“Thank you. We’ve both lost something important to us, haven’t we?” He rested a hand on Ryder’s thigh. “Better and easier, both. You are a gift I didn’t know I needed.”
Ryder’s cheeks went bright pink, and he could see that his words were affecting the cowboy, causing a bulge in his jeans.
He slid his hand away slowly. Ryder had had an emotional day, and Charles wasn’t sure he had a handle on his own at the moment. “The way you’ve taken this on—it’s more than just a job to you, isn’t it?”
“I—I thought this weekend wasn’t about work.” Ryder’s eyes were shocked, wide and worried.
He’d hit a nerve, struck something deeper than he’d intended. “I wasn’t really asking about work, was I? I’m asking about something more personal.”
“Please, don’t fire me. I want to…be this for you. It’s important.” Ryder’s throat worked as he swallowed convulsively.
Please don’t…“What?” He leaned a little so he could look into Ryder’s eyes. “What? Ryder. Fire you? Whatever for?” Had he sounded upset? Had he given Ryder that impression? How could he possibly? He couldn’t imagine life without Ryder right now.
Ryder took his hand, holding on. “I know you’re mourning. I know I’m not supposed to feel things for you, but—I swear I’m going to be good to you.”
Oh God. What could he possibly say to that? That Ryder was already good to him? That the cowboy’s dark eyes and sweetsmile had him thinking in a way he wasn’t sure he should? Or maybe that he’d mourned Tad long, long ago and losing him was sad, but inevitable. Or maybe?—
Maybe he’d skip the words altogether.
Charles took Ryder by the chin and kissed him with more force than he’d intended, but very much on par with everything he was feeling.
Ryder opened up with a gasp, holding back for only a breath before leaning right into his kiss, those near-black eyes holding his gaze.
He broke the kiss suddenly and pulled back enough to properly return the look. He finally understood what he wanted to say. “I will be good to you too.”
“I think I’d like that, very much.” Then Ryder gave him a sweet, long, almost gentle kiss.
He accepted it, smiling to himself and relaxing. He thought he understood the plea for forgiveness now, and he hoped Ryder understood that. He also knew they had a great deal of discussion ahead of them. But this moment didn’t need discussion; this moment only needed consent.
Ryder cupped his jaw, thumb rubbing his cheek, the touch unbearably soft.
He sank back into the couch and pulled Ryder closer, letting himself indulge, fingers roaming over Ryder’s torso.
They breathed together, nice and slow, and he could feel the steady beating of Ryder’s heart, the pulse thrumming against him.
He tugged on Ryder’s shirt to untuck it and, while Ryder worked on the buttons, he loosened the belt around that tight waist. He wanted to see, to watch those hard abs move under his fingers.
Ryder shivered for him, the tiniest little moan escaping the man. It surprised him, sounding so loud in the silence of the room.
He sucked in a breath at the sudden ache in his balls as his body seemed to wake up for the first time in a long, long while. He helped Ryder remove the shirt, then tugged open those starched Wranglers, eyes glued to the tight, muscled body.
There was a smattering of scars, some that looked surgical, but more seemed random. One crescent-shaped scar had a tiny bucking bull inked on it.
He touched and investigated, allowing himself to simmer in the heat between them, enjoying the buzz of his arousal. “Beautiful,” he said, but the word may have been lost in a low growl.
“You have amazing hands.” Ryder’s legs moved restlessly, caught in his jeans.
“You have an incredible body.” He touched the tattoo, dragging a finger over it. “Clever.”
Ryder’s entire body rippled. “Yeah. It was the first hoof mark. I had to celebrate it.”
“The first.” He shook his head, smiling slightly. He couldn’t pretend to understand what went on in Ryder’s head, but it was certainly genetic. “Most of us would have decided once was enough.”
“I was raised with it, and once Roper tossed in his hat, I was right there.” Ryder stretched up tall, the bull seeming to buck.
He slid his hands up Ryder’s sides. “Undress for me. I want to see the rest of you.” Narrow hips, strong thighs, a pretty cock.
Ryder blinked, rolling away to pull off his boots and socks, then he stood, easing his jeans off. That left that fine body in nothing but a clinging pair of forest green boxer briefs.