“I know, but—” He stopped when he noticed Sloan’s eyes had gone veiled again. Shit. He was supposed to be winning this man over to his side, not bumming them both out. “So when did you meet Reese?” he asked, hoping to steer the subject somewhere safer.
Those broad shoulders lifted in a shrug. “Four, no, almost five years ago. Ran into her on the road.”
“She was alone?”
“Naw, she had people, strays she’d picked up along the way. Bethy and Arch. Nash. Cole.”
“Were you alone?”
It was supposed to be another harmless question, but Sloan instantly stiffened. “No. I wasn’t.”
Rylan snapped into damage control mode. Maybe if he revealed some of his own secrets, Sloan would relax again.
“I wasn’t alone either when I first met Con. Pike and I were roaming the colony, screwing around and getting into trouble. Before that, we were at an army camp, training recruits.” He grinned. “That’s where I got my cock pierced. And here’s a tip—”
Sloan chuckled.
The grin widened. “No pun intended. But yeah, a tip—you ever want to get your cock pierced, make sure you’re drunk when you do it. Hurts like a motherfucker.”
“And the tats? Did those hurt too?”
Rylan blinked, momentarily confused by the question, until he remembered that this man had seen him shirtless. Of course Sloan had noticed the tattoos on his chest. “Nah, I didn’t mind the needle. Got me hard, if I’m being honest. I like a side of pain with my pleasure.”
“I’ve noticed,” Sloan said dryly.
The air turned thick between them. He wondered if Sloan was remembering the way Rylan had commanded Reese to scratch harder, bite harder, ride him harder.
The glint of heat in Sloan’s dark eyes said yes, he was absolutely thinking about that.
Rylan wrenched the bottle from the other man’s hand and swallowed several mouthfuls that joined the hot burn already eddying in his stomach. Fuck, he was drunk. But not wasted. He could still think clearly. Still speak without slurring as he said, “Sorry I got in your face that night.”
“Sorry I kissed you,” came the brusque reply.
“I’m not. Reese keeps turning me down.”
A laugh popped out of Sloan’s mouth. He had to be drunk himself, because Rylan had never heard such deep, genuine laughter from the guy. “What, so I’m better than nothing?”
“Nah, you’re at least two steps up from nothing,” Rylan joked, but truthfully, Sloan’s kiss had been so damn scorching, he felt like the soles of his feet were still burning.
“You’re not so hot in bed either,” Sloan mocked.
“The fuck I’m not. I went five times the other night.”
“So?”
“So? That’s a goddamn superhuman performance.”
“If you say so.”
Rylan hesitated, wondering if he was taking them down a dangerous path again. But the question had been biting at his tongue for days now, and the whiskey was loosening said tongue. “Why didn’t you join in? You afraid to touch my dick?” His groin tightened at the thought of Sloan’s big hand wrapped around him.
“Not particularly.”
“Are dicks a turnoff for you?” Rylan pushed.
“Haven’t been in the past.”
“So it’s me.”
“Never said that.”
“I give damn good head.” He waggled his eyebrows. “And not just to the ladies.”
Sloan smirked. “Sounds like a lot of drunken boasting.”
“Sounds like you need a replay.”
“You don’t have a partner,” Sloan pointed out.
“Not true.”
“Yeah? How so?”
Their gazes locked for one long moment.
The banked heat looked familiar—Rylan saw it every time Sloan was around Reese—and he knew the same look was mirrored in his own eyes right now.
Shit, they were absolutely going down a dangerous path. Yet even knowing that, he couldn’t stop the three words that slipped from his lips.
“I have you.”
12
Something perverse was driving Sloan, something hot and twisted and fueled by a primal instinct he didn’t usually indulge in. The people of Foxworth relied on him to be dependable and steady. He was Reese’s bodyguard, her silent killer, her unshakable support.
Rylan, on the other hand, was good-humored and had a quick and ready smile for everyone. It was that charm that drew Reese to him against her better judgment, and damned if it didn’t appeal to Sloan too.
I have you.
The words hung in the air between them, triggering a jolt of heat in Sloan’s groin. One he was damn tired of denying. “That right?” he said roughly.
Rylan took a leisurely swallow of his whiskey and stared back in a long, deliberate manner. “Reese isn’t the only one who needs a good dicking.”
Sloan set down his shot glass. Then he slid off the couch and headed for the door.
He was ducking past the doorway when Rylan’s footsteps caught up with him. Wordlessly, the two men exited the building.
This was a bad idea. Sloan knew that. But he was drunk enough not to care, and so turned on he couldn’t think straight.