2. Kess

2

KESS

I was wearing a Thick Thighs Save Lives T-shirt layered over my crisply tailored Burberry button-down, which could only mean one thing: my housewarming party was in full swing, and everyone was drunk on high-octane sangria.

Including me.

A club remix of Girls Just Wanna Have Fun was blaring through my brand-new speakers as ripped cowboys and gorgeous twinks grinded on each other in the middle of my sunken living room. Surreally, the Bashes—the older Norwegian couple I’d met at Emery’s wedding—were in the center of all this madness, slow dancing.

Like a spinning carnival ride, a flash of pale flesh and magenta caught my eye. A delectably plump woman I had never met before was off to the side, shirtless and being twirled by one of the hot pansexuals from Rebel Sky. Her bra was the source of the magenta. Pretty. I looked down at my T-shirt, made a few calculations, peeled it off, and then waded into the melee to present it to her.

“I believe this is yours, m’lady,” I said, or rather, hiccupped.

Handing it over left me quite unsteady, but Warwick—I think?—held me in place with a broad hand on my hip and a leering expression on his face.

Definitely Warwick.

The gal sent me a lopsided grin as she rubbed my belly. “I wondered where that went off to.”

Joaquin plucked the shirt from her fumbling grip. “We’ll save this for later,” he murmured in that hot accent of his as a stunning freckled cub—also shirtless—came up behind him and kissed his neck.

Jealous .

The four of them went back to entertaining each other, and I refocused on the Bashes, who were still slow dancing in my living room. I watched them sway together and kiss, then approach a cowboy couple wrapped around each other. I’d declined the Bashes’ earlier invitation to a three-way, but as they followed the two hot cowboys into my hallway bathroom, I wondered if I hadn’t been too hasty.

“Here,” Emery said, sloppily topping off my drink.

Oops. Red splashed on the floor. Good thing I chose finished concrete flooring.

“Love you, Em.”

“Love you too, Kessie.”

Ever since we met in high school, Emery and I had been like brothers. We’d supported each other through death, injury, and law school with nothing but naive gumption and the cheapest app builder we could find.

After twenty years of hustling and making deals together, I had joined Emery in semiretirement in the Central Texas Hill Country, where he’d gifted me ten acres of land. I’d officiated his wedding about six months ago, and now, after months of eighty-plus-hour work weeks followed by managing the construction from Austin, I was finally at the finish line.

I was exhausted but excited for what was to come. Not as excited as the loud foursome in my expensively appointed guest bathroom, but I was on the precipice of something new. I could feel it.

“What should I do next?” I asked as one of the bathroom cowboys saw God.

Em wobbly toasted me. “I dunno. Get laid?”

I gestured to the people dirty dancing in my living room. Warwick was bumping and grinding the plump cutie from behind, his hand fully cupping her breast beneath the lacy fabric of her bra. “I don’t know anyone here except you and Woody.”

The second cowboy’s cries joined the first.

“And Rowdy,” Emery helpfully provided. “Whenever he decides to join us.”

Oof. I had definitely not forgotten about him. “Where is he, by the way? He should be here by now.”

Emery lifted a meaty shoulder as Woody joined us, wrapping his wiry body around Em’s middle.

“You know him and his blink-and-you-miss-’em hookups,” Woody answered while soft, rhythmic grunts filled the hallway behind us. He pointed to the bathroom door. “Are people fucking in there?”

“Yep.” I hiccupped. “And according to your husband, I should be doing the same.”

Woody grinned, a rare and glorious sight. “Yeah, you should.”

Emery kissed the top of his head, murmuring, “Since they’ve christened the bathroom, you wanna christen the guest room?”

Woody tipped his face up and Emery kissed him softly. Then… not so softly. The two cowboys cried out in unison, which was then followed by Nordic whispers as Emery pulled away from the kiss. “We should go home. Stevie’s spending the night with friends and we can make as much noise as we want.”

Woody nodded as the bathroom foursome stumbled into the hallway. I exchanged a glance with Emery, then burst out laughing.

And, because this night wasn’t Eyes Wide Shut enough, a familiar Grand Marquis rocked to a halt out front. Woody artfully distracted his man with a kiss while the elder Bashes and their brand-new friends laughed and spun each other in circles as they left the party.

Dawn McAvoy, Emery’s mom, hopped out of the boatlike classic and let the three guys into the back while directing Mama Bash, with her artful style and pretty gray-and-white hair to the front. The two ladies shared a passionate kiss, and then Dawn saluted me before peeling away.

She’d declined my invitation because she “preferred more intimate gatherings.” Guess intimate could mean a few things, considering.

Woody ended the make-out session with Em. He caught my eye with a wry grimace and made the cut-it gesture at his throat. What Emery didn’t know… was probably best for everyone involved.

I wasn’t one for multiples, but my chest ached at the way the Bashes still had eyes for each other after so many years together. God, if I could only be so lucky…

I was so desperate for that kind of relationship that last week I’d sat with a ridiculously expensive matchmaker, flipping through notebooks as we talked about my goals, likes, and dislikes.

All the men she’d shown me were… fine. Handsome and appropriate for a man of my age and means. I’d chosen three candidates, as required by the contract. Still, not one of them sparked even a fraction of the excitement I’d experienced when I’d gotten a text notification from Rowdy as I’d left the matchmaker’s office.

Rowdy: Tell my cousin I’m running late for pasta night.

Rowdy: This guy won’t stop talking about his Pop collection.

Me: I thought you preferred it when they didn’t talk.

Rowdy: True. But he’s hung, so I’ll allow it.

A shout went up around the group, taking me out of my thoughts.

“Rowdy!”

Oh, thank God.

I spun on my heel and the breath fled from my lungs like I’d been sucked into the vacuum of space. Rowdy Lockwood was one of the most beautiful men I’d ever seen. Unlike his cousin Woody’s sharper features, Rowdy’s dense dark eyebrows and trimmed beard were set off by his soulful eyes. They were an endless pool of warm dark chocolate, fringed with thick, inky black lashes.

That wasn’t what took my breath away, though. This evening’s hypoxia was due to Rowdy’s thick brown-black hair. He almost always wore it back in a messy man bun, but tonight it was down in loose waves that dusted his angular shoulders, tiny braids behind his ears.

I wanted to hug him from behind and bury my face in those untamed tresses.

I wanted to grip his hair at the base of his skull and drown him in kisses.

I wanted to bury myself inside his narrow ass and?—

One of the pretty twinks shoved a red plastic cup full of the powerful sangria into Rowdy’s hands and dragged him into the middle of the room.

“Rowdy-man! You’ve gotta catch up!”

Rowdy took one look at me and downed about half of his sangria. Laughing, he wiped the scarlet drink from his chin, smiling at the lot of us, glowing like he’d just been fucked by a god. That thought made tonight’s drinks slosh unpleasantly in my stomach.

From what I could tell, Rowdy spent his free time fucking every eligible gay man in the Austin metroplex. It was good to have a hobby, I supposed, even if I secretly hated that goddamned hobby.

At the big age of thirty-eight, I’d assumed I was too old for a crush, especially not on someone so much younger, but here we were. My gaze traveled from his gorgeous hair down to his full lips, then down to his typical Henley-over-Wranglers-and-boots style.

You’d feel so good against my body, Rowd.

Unbidden, I imagined us slow dancing in this very living room, just like the Bashes, absent the people. I rubbed my chest as I thought of his sweet grin paired with eyes set off by deep smile lines from years of happiness.

I’d sooner cage a wild bird than try to pin that man down. But God, how I wanted to make him mine.

Seriously, what the fuck was in this sangria?

The only thing I knew for sure was that his sweet smile made my heart speed up, just as it had the first time we met. I’d been shooting the shit with Emery in his kitchen when Rowdy walked in and gave us the business. I’d fired back, calling him a sassy bottom, and his reply was everything.

“Sassy bottom, bossy bottom, bottom you couldn’t handle in your wildest fucking dreams.”

“We’ll see about that.”

I’d never had someone so willing to banter with me—to throw back everything I had thrown at him. He wasn’t one for long-term relationships, though, as I frequently reminded myself, so I subsisted off our filthy one-liners and texts like a soldier surviving on MREs in the jungle.

When I’d accepted Emery’s land, though, it became too dangerous to keep playing with Rowdy like this. Choosing to live out here full time meant it was time to leave this foolishness behind and start dating serious men. Which was why I’d had the appointment with the matchmaker.

Rowdy spun in place, stopping when he saw me. “Hey, big guy,” he purred, opening his arms. “Welcome to the neighborhood.”

I gulped, staring into those mesmerizing eyes for a second too long before accepting the hug. Fuck. He did feel perfect against my body. He was lanky and average height, like his scary cousin, and fit perfectly under my chin.

This is fine. Everything’s fine. Besides, the matchmaker dates don’t start until next week.

“You missed the grand tour,” I whispered, holding on for longer than seemed appropriate. “And a bathroom sex show. Not to mention the Rebel Sky guys all over a cute girl.”

Huh. Where did the four of them go?

“What a shame,” he cracked. “Unless it’s too late for you to show me your place, stud.”

“Not at all,” I said, still breathless. “I’ll give you a private tour.”

Emery and Woody followed us outside and— ah —there they were. The Rebel Sky trio and their lady friend were making out with each other while, I assumed, waiting for a ride. Warwick had handfuls of the woman’s ass in his hands as he kissed her, and…oh. Colt dropped to his knees in front of Joaquin, unzipping his jeans. Em and Woody laughed off the scene, then continued down the newly constructed driveway, stopping to make out every few seconds.

Rowdy cupped his hand to his mouth. “That’ll go faster if y’all’d focus on walking!”

Woody shot us the finger. Then Emery scooped him up over his shoulder and jogged the rest of the way down the darkened drive.

Rowdy and I laughed, and then, in an attempt to ignore the slurping sounds that were competing with the night crickets’ serenade, I started pointing out the patches of rich, freshly turned earth. “Not much to look at, but all the flower beds are ready for planting.”

He nodded, unbothered by the horny group as he casually sipped his rocket fuel. “You hiring a landscaper?”

“Nah. Thought I’d take a page from Emery’s book and do it myself.”

“At least you’re staying on the ground. Smart.”

Chuckling, I admitted, “Not so much smart as terrified of heights.”

We stood back from the house as Joaquin found his noisy finish, and Rowdy gestured with his red plastic cup, the move loose and easy. “I loved watching this come together. What is this style called?”

“I dunno… cabin in the woods, but make it modern?” I said of the low, split-level structure made of reclaimed wood and as many massive windows as the architect was willing to shove into the space.

I’d been taken by the treehouse feel of Emery’s finished attic and asked my architect if he’d be able to make an entire house feel like that. The modern structure was built on a low pier-and-beam foundation so that it followed the dramatic terrain while utilizing the surrounding trees as cover. Despite the cubist design, the repurposed wood was surprisingly welcoming and allowed my home to fit in with its environment.

Rowdy squatted down, running his fingers over the loose soil, his hair spilling forward. “It’s gorgeous as is, but it’ll be even prettier once you get some planting done.”

“I think so, too,” I said, making fists so I didn’t run my fingers through his hair.

He stood, dusting his hands on his jeans. I pointed out the detached split garage off the right, which held my brand-new truck— a truck, for fuck’s sake —in one bay and several pieces of woodworking equipment in the other. I reached into my pocket and hit the button to open both doors.

Rowdy walked over and peered into the workspace, his fitted shirt rucking up in the back. “You a carpenter?”

“As a hobby, maybe? I like to build things.” My voice trailed off as I appreciated the Wrangler patch on his behind.

An Uber driver crept up the drive and I directed him to the Rebel Sky contingent, who were putting their clothes to rights. Aroused by the debauchery that’d kept me at half staff most of the evening, my eyes returned to the modest curve of Rowdy’s ass. I wanted to run my nose along that tight seam, learn his smell, taste?—

“So, when I redecorate the cabin and need a new headboard, you’re the guy to come to?”

After tearing my eyes away from his backside, I met his amused gaze. Busted .

“Uh, yeah.” I rubbed the back of my head. “Happy to reinforce it for your extracurricular activities.”

He rolled his eyes, then gripped my shirt sleeve as we crossed in front of the house and circled toward the back. The beautifully lit rectangular pool was in the space made by the house’s rear L-shape. While I couldn’t wait to take advantage of the Texas heat, I’d sprung for a solar heat pump so we could enjoy it year-round.

“Wow,” he said, a little slurry. “Love the way all the windows along the back of the house face the pool.”

Slices of the party going on in the front were visible through the windows, though it was nice to see the soundproof glass doing its job.

“Not a bad view in the place.” I took another drink and tried not to move too much, far too aware that he was still hanging on to my sleeve as I imagined the heat of his hand on my cock.

“I also like that the interior seems lofty, but the exterior is low to the ground.”

“I had a very talented architect.”

He lightly shouldered me, and I locked down a moan.

“Sure,” he said, grinning madly, “but I thought spoiled city boys loved their massive monuments to wealth.”

“I wouldn’t call three thousand square feet small,” I objected into my plastic cup, trying to pull myself together. “Besides, it’s like I said, I’m allergic to heights.”

“Wait.” He stopped at the pool’s edge, finally letting go to turn to me. “You’re really so afraid of heights that you couldn’t handle a two-story house?”

I sucked in my lips and nodded, mesmerized by his wavering reflection in the night-dark water. “Plus, the layout is kinda nostalgic for me.”

“Yeah? How so?”

“It reminds me a little of the split-level house where I grew up in Salt Lake City.”

I’d had my parents send me the plans for our old house as a starting point for my architect, but I held back on that detail.

“You grew up in Salt Lake City? I thought you and Emery had been friends forever.”

“My family moved to Texas when I was sixteen. Emery and I met in high school, and we were immediately friends.”

I waited for the next obvious question.

“Does this mean I get to call you Elder Kessler?” he asked, amused.

If only he knew the kind of porn I watched…

“Absolutely not.”

“What about your parents? I’m guessing the fact that you turned out to be a big old homo wasn’t their favorite.”

I laughed. “No, it wasn’t. But they’re trying to be okay with it now.” Grimacing, I said, “Twenty years since I refused my mission and came out to them, and they’ve almost got it.”

“Sorry.” He looked up at me and I got lost in his eyes, which I decided were more dangerous than his ass. “That’s probably not a lot of fun.”

“Not really.” Needing to get back on level ground, I snarked, “Anyway, thank you for taking time out of your busy hookup schedule to come to my housewarming.”

He flipped his hair over his shoulder. “It was no bother, really. An ass this perfect is a blessing and a curse. I was in and out in no time.”

I had already imagined how it’d feel to push into his tight hole more times than I was willing to admit, but hearing him say it made my cock weep with need. The warm breeze blew through the trees as I eyeballed the sturdy teak recliners that lined the pool. I’d made them myself, and now I was wondering if they’d hold up under our combined weights.

Steady, old boy. You know you’re not built for casual, not with this one.

Making my way up the steps, I drew open the enormous sliding glass wall, and the music spilled out onto the deck. Gesturing for him to join me, I said, “Maybe instead of letting these two pump chumps fuck you, you could use someone a little older, a little wiser. Perhaps a little more in control of himself.”

He snorted as he passed me, walking into my bedroom, a generous space with a limestone fireplace and a massive bed.

“When you find that man, give him my number,” he shot back. He stood in the seating area in front of the fireplace and turned in a circle, sloshing his drink as he gestured at my bed. “So, wait. Is this where the king lays his head at night?”

“That it is. Though you completely missed my top-notch flirting.”

He wrinkled his nose. “I wouldn’t say I missed it.”

“Rude.”

“Whatever. You love it,” he said, standing toe to toe with me, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

Yes. Yes, I do.

I pushed a stray braid over his ear. “You should wear your hair down more often,” I said, the words huskier than I’d intended.

“For you?” He licked his lips. “Sure.”

I wasn’t always the fastest tool in the shed with picking up hints, but his expectant look was hard to miss. Blindly setting our drinks on the mantel, I pulled him to me, then lingered on his beautiful face, hesitating.

Fuck it. I need to taste this man before I die.

His eyes— God, so fucking beautiful —held me in place for a moment. After taking a fortifying breath, I lowered my head, placing a soft kiss on his lips. He moaned, and I caressed his jaw, deepening the kiss as I ran my other hand up and down his strong back. He melted against me, exactly as I’d always imagined he would.

Thank fuck. I’ve been torturing myself with how much I’ve wanted him.

I slipped my tongue into his waiting mouth, and his breath hitched. He slid his tongue against mine, arching back as I curled forward. I knew he’d be a fantastic kisser, but I hadn’t expected this. Rowdy kissed with his entire body, and it was far more intoxicating than the alcohol running through my veins. I was willing to do whatever it took to get him to let me keep kissing him.

My brain, sodden with alcohol, waved goodbye to the matchmaking service’s nonrefundable deposit. They could keep my fucking money if I got to keep Rowdy.

I couldn’t scare him, though. If I told him how I really felt, there’d be a Rowdy-shaped hole in the wall.

Just make it about sex, Kessie. Just for tonight. We’ll figure out how to make him fall in love with you later.

I could do this. I could do this.

Cupping his ass, I whispered against his lips, “God, please let me worship this tight fucking hole.”

I expected a moan, a heated yes , or, if I was lucky, a snarky come on. I was wholly unprepared, then, for him to stiffen and drag himself out of my embrace. Worse, I couldn’t account for the fear lancing through his perfect face, nor the way he was trying and failing to slow his breaths. I was reminded of that viral video of the monkey who dunked his cotton candy in the water and couldn’t figure out where it’d gone.

What just happened?

Realizing that I was still holding him, I took a step back and held up my hands. “Hey, sorry, Rowd. It’s the sangria. Meant no disrespect.”

Rowdy put on a fake smile, waving away my concern as he edged farther away. “None taken, darlin’,” he said, still breathing heavily. “I’m still recovering from earlier this evening.”

Fuck . He’d just come to my house from a hookup. What the hell was I thinking?

Screamingly jealous of his lovers and terrified that I’d completely fucked up the friendship we’d built over these last two years, I winked and gestured to the door. “Why don’t we rejoin the others?”