the firm girth of him. His member pulsed inside his fist, a large, living thing that made Troy wonder if he had ever grown so big before. Had he ever been so enthused?

He squeezed his eyes tight, drawing on the image of James naked, his mahogany skin glistening with lake water. The memory of James and his hard, jutting shaft set fire to Troy’s need, and to his senses further.

He tightened his grip slightly, feeling velvet skin stretched over hard steel. The underside ridges ignited the nerve endings in his palm as he slowly began to pump his hand.

A pearl of liquid squeezed to the head of his penis, and Troy imagined first James then Chris licking him then sharing his taste between them. He shuddered at the vision, pumping his cock harder and faster. Icy white heat rode him hard, rushing and spreading from his groin down to his stiffening legs. Troy’s moan of pleasure echoed loudly, but he had no chance to worry about startling any furry
62

Gigi Moore

woodland creatures that might be in the vicinity as his senses whirled on a cloud. Gasping, he spurted over his hand and onto his leg. Troy fell headlong into a mind-numbing climax that had him seeing double once he finally opened his eyes.

He was bleeding. He tasted the blood in his mouth from where he must have bitten his bottom lip to keep from crying out. He licked the bite, the sample triggering a memory of the Indians and how they’d tasted when he’d ripped into them. The flavor hadn’t been entirely unpleasant. On some bone-deep level he had cottoned to the kill and the taste of his prey.

He hadn’t cottoned to the reasons behind the attack, however. He had to believe he never would have harmed another human being like that without provocation—
had
to.

Troy blinked several times to clear the tears that had suddenly formed in his eyes at the memory of his father. They hadn’t lost Mama much before the Indians’ visit. Troy soon found himself, once again, grieving, this time for his father.

He thought of Chris again and how much they had in common. He thought of the losses they’d experienced in their lives. He wouldn’t fool himself to believe he understood what made a kid like him wake up screaming in fear the way Chris had. Since he’d undergone his first shift and had his growth spurt as a young teen, he hadn’t been afraid of too much of anything. He wouldn’t pretend that the near ten-year age gap didn’t matter to him, either, even if it didn’t matter to Mr. Old Enough Michaels. He had much more important things to worry about, the least of which involved catching up with James and making it back to Nellie’s.

With everything that had happened and everything going on around the territory, he didn’t want either man out of his sight for too long.

* * * *

Three Men and a Bounty

63

Chris felt the weight on him as he woke and had to force himself not to panic before a large hand slapped over his mouth. The memory of being held down by those hands, of being bound and gagged and the heat of that brand, had him struggling as if his life depended on it.

And then his eyes flew open. He blinked a few times to bring the face hovering above him into focus, the kerosene lamp on the bedside table helping a little.

Chris said his visitor’s name in awe, but the sound came out muffled against James’ hand until he removed it.

“What time is it?” Chris asked.

“Did you eat?”

“I had dinner with Nellie and the girls.”

“Nellie and the girls, huh?” James grinned.

Chris shrugged. “They invited me to eat with them downstairs.

Did I do something wrong accepting?” He watched as James winced, or maybe he saw something that wasn’t more than a trick of the light.

“You didn’t do anything wrong—then or now.”

“You ain’t still mad at me?”

James brushed a stray lock of hair behind Chris’ ear as he rested his chin in his free palm and his elbow on the mattress beside Chris’

face. “I was never mad at you.”

“But you—”

“Shh.” James bent his head to take Chris’ mouth with his, thrusting his tongue past Chris’ parted lips when Chris gasped in surprise.

James pulled back just far and long enough to say, “I wasn’t mad.

I was scared. I thought you…” He shook his head and closed his eyes.

He pressed his forehead against Chris’ and sighed. “I reckon I’m not sure what I thought, except you might have been hurt. I—”

“Was scared?” Chris watched James’ Adam’s apple as it bobbed up and down. He rested his palm on James’ face, liking the way the stubble rasped against his hand, so unlike his own peach fuzz. He
64

Gigi Moore

rubbed his thumb over James’ light mustache and felt the tough marshal shudder beside him. “I’m okay. I’m not hurt.”

“Not physically, no.”

Chris averted his eyes. He’d gone over this ground with Troy. Not that Troy had gotten any more out of him than James would, but he didn’t want to go through this again. He didn’t want to spill his guts.

He didn’t want to reveal his soul. There was nothing to tell. He was here now and didn’t want to think about his past—not ever.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have spoken so harshly to you.”

Chris grinned, knew how hard it was for a man like James to apologize or, worse, to admit wrongdoing. The West was a hard place peopled with hard men—and women, too. They were people with no time for flapping their gums and explaining why they did what they did. They just did what they had to do when they had to do it.

He had been out here long enough to know how things worked, and what he hadn’t seen and heard for himself, Cooper had taught him. Just once, though, he wanted to feel like he had been born for more than just to provide pleasure to a man or even a woman before he was kicked out to pasture like a worthless animal.

He missed Cooper. He didn’t realize how much until just now.

Cooper had been the only man before Troy and James to show Chris any sort of kindness, to let Chris know that he wasn’t a bad person for feeling how he felt and wanting what he wanted. Mr. Whitfield had abided Chris’ proclivities because Chris had proved himself a decent cowhand and a quick learner, but when it got right down to brass tacks, Whitfield hadn’t wanted to abide the sort of difficulties Chris’

proclivities triggered more than anyone else. Chris had been let go

“for the good of the rest of the ranch.”

“Got to keep up the morale of my other ’hands, you understand.”

Yep, Chris understood. He proved too much trouble to keep around. He wasn’t necessary, not at the expense of the peace.

Whitfield had apologized for letting him go, and Chris had seen how uncomfortable it made the old man to send him off with just his
Three Men and a Bounty

65

wages, war-bag, and horse. However, send Chris off he did. And what Whitfield and the hands had started back at the ranch, the horse thieves outside of town had finished—taking his worldly possessions and the rest of his dignity.

“You did what you had to do,” Chris said, rubbing his thumb over James’ chin now, glancing over the cleft like he’d been dreaming about doing since he’d first seen the marshal in action at Barrow’s.

Chris thought the moment would be complete if one other person was here with them, and that’s when a howl rose up from outside—

haunting and drawn-out.

He watched James frown at the sound and said, “Almost sounds like the animal is in a world of hurt.”

“About as much as I am, I reckon.” James took Chris by the wrist and guided his hand down between them. “Touch me,” he rasped.

“You want—”

“To feel your hands on me.” James gritted his teeth and stared at Chris, brandy gaze gleaming and intense. “I need you.”

Chris audibly gulped. His heart thudded as James growled and brought Chris’ hand down between his legs. Chris opened his hand to stroke the hard bulge in James’ britches. A wave of lust washed over him when James hissed in a breath and closed his eyes.

“Take a hold, young’un. Don’t be afraid.”

“I–I’m not.”

“Prove it.”

Chris stiffened at the hard edge to James’ tone and returned the older man’s gaze. He saw the calculation, the challenge. The marshal thought he could scare him off—him the young, inexperienced tenderfoot.

Trying to protect himself or Chris?

He had news for the marshal. He wasn’t going to be scared off that easily.

66

Gigi Moore

Chris reached for the top button on James’ britches, not once taking his eyes off of the older man’s except to catch a flash of James’

self-assured grin.

James lay on his back, obviously to make things easier, but when he folded his hands behind his head and spread his legs, wordlessly giving Chris full access, it made things a lot harder for Chris in more ways than one.

He wasn’t used to men giving themselves over to him, leaving themselves at his mercy. Chris usually found
himself
at others’

mercy—men, women, it didn’t matter as long as he submitted to another’s whims. He had never had anyone submit to his.

“If you’re not going to shuck my clothes, then at least shuck yours.” James leaned up on his elbows and slowly ran his tongue along his full bottom lip. “I want to see you. Now,” he murmured.

Chris reached for the buttons on his shirt with shaky fingers, then hesitated.

He wasn’t normally shy about undressing in front of anyone, especially someone he planned to have sex with. He had sex so often over the years he had come to think of it as his job. He hadn’t had anything invested with those other people, though, nothing emotional.

With James, he did, at least on his part. And he wanted there to be more, much more.

James put a hand on his arm and rubbed up and down in a way that should have been soothing but that excited Chris even more.

“You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

“I want to. More than anything.”

James arched a brow as if to say
then what’s the hold up?
He reclined back on the bed in his former relaxed position and waited.

Chris silently commended the man’s patience at the same time he mentally kicked himself for his own hypocrisy. He’d told James he wasn’t afraid. Well, it was about time for him to live up to that bold forswearing.

“Well? Have at it, boy.”

Three Men and a Bounty

67

Chris finished unbuttoning his borrowed shirt, pulled it over his head, and tossed it.

Troy’s woodsy aroma lingered in the air around him, and he closed his eyes to inhale deeply, trying his darnedest to keep the man in the room with him and James in some form.

Straddling James’ ankles, Chris crawled up the mattress until his face hovered over James’ crotch. He licked his lips, glancing at James through lowered lashes while heat crept up and warmed his cheeks.

He closed his eyes against the lightheadedness. If being this close to tasting James left him so woozy, what would he do when he had James inside him?

I’ll probably die.

What a sweet death it would be, though.

James reached up and cupped his cheek before sliding his hand to Chris’ nape and caressing the hair that fell over his hand. “So soft.

Like a baby’s.”

Chris swallowed hard, thinking that there was nothing at all soft about the man beneath him and wondering how he was supposed to handle him.

He concentrated on unfastening the buttons on James’ pants to take his mind off of the monumental task ahead of him, his own britches becoming tighter and tighter in the crotch area the more he unfastened James’.

James pushed up on his heels and lifted his hips to help Chris take off his britches and long johns then must have finally lost his patience because he sat up to unbutton and shuck his own shirt.

Chris sat back on his haunches to look at the man sitting naked on the bed in front of him, and his heart pounded wildly.