02-Let It Ride (11 page)

“Dude. Stop already.”

Bridge jerked at the sound of Marty’s voice and turned to see three sets of eyes on him. Marty looking annoyed, Tripp amused, and Cory somewhere between entertained and lost. “What?”

“The knee thing.” Marty motioned with a flip of his hand. “It’s getting old.”

“Oh.” Bridge stopped bouncing his knee and took a long draught of his beer. “Sorry.”

He hadn’t realized he’d been doing it, but shit, how long were those guys going to keep playing poker? A man’s patience could only stretch so far. He’d opted out of playing because he didn’t have the money he knew he’d lose given all his attention would be on Eric rather than the game. That and Cory had come by again to talk shop. Now Bridge just wanted everyone to leave so he could get Eric alone. Right fucking now. Before he burst his damn seams.

Tripp clapped him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, man. The game’s almost over.”

“Shut up,” Bridge grumbled, and glared at Marty.

“What? Like I’m not going to tell Tripp?”

“Tell Tripp what?” Cory asked, leaning forward, his eyes bright with anticipation of juicy gossip.

“Nothing, kid,” Bridge said.

Cory sat up straight and threw his shoulders back. “I am not a kid. I’ll have you know I turned twenty-two just last month.”

Bridge couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled up at the indignant tone in Cory’s voice, and when Marty and Tripp joined in, it drew the attention of the card players fifteen feet away. But it was Eric’s gaze locking on his that made his skin burn and ache for the man’s touch.

All damn day he could think of nothing but Eric and the feel of him in his arms and kissing him and all the things he wanted to do to him, with him. Fortunately, he’d had a lot of work to provide much-needed reprieves, but when they were between demonstrations and waiting for chutes to open, his brain was completely overrun by one smoking-hot ex-New Yorker.

But tradition wouldn’t be forsaken, and for the last hour-plus, he’d sat there with Marty, Tripp, and Cory, talking everything rodeo and pickup riding and praying for that damn game to come to an end. All the while, his impatience continued its ascent into the unbearable.

Finally the last hand was tossed, and after a round of good-natured jibes and laughs, Kent leaned over to scoop up his winnings.

Bridge released a long sigh of relief and whispered, “Thank Christ.”

He stood and said his good-byes to Cory and Toby, both of whom he likely wouldn’t see again after the clinic ended tomorrow, and to Craig and Rowdy, with promises to join the table when rodeo season officially started in a couple of weeks.

Then it was him and his four friends, standing at equal intervals around the dying campfire between their trailers, and for some reason, Bridge thought it should mean something profound, like each of them possessed a quality that required the combination of all five to ignite it, like doing so formed a balance or some sort of force that could never be broken.

Like a five-point star with Eric at the top, at least to him. He knew his friends were all around him, but at the moment, the only one he could see was Eric, standing there with his hands in his pockets and a tease of a smile on his handsome face. The top point of his star.

Oh my God. I’m turning into a total sap.
Funny how it didn’t seem to bother him, though. He’d happily be a sap for Eric any day. He huffed a soft chuckle, earning curious looks from the guys. They could keep on being curious because he sure as hell wasn’t going to share his thoughts just then.

“And on that note,” Marty said with laughter in his voice. He smacked Eric playfully on the shoulder as he and Tripp turned for their RV. “Play safe, boys.”

Kent chuckled. “Shall I leave the light on?”

Bridge groaned and shook his head, turning away to avoid making eye contact with Eric. “You guys are such dicks,” he said under his breath, but a note of amusement still rang through his voice.

“Yeah, that’s why you love us,” Kent said, and turned to open the door to their rig. “Don’t forget to make sure the fire’s out before you pack it in.”

“Yes, boss,” Bridge said, laughing when Kent flipped him off without looking back.

The second the door closed and they were alone, Eric rounded on him. “What part of down low didn’t you understand?”

“Dude.” Bridge raised his hands in surrender. Yes, he felt bad that he’d let the cat out of the bag already and knew he’d get an earful for it, but at the same time, he was glad he didn’t have to try to keep how he was feeling in check. Eric pushed too many of his buttons for him not to slip up at an inopportune time. “They kind of already guessed, and besides, it’s just the guys. You know they’re all cool with us getting together.”

Eric raised an eyebrow, not seeming appeased. “There are going to be expectations now. They’ll think we’re more than we are.”

Bridge frowned, not liking the way those words grated on him. “Why don’t you want them to know?”

“It’s not that.” Eric ran a hand over his head, the movement choppy, agitated. “Did we not agree, just this morning, that there’d be no strings?
And
keep it quiet until—
if
—you’re sure you want to come out? They’re going to treat us like a couple now, and we aren’t.”

But we will be.
Bridge bit back the words and the sharp stab of disappointment in his chest at Eric’s hesitation. “I really don’t see that being a problem, and I’m getting a little tired of everyone telling me to make sure I’m sure. The second I saw you the other day, I was certain.” Bridge dipped his head to look closer into Eric’s eyes and once again saw that flicker of fear and trepidation in their depths. Whatever had happened in Eric’s past to put that there, he wanted to find a way to chase it off for good. They could be so much more together; he knew that right down to the bottom of his gut. But that would only happen if Eric gave them a chance. “I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to say anything, but Kent kind of guessed and Marty overheard, so . . .”

Eric shook his head, releasing a sigh that sounded somewhere between resignation and relief. “All guns blazing. Only way you can do anything, isn’t it?”

“That’s how I ride, baby,” he teased, hoping a little levity would push the clouds from Eric’s eyes. He took a step closer. “Forgive me?”

“You’re going to be the end of me,” Eric finally said, but he smiled, that lone dimple making a welcome appearance.

“As long as you go with a smile on your face.” Bridge stepped right into Eric’s space and gripped him by the hips, pulling him in so their bodies were flush against each other. When Eric’s arms snaked around his waist and tightened, Bridge’s whole body sighed.
Yes
. This was what he needed. Just being able to touch Eric, to feel his heat, to smell his cologne and that trace of sweat . . . That was all it took to make the world align in a sense of complete rightness. Eric did that.

“I just need you to slow down, okay?”

Bridge couldn’t do more than nod in response. He leaned down and nuzzled his nose into Eric’s neck and breathed deeply. God, that was becoming one of his favorite things. He shivered when Eric’s tongue, hot and wet, traced the curve of his earlobe and then dipped inside, drawing a soft moan up from the bottom of Bridge’s throat.

“Oh. That’s a spot, is it?” Eric’s moist breath sent a tremor rumbling through his whole body, pinging through his veins and heightening his every sense.

And it was fucking hot.

He tried to say so, but the words got all jumbled and couldn’t break free. Whatever noise of agreement he managed to make seemed to be enough, though, because Eric went at his ear again, and holy shit . . . Had he ever been this turned on before?

Bridge slid his hand down Eric’s arm, slipped it into Eric’s, and laced their fingers. He leaned into Eric’s ear and ran his tongue along the shell, just the way Eric had done to him, and smiled at the tremble he drew from the man. He whispered, “I really think you should take me to your camper now.”

Eric leaned back and looked at him, a mixture of anticipation and apprehension seeping back into his expression.

Nope that wouldn’t do. “You look a little worried.”

“You sure this is what you want?”

Bridge rocked his hips forward, letting Eric feel just how sure he was. “All guns ablaze.”

Hesitation seeped from Eric’s violet depths, and they darkened, flecks of silver flashed, and his voice was a low rumble when he spoke. “Put out the fire.”

Not letting go of Eric’s hand, he kicked dirt into the small pit until any still-glowing embers had been extinguished. “Let’s go.” The urgency in his voice matched the urgency of his steps as they walked the short distance and stumbled into Eric’s camper like a couple of hormonal teenagers.

Bridge froze just inside the doorway, staring at the small space while Eric squeezed in behind him and locked the door. There was almost no room for one grown man, let alone two. On one side of a narrow hall was a micro kitchen, on the other side, a bench seat running the length of the camper and a tiny table. But more importantly . . . “Where the hell’s the bed?”

Eric pointed to a cubbyhole-sized space at the front of the camper above the cab of the truck. It couldn’t have been more than three feet high.

There was no way. “Are you serious? We won’t both fit up there.”

“Don’t worry,” Eric said, wrapping his arms around Bridge’s waist from behind, palms flat on his stomach, and kissed his ear. “The table drops down to make a bigger bed.”

“Mmm, good.” He let his head fall back onto Eric’s shoulder, and his hat fell to the floor. So long as Eric kept doing that, nothing else really mattered. And it wasn’t like he’d never made out in the backseat of a car before, so this was a step up. “That feels so good.”

“Yeah?” Eric kissed the side of his neck and gently sucked the skin there, teasing it with his tongue. “How about that?”

“Yes. More.” He turned in Eric’s arms and lowered his head to claim Eric’s mouth. All day he’d been replaying the last kiss they’d shared. All day he’d been dreaming of kissing this man again. And now, finally, he got his wish, and somehow it was even better than the last time. They fit perfectly. Their noses didn’t bump because he seemed to instinctively know which way to angle his head, and Eric seemed to know how to tease and caress his tongue, how much to give and take, how to deepen the kiss to the point where Bridge felt like his whole body was melting into Eric’s.

He pulled back just enough to swallow a gulp of air. “Fuck, Eric.” Their lips brushed as he spoke, his voice a rasp. “No one has ever turned me on like you do. It’s like all the wires in my brain short-circuit.”

Eric leaned back a little and ducked his head, a slight blush coloring his cheeks. “I bet you say that to all the cowboys.”

“You’re not a cowboy.” Bridge raised a hand and ran it over Eric’s head, like he’d been wanting to for days now. The close-cropped hair under his palm was fuzzy, softer than he’d expected. “You don’t even have a proper hat.”

Eric leaned into Bridge’s gentle massage and sighed. “I’ll get one. Tomorrow.”

“You barely know how to ride a horse.”

“Ah, but I know how to ride you.” Eric’s accent had thickened, his voice lower.

Bridge stared down at Eric, who looked up through a fan of dark eyelashes. Simple words, but the images they conjured in his mind had his synapses snapping like popcorn.
Danger, danger, Will Robinson.
“Yes. God, yes.”

Eric graced him with a sly, seductive smile. “We’ll get there. We have lots of options to explore.”

“Then let’s get exploring!” There was that childhood Christmas-morning feeling again, when Bridge had been so excited, he couldn’t decide where to start, so he just dove in headfirst.

Which is what he tried to do with Eric’s clothing now. Trembling, he pushed Eric’s jacket out of the way and began unbuttoning his shirt with one hand while tugging at his belt buckle with the other. He needed more hands. Eric laughed, the sound like music to his ears.

“Easy there, Quick Draw.” Eric placed his hands over Bridge’s to slow him down. “First, I’m going to give you the best blowjob of your life.”

Bridge stopped. So did his breath. And maybe his heart, too. Then a deep, chest-rumbling groan rattled up his throat. “Yes, yes, yes. Please, yes.”

Eric guided Bridge’s hands to his sides and then let go and spun them around so Bridge’s back was to the door. “Stay,” he said, smirking when Bridge scowled at him, and turned to walk the few feet to the end of the sitting area.

“Really?” Bridge put his hands on his hips but had to drop them when his elbow banged into the tiny fridge. He rubbed at it absently. “You’re going to fire me up like that and then walk away?”

Eric only slanted a crooked smile over his shoulder, leaning down to release a latch under the little table. He lowered it until it was level with the bench, pulled the cushions down and placed them on top of the table, and then yanked the sheets off the bed up top and haphazardly spread them out over the cushions.

He turned back to Bridge with that big dimpled grin in place and spread his arm over the table-bed in invitation. “This might be a little more comfortable than standing in that narrow entryway, don’t you think?”

Bridge barely took two full strides before he was once again plastered against Eric’s lithe body, his momentum tipping Eric over and sending them both crashing onto the makeshift bed in a tangle of legs and arms. It creaked a loud complaint, and Bridge braced himself for the give, but it held their weight. The bed was just wide enough for the two of them, if they didn’t mind spooning, but it was too short for him to stretch out to his full height. His feet dangled off the side, and he chuckled. “This Tonka truck of yours is too small. We’re definitely going to need a bigger bed.”

Something dark passed through Eric’s eyes too fast for Bridge to decipher, but he forgot all about trying to figure it out when Eric pushed at his shoulders, rolling him over and straddling his hips in one swift move. The shock of being so easily manhandled charged him in a way he’d never thought possible, quickening his pulse, stealing his breath, and making a newfound need for more roar in his head. That was . . . unexpected, exciting, enticing. Then Eric’s weight settled on him, butt nestling against Bridge’s rapidly swelling cock, and another wave of need tore through him. Eric rocked a little and then leaned forward, dropping to support himself on arms that bracketed Bridge’s head, and instead of the kiss he’d expected, Eric ran his tongue along the groove of Bridge’s chin.