Riding Partner

An Ellora’s Cave Romantica Publication

www.ellorascave.com

Riding Partner ISBN # 1-4199-0769-7 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. Riding Partner Copyright© 2006 Mary Winter Edited by Kelli Kwiatkowski. Photography and cover art by Les Byerley. Electronic book Publication: November 2006 This book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 443103502. This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the authors’ imagination and used fictitiously.

Content Advisory: S – ENSUOUS E – ROTIC X - TREME Ellora’s Cave Publishing offers three levels of Romantica™ reading entertainment: S (S-ensuous), E (Erotic), and X (X-treme). The following material contains graphic sexual content meant for mature readers. This story has been rated E–rotic. S-ensuous love scenes are explicit and leave nothing to the imagination. E-rotic love scenes are explicit, leave nothing to the imagination, and are high in volume per the overall word count. E-rated titles might contain material that some readers find objectionable—in other words, almost anything goes, sexually. E-rated titles are the most graphic titles we carry in terms of both sexual language and descriptiveness in these works of literature. X-treme titles differ from E-rated titles only in plot premise and storyline execution. Stories designated with the letter X tend to contain difficult or controversial subject matter not for the faint of heart.

RIDING PARTNER

Mary Winter

Trademarks Acknowledgement The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction: Chicago Cubs: Chicago National League Ball Club, Inc. Coke: Coca-Cola Company Lincoln Navigator: Ford Motor Company Visa: Visa International Service Association

Riding Partner

Prologue

2004—Athens, Greece A thousand pounds of pure adrenaline galloped between Derek’s legs. Eyes up, back straight, knees and ankles absorbing the shock, he focused on the tall plank jump before him. The brightly colored boards advertised Visa, where everyone wanted to be. Right now, he wanted to be safely on the other side of the jump and heading into the last triple oxer before home. Mentally he counted out the strides. One. Two. Three. And jump! Man and beast hurled through the air together. The force of the horse’s jump created a breeze that tugged at the hair not hidden beneath his helmet and fluttered the ends of the mare’s mane against his face. The horse’s front hooves hit the ground, followed by the back, immediately collecting for the next stride. Derek wanted to look over his shoulder, to listen for the rattling of boards hitting the ground, but he couldn’t. Not now. Only five fences separated him and his lover’s horse from an Olympic gold medal. He wouldn’t let Charles, or the mare, down now. The mare strained against the bit. “Easy,” he crooned, using legs and hands to soothe her. Derek steered her into the tight corner leading to the three-jump combination. A hush of anticipation settled over the crowd. The sound of the mare’s snorting breaths mingled with the pounding of his heart. He struggled not to think about the last jump, tried not to think about the stakes. But how could he not when his country might be catapulted to the podium? With a clear round the American team members could wear gold medals around their necks. Sensing his tension, the mare stiffened. With a nudge of his leg and a soft touch on the reins, Derek coaxed the right response out of the horse as she settled into the two strides before the combination.

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Think only about the jump. With a deep breath, he relaxed his fingers, squeezed his calves and felt the mare push off the ground. They flew over the nearly six-foot jump, landing, collecting, and then they were airborne again. The wide jump demanded all the mare’s strength, all his concentration, and then they were down again. Was that a hoof he heard hitting the rail? The crowd next to the jump gasped, and he worried. And then the mare launched herself again, flying far above the last jump as if she too knew what was at stake. They landed and when he turned, he saw all three jumps still upright. Triumph poured through him. They were going to do it. He was going to ride an Olympic gold medal-worthy round. The last to go in the jump-off, he felt the stares from the packed arena, felt the stares of his lover and of the other three competitors who’d gone before him in the jump-off. The mare flew over the liverpool jump, not even startling at the six inches of blue water underneath it. She landed well past the white mark, her hooves clear of the water. And then they were headed for home. One more jump separated him from destiny. Derek focused on the last vertical jump. Planks of white wood painted with the Olympic rings created the impression of a solid wall. Above the planks, suspended from two nearly flat jump cups, hung a single red-and-white-striped rail. Though the jump looked solid, any touch from the horse and it would topple. Adding to the difficulty, flowers and streamers fanned out from the side of the jump in a colorful distraction. Time slowed. The flexion of each leg hitting the ground in a steady four-beat gallop rolled through his mind. He felt each hoof hit the ground, counted out each stride with agonizing slowness. No good rushing now, though the clock ticked past with damning hundredths of seconds. His mental stopwatch told him he did well. Derek refused to doubt his gut. The fence, just barely five feet tall, sat directly ahead.

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Derek looked between the mare’s ears. He centered them on the jump, knew exactly where he wanted his takeoff point to be. One stride completed, three to go. The crowd sat, poised, its collective breath held in anticipation. In his mind, he counted out the beats of the second stride, the infinitesimal moment when all four of the mare’s feet left the ground making his heart fly. The stride finished, bringing him that much closer to the fence. He lived for this—riding fast, jumping high and doing it all to the background noise of a roaring crowd. Charles’ words echoed in his mind. “She gets quick when she knows she’s about to finish. Keep her steady.” Derek kept his fingers quiet on the reins and the pressure of his legs steady against the mare’s sides. Another stride completed and they arrived at the fence. He held his position as the mare shifted her weight onto her hind legs. With a powerful thrust, she pushed off the ground. Stretched over the mare’s neck, Derek glanced over at the stands. He saw Charles and an up-and-coming Greek horse trainer sitting together. A frown pulled the corners of his lips down and he felt the mare’s balance shift. Derek forced his gaze between the horse’s ears but it was too late. The mare flattened in response to her rider’s wandering thoughts, her body no longer a perfect arc over the jump. He held his breath as the front legs reached for the ground. Thunk. The mare’s hind hoof hit the rail. Derek refused to react, riding the jump through to the finish. He heard the crowd’s groan, the squeak of the rail in the cups. The mare landed and all he could think about was racing past the finish line. The rail clattered against the ground. The hollow sound shot straight to his gut, so sickening he wanted to retch. Horse and rider flew past the finish line and the clock stopped. Derek looked over his shoulder.

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There, on the last jump, the rail lay on the ground. Even now, though no one would ride after him, the ground crew hurried forward to replace the jump. The speaker crackled to life. “Rider number thirty-nine, Derek Whitten, riding Jubilance, owned by Charles DeMorinson and Two Fox Farms. Time—forty-point fourfive seconds. Four faults.” Derek groaned. He’d ridden faster than everyone else, but at what cost? The four penalty points for the fallen rail negated the two-tenths of a second he’d saved. He’d ridden hell-bent for leather in an attempt to get the gold medal, and a foolish moment of inattention lost him the chance. He listened with half an ear to the announcer, took in the praise for his riding and the condolences for his loss from the other riders. When the final standings shook out, he and Charles’ mare earned the individual silver, keeping the American team firmly in second place and granting them all a second-place silver medal. The victory gallop, with him riding second, passed in a blur and he barely had time to mutter his apologies to Charles as he grabbed Jubi’s reins before being hustled with the rest of the American show jumping team to the platform. He endured two medal ceremonies standing one platform lower than he should have, wondering how he would face Charles. Derek hurried back to the barn, if onlys running through his thoughts as the clatter of the final rail echoed in his mind.

***** All the way back to the hotel the Olympic flags mocked him. People stopped to stare at the identifying badge hanging around his neck and tried to make small talk in the elevator. They saw him as a hero, an athlete, and right now Derek felt like neither. He felt like a failure. He’d blown his chance to prove to Charles that he could handle this level of competition. He’d always been the lesser partner—both in experience and financially—when it came to their dream of combining their farms. He wanted—no,

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needed—to prove to Charles that he was his equal in some way. That he, too, could shine on the international stage. He hurried back to the room and, once inside, closed the door and sagged against it. He’d proven to Charles once and for all that he wasn’t capable of training his horses. Anger rose inside him, an old hurt that never quite healed. Two years ago Charles had needed someone to train his horses and instead of accepting help from Derek, the man he claimed to love, he had turned to someone else—a trainer whose methods Derek didn’t agree with. Charles had argued that Derek was too busy with his rookie season on the circuit, that he already had his hands full training his veteran campaigner, the horse he later sold in order to buy Dio. But those excuses rang hollow and Derek hadn’t believed them. Charles might have shared his bed, but when it came to the heart and soul of the man—his livelihood—he’d entrusted it to a complete stranger. It had rankled, and throughout the years made Derek wonder exactly what place he held in the Englishman’s life. Derek flung his suitcase on the bed, determined to get out and get out now. Dragging his fingers through his sweaty hair, he grabbed the jackets hanging in the closet and tossed them in the garment bag hanging beside them. From the pile on the floor, he tossed dirty items into a laundry bag to separate them from the clean clothes and filled his suitcase to the brim. Exhausted from his ride and the emotional roller coaster on which he found himself, Derek sank to the bed. He couldn’t leave Charles like this, could he? He expelled a harsh breath. Yeah, he could. He’d seen Charles in the stand with the Greek man and knew what it meant—a European base, another stranger to train his horses. Someone else to interfere in the dream that was supposed to belong to just the two of them. There’d been a lot of people interfering lately, and right now, Derek didn’t know if he recognized the dream anymore. He doubted his and Charles’ farms would ever merge. Doubted there’d be the happily-ever-after he’d craved. He wouldn’t let

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Charles hurt him like that again. The gorgeous Greek in the stands had finally turned the slippery slope of their relationship into an avalanche. “I’m sorry,” he said, practicing, words coming easily when Charles wasn’t in the room. “I can’t sit by and watch you involve yet another stranger in your farm when I’m right there. If it’s a European base, I want to know about it and I want the opportunity to add my input. I thought you valued my opinion.” Here, in the quiet room, the words sounded rational, calm. With his emotions running high and Charles’ stoic demeanor, he didn’t know if he could remain so. Derek closed the lid of his suitcase and fastened it. It had been decided that he and Jubi would go back to the States together. Not flying with his horse, Charles had different arrangements, but at least that kept them from being on the same flight back home. He glanced down at the luggage, suddenly realizing that they weren’t flying out for two more days. For a moment he thought about getting his own room in the hotel, but he doubted there’d be any available. One of the riders had mentioned he was without a roommate and had an empty bed to offer. It’d be better than sitting around here, with Charles’ presence only reminding him of his failure. But if he went back to the athletes’ village, he’d be reminded that he wasn’t an athlete. He’d fucked up. Jubi dropped the rail and their chance at a gold medal was now only so much water under an Athenian bridge. The click of the keycard in the lock startled him. The hotel room door opened. Derek whirled to face it, not expecting his roommate back so soon. “You’re here. Good. I was hoping you’d be.” Charles glanced at the suitcase on the bed and his eyes widened. “You’re leaving?” He frowned then looked back at Derek. Hurt shadowed his eyes. Shit. Derek never envisioned his Olympic adventure would end up like this. His gaze fell on the individual silver medal, still in its box next to the television. He’d already packed the team medal, figuring he’d been, even if not very successfully, a part of the team. He didn’t want the individual medal, didn’t feel as if he earned it. It would 10

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only remind him why he wasn’t good enough to train Charles’ horses. Right now, he didn’t know if he was madder at himself or at Charles. “If you’re going to leave, don’t forget your medal.” Charles strode over to the television, picked it up and held it out to Derek. He shook his head. “Keep it. Jubi’s your horse.” “Where are you going?” His calm voice contrasted with the anger humming through Derek. He wanted Charles to scream, to yell, to do something—but he never did. Just this ever-present, calm English façade. “To the athletes’ village. One of the riders’ roommates went back earlier in the week so he has an empty bunk.” Derek stared at the damning box containing the silver medal. His soon-to-be former lover stared at him, worry and confusion swimming in his deep blue eyes. His light brown hair looked as if he’d run his fingers through it many times, and Derek knew he had. The firm set of his jaw told Derek that Charles wasn’t going to take no for an answer. “I see.” Charles said. “I understand why you might want to go, but if you do, take the medal. You earned it.” “No, I didn’t. I fucked up, let Jubilance get too fast at the last fence. You take it. Jubi did all the work, not me.” Derek struggled to hold back his anger. “You know, all these years I’ve always held it against you that when you needed someone to help train your horses, it hadn’t been me. Maybe you were right. I’m not half the rider you are, and I know if you’d been on board we would have gotten the gold.” Derek refused to ask why Charles had been so chummy with the Greek trainer, fearing a repeat of what had happened before. Charles had been talking about trying to find a way to maintain a tie with Europe for international competition. Charles held the medal between them like some sort of accusation. “Take it,” he insisted. “No. Jubi is your horse. She’s the one who deserves the medal. I’m just the guy who ruined her chances for the gold.” Derek stared at the box. 11

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“Derek, Jubi doesn’t care whether she won gold, silver or last place. She’s in her stall with a warm bran mash and is quite happy. She went out there and did her best. As did you. Please take the medal.” Derek couldn’t take it anymore. “All right,” he sighed. “If you really want me to.” He’d take the medal with him and ship it back to Charles once he returned home. He took the box and unzipped his suitcase, dropping the box on top, not even wanting it in his carry-on luggage. No, he might reach for a book or his PDA on the flight and then close his fingers around the damned thing. Charles stepped forward, the brace on his leg making his gait awkward. “Look, I know you think you failed.” He laid his hand on Derek’s shoulder. “But you didn’t. I certainly couldn’t have ridden her out to pasture, let alone in the Olympics. You were the one who stepped up when I had my accident during the trials. You rode both Dio and Jubi and it got you into the Olympic trials. You could have brought Dio. And two years ago you were busy making a name for yourself. I wouldn’t have wanted to saddle you with the burden of the farm. I’ve told you that before.” “I know,” he said, though a part of him still didn’t quite believe him. “I could have brought Dio, but—” Charles held up his hand, clearly on a roll. “You could have brought Dio, but he’s a young horse and still recovering from a pulled tendon. There are many more chances at the Olympics for him. You rode Jubi to a silver medal, and you brought the team a silver medal in the process. I don’t think that’s anything to be ashamed of. I couldn’t be happier.” “So why aren’t you smiling?” “Because I hate fighting with you.” Charles sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed, keeping his bad leg stretched before him. “I know what you’re thinking. All the questions, the ‘what-ifs’ or ‘maybes’.” He gestured at his leg. “You think I haven’t done that? If only I hadn’t been stupid and let that green gelding throw me…”

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“So you have thought about it. What would’ve happened if you’d ridden Jubi?” Derek whirled away, not wanting to watch Charles’ face when he answered. He slammed the lid closed on his suitcase and zipped it once more. “Of course I’ve thought about it. I’m human! Riding in the Olympics is my dream too. As far as my hiring outside help two years ago…god, Derek, I thought you’d be past that by now. And if you’re worried about Anastacius, he just wanted me to evaluate his horses. He wanted my advice on importing some animals from Germany next year. That’s all. And if I had fun talking shop with him, then please forgive me. I’m not thinking of using him to train my horses or to help me set up a European base, though we did talk about it some. Trust runs both ways.” “Yeah, it does.” Derek swallowed hard. He stepped back, leaned against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest. “This isn’t just about the Olympics, Derek. I know the fact that your mom abandoned you and your dad when you were little still haunts you. And I know you’re afraid I’m going to do the same thing because it’s happened to you before. But I’ve told you why I didn’t ask you to help me train, and I’m not looking for a new lover. If I haven’t proven to you by now how much I care, then I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to.” He lurched to his feet and turned toward the unused double bed on which the suitcase sat before turning back to Derek. “I love you. If you can’t see that, then I don’t know what else to do. We’ve both made mistakes in this relationship. Forgive and forget. Let’s move forward. My horse and your riding earned us a silver medal, isn’t that good enough?” Derek heard his unspoken words. Charles loved him, wasn’t that good enough? With a heavy sigh, Derek dropped his chin to his chest. He couldn’t look at Charles. Even with the brace on his leg, his lover was a very handsome man. Jeans cupped legs muscled from riding and the T-shirt stretched across a muscled chest. Derek itched to run his fingers through his hair and kiss the anger from his lips. He’d been swayed by good looks in the past. “I don’t know,” he answered honestly. “I just don’t know.”

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Stepping forward, he grabbed the suitcase. He didn’t want to think about them sleeping in different beds, didn’t want to think about what would happen when they got home. He expected them to end on an explosion, not a dying whimper. Derek stopped by the door. “I’ll see you when we get back to the States.” He opened the door and stepped into the hallway, suspecting he probably never would.

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Chapter One Present

Derek removed his Chicago Cubs baseball cap and wiped beads of sweat from his brow. He leaned on the railing of the arena, watching Charles DeMorinson put the Dutch Warmblood stallion, Kiverosk, through his paces. Although his trained eye took in Charles’ riding skills, his gaze was more on the tight breeches as they hugged the rider’s thighs and the knee-high riding boots that added length to his already long legs. With subtle signals from legs and hands, Charles sent the dark brown horse over a series of jumps. Derek closed his eyes against the pain that assaulted his senses. He remembered how magnificently Charles used to pleasure him. He remembered the whimper of a fight after the Olympics. And he remembered the loneliness of not seeing Charles again. Now he was back at the man’s farm waiting to see if he wanted to buy his prize horse. Taking a deep breath, Derek tried to shove the memories out of his mind. Derek’s jeans grew tight and he shifted position against the fence. He promised himself a few more moments before making his presence known. As if he were privy to Derek’s thoughts, Charles turned the stallion and headed across the arena directly at him. Derek willed his body to behave, glad a fence board hid the crotch of his jeans from view. He’d seen some of the men Charles had entertained after their breakup—thin, frat-boy types who probably made Charles do all the work. Derek tried to chase his thoughts into another direction as Charles approached and slowed the stallion. “Derek,” he said, surprise in his voice. “What brings you here?” “I need to discuss some business with you, Charles.” Derek tried to keep his voice even, tried not to let Charles see the pleasure just hearing his voice had given him.

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“I see,” he said. If he held any touch of regret, it didn’t show. “Well, since you’re here, what do you think?” he asked in a jovial voice, patting the neck of his stallion. “Not bad. He’s come a long way,” Derek replied. He refused to glance at Charles’ long legs gripping the barrel of the horse or think about how good the man’s ass looked in the tight-fitting breeches. “Think you’ll be ready for The Meadows?” “Probably. With lots of hard work from Kiverosk here.” “Great.” He feigned enthusiasm. At each show he’d known Charles was competing his horses, and every time Derek struggled not to see him. Not to watch the arena while he competed. “Why don’t you meet me in the study in about half an hour? I want to take the old boy here over a couple more jumps before we call it a day. Then we can talk, all right?” “Yeah, that’ll be fine.” If Charles noticed that Derek’s smile seemed superficial, he didn’t show it. “You can wait inside if you want. It’s bloody hot out here,” Charles replied, a hint of his English accent slipping through. Without waiting for a reply, Charles turned Kiverosk back toward the center of the arena and nudged the stallion into a brisk canter.

***** Twenty-nine minutes later, Derek anxiously sat in Charles’ study. He’d already made a circuit of the room, once again reacquainting himself with the trophies and pictures that adorned the wall. A state-of-the-art computer system sat in the corner, and books on horses and horsemanship lined the floor-to-ceiling bookcases. Nestled among the books were the television and VCR on which they had spent many hours watching training films. Derek crossed his legs and leaned back in the leather chair opposite Charles’ desk. One missed jump and their relationship had fallen as easily as the brightly painted obstacle itself. Derek removed his cap and ran his fingers through his hair. They’d

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fought over nothing really, when he looked back on it, and he’d walked out of their room and Charles’ life with barely a second thought. Footsteps in the hall drew him from his musings. Charles stepped into the room. A pair of tight jeans revealed the taut, corded muscles of his thighs and calves, achieved from hours of riding. His button-down shirt hung open, revealing a large expanse of his tanned chest. A small trail of dark hair began between his nipples and arrowed down to disappear beneath the waistband of his jeans. Dragging his gaze back to Charles’ face, Derek noticed the water still dripping from his damp hair. He must have showered in the barn. “What can I do for you?” Charles’ businesslike words forced Derek’s mind away from his physical charms and back to the real reason he was here. “I need to sell Dionysus,” Derek said. He closed his eyes against the pain welling deep inside him at the need to sell his beloved horse. When he opened his eyes, he saw Charles had seated himself behind the desk. His gaze held compassion, giving Derek the strength to take a deep breath and continue. “You know my dad died last month,” he said, hurrying through the words before grief could catch up with him. “I never took his name off the farm’s title and it turns out he mortgaged it to the hilt. My equity is gone and he left me with some pretty hefty bills that I hadn’t known about. If I want to even think about keeping the farm I’m going to have to sell Dionysus, and I want him to go to you. I’ve thought about selling the farm, but that raises other complications.” Derek leaned forward, resting his folded hands on the edge of the desk. “I didn’t know,” Charles replied. He leaned forward and laid his hand across his ex-lover’s. Derek tried to ignore the rush of warmth that flooded through him. “I’m sorry. I had heard that your father died, had tried to call a few times, but you were never home.” He pulled his hand back, opened his desk drawer and pulled out a checkbook. “How much do you need?”

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Derek shook his head. “I won’t be indebted to you, Charles. I need far more than a simple loan. Selling Dionysus will only be the tip of what I need to repay Dad’s gambling debts.” He exhaled a sigh. “You know, I thought things were going to be all right when his job transferred him to California.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I thought Dad had stopped gambling. That’s what he told me anyway, and every time I visited him out there it really looked like he had made a new life for himself. I can’t believe how wrong I was.” Charles rose to his feet, walked around the desk and perched on the edge so he sat right in front of Derek. Reaching out, he laid a hand on the man’s shoulder. “I don’t want to take Dio from you, and I’m so sorry you have to go through this.” Charles leaned forward and lightly brushed the pad of his thumb against Derek’s full lower lip. “I’ve thought about this moment ever since you left…when we’d finally be able to talk again. God, Derek, I’m so sorry. I’m not going to compound my errors by taking Dio, too.” Derek stifled a chuckle. Reaching out, he placed his hand on Charles’ thigh. Heat radiated into his palm and he tried to ignore the fact that if he moved his hand a few inches higher he could cup Charles’ erection through his jeans. “Damn it, Charles, if you made errors then so did I, and if you knew how many times—” Charles placed his fingers on Derek’s lips. “Shhh,” he said. “I know.” Reaching down, he took Derek’s hand in his own and brought it to his lips. He placed tiny kisses along the palm, giving gentle nips with his teeth. “If you knew how long I dreamed of doing this.” Derek stood. He stepped forward, placing himself within the cradle of Charles’ spread thighs. It felt so good, so right to be reunited, especially after all his recent pain. Gently he pulled his hand away and leaned forward to kiss Charles. He brushed his lips across his friend’s, feeling his own cock harden with desire. He nibbled the man’s lower lip, traced the seam with this tongue and felt him open his mouth for him. The past fell away and suddenly it was just the two of them, as if nothing had ever happened.

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With a groan, Charles slid his hands around him, allowing them to trail across Derek’s back before cupping his shoulders to hold him close. With his tongue, Derek coaxed and teased Charles until he returned the kiss with as much fervor. Derek cupped his hips, rocking him into his erection. He felt the ridge of Charles’ arousal through the jeans and he moaned in pleasure. Derek slid his hands beneath Charles’ shirt, tracing his hands over contours both new and familiar at the same time, feeling the hard muscles beneath the skin. The need for air parted their lips, and Derek sucked in a large breath. He flicked his thumbs across Charles’ nipples, delighting in the shudder that raced through the man’s body. “Wait,” Charles said. He leaned back and opened a desk drawer, pulling out a box before closing the drawer again, and Derek smiled when he saw the package of condoms that Charles set next to them on the desk. Leaning forward, Charles kissed Derek again, pulling the polo shirt free of his jeans and allowing his hands to begin their own exploration over his torso. He stroked Derek’s tongue with his own, long strokes that made Derek think of his ex-lover’s lips around his cock. Charles sucked on his tongue, causing a pull lower in Derek’s body. Sliding his hands over Charles’ chest, Derek paused at the waistband of his jeans. He opened them, undoing each button with shaking fingers. Charles’ cock rose through the opening, unimpeded by underwear, and Derek smelled the heady musk of him. He curled his hands around the shaft, stroking gently from base to tip. Charles moaned. Derek tightened his hands, stroking harder, and Charles reached for the waistband of Derek’s jeans. “I want to fuck you,” Charles said as he unfastened the button and slowly lowered the zipper. Through his briefs, Derek’s cock bulged against the opening, and Charles cupped him through the cotton fabric. “Yes,” Derek hissed as Charles peeled down his briefs and jeans.

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Charles stroked him, the rhythmic pumping of his hand mirroring Derek’s own motions. “The floor,” Charles said, releasing him long enough to reach for the box of condoms and gesture to the plush carpet. Derek nodded, relinquishing his grip on Charles’ cock and stepping back. He watched as Charles stepped from his jeans before sinking his naked body to the soft carpet. Derek stood there, savoring the sight for a moment, his gaze resting on the thick staff of Charles’ cock. Removing his clothing, Derek joined him on the carpet, reclining on his side with his head near Charles’ groin, his own cock just inches from Charles’ face. Charles sat up and quickly sheathed his cock with a condom, and Derek lowered his lips to it. The slight mint flavor delighted him and he gently drew Charles’ organ into his mouth. With his tongue he began to lick with long strokes along the underside of the cock. He moaned as Charles tangled the fingers of his right hand in his hair and began to pump into his mouth. With his left, he rolled a condom onto Derek’s cock before turning his head to the side to suck it. Derek moaned at the feel of Charles’ hot mouth circling his flesh. Each touch of his tongue along the length of him sent waves of pleasure spiraling through his body. He thrust his dick into Charles’ mouth, enjoying the feel of the wet warmth surrounding him. Charles’ lips and tongue drove him to the edge of orgasm and Derek stiffened, breathing deeply, trying to hold it off. Charles pulled his lips from Derek’s cock. “Come for me,” he said huskily, then began to suck once more. Derek groaned. He sucked even harder on Charles’ cock. He was so close to coming his balls ached, and with a final thrust into Charles’ mouth he exploded. Charles groaned, his hand squeezing Derek’s balls, and Derek shuddered at the force of his release. Charles pulled his lips away, smiling. “Kneel for me,” he whispered.

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Derek complied, rising to his knees. He felt Charles move behind him and a moment later, Charles’ finger, wet with saliva, caressed his ass. The nimble digit worked at his opening, sliding the tip in and out slowly as Charles prepared him for a larger penetration. Derek moaned, thrusting his hips against the movements of Charles’ fingers. Over and over Derek felt the press just inside his anus until Charles slid first one finger, then two completely inside. Derek growled low in his throat. He wanted to feel more, wanted to feel Charles’ hard cock probing his opening. Removing his fingers and grabbing Derek’s hips, Charles fulfilled his wish, sliding his shaft into his body. “Oh, yeah!” Derek groaned as Charles reached around him to discard his condom and stroke his already hardening cock. Charles buried himself in the tight sheath of Derek’s ass, groaning against his lover’s back. He pulled out slowly, his hand working furiously against Derek’s stiff rod. He thrust again, a little harder this time, settling into a delicious rhythm of give and take that left both men gasping for breath and moaning with pleasure. Derek felt full. The slapping of Charles’ balls against his ass and the exquisite drawing and thrusting of their bodies made his world narrow down to the slide of fingers and dick against his body. The rhythmic thrusting combined with the pumping of Charles’ hand to bring Derek close to climax again. He felt Charles stiffen behind him, a long, low, masculine growl filling his ears as his partner came. Panting, Charles pulled his luscious cock from his ass and Derek’s hand cupped his partner’s on his dick as he came again. His cum shot from the end of his shaft to cover their hands. Charles wrapped his arm around Derek, drawing him back down to the carpet. The two men lay there, breathing heavily with the force of their release. With his hand

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resting on Charles’ chest, he thought for a moment that it was just like before their fight, when they’d come in from exercising the horses to fuck. Charles leaned on his elbow, propping his head on his hand. Looking down at Derek, he traced patterns on his chest with his fingers. “Why don’t you sell the farm?” he asked. Derek’s eyes widened and Charles gently placed his fingers over his lips. “Look, you always used to bring Dio over here to exercise anyway, and I certainly have room for more horses. Move in with me, Derek. Without you it’s been hell.” Derek stared at the man with whom he’d just had sex. “If I sell the farm, I don’t think I’ll have enough money to pay Dad’s debts. He’d mortgaged his condo too. Even after I sold it there was about ten thousand left to pay on a second mortgage, and he put a third mortgage on the farm.” Derek crawled away, reaching for his clothes. Unable to believe the words that had just come out of Charles’ mouth, he shook his head. “No. I can’t.” He had imagined this scene in his head a hundred times, a thousand times, and never had it involved Charles requesting they move in together. Mouth suddenly dry, Derek swallowed hard. Back in Athens he’d thought he wanted—no, needed—to hear reassurances. And now, even with so much time passed since that defining event in their relationship, Derek still didn’t know if he could go back or if he’d be forever haunted by memories that should have been dead and buried. Maybe he’d never get past what happened with his mother or his constant fear that Charles might eventually leave him. “C’mon. It makes perfect since. You wouldn’t have to worry about the farm, and you can’t deny that selling it would pay off a large portion of the debt. A few prize checks and you’ll be in the clear. We both know Dio has the talent, and you can help me campaign my horses as well. I won’t mind the help, and I’ve missed you.” Charles sighed. “I hated the way we left things in Athens. I’m glad you’re here.” Charles made it all sound so easy. “Then why didn’t you come see me between then and now? You know where the farm is. I haven’t moved. If you’re so happy to see me then why didn’t you try to sooner?” He rose to his feet and stepped toward the door.

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“The phone works both ways,” Charles muttered as he struggled into his pants. “Why didn’t you come see me? Don’t leave. Not like this. Not when you’ve just returned.” “Why not? I came here to ask you if you wanted to buy my horse. You said you didn’t.” He pressed his lips together. He didn’t want to be an ass but damn it, the sex had caught him off guard. He still had feelings for Charles and the last thing he wanted was to go through the hurt again. Making it this far seemed like an accomplishment. Maybe he still hadn’t stopped beating himself over a dropped rail. But he knew the more he stood there looking at Charles, remembering his fingers, his lips, his cock, the less he wanted to leave. “Look, I—” Charles stopped then shrugged. “You’re not going to listen to me, so why bother? I won’t take Dio from you. I’ve offered you money. You’ve turned me down. As much as I want you to stay, if you want to leave I won’t stop you. No matter how much it hurts.” Derek stared at him for a long moment then turned his back to Charles. He had learned long ago it worked out best if he did the leaving. Hurt less that way. Somewhere deep inside there was still a twelve-year-old boy wondering why his mother never picked him up from school that day long ago. When his father had finally picked him up and brought him home, they had both found her gone. Behind him, he heard the phone ring and Charles’ clipped answer. That was his cue to leave, which he did, closing the door quietly behind him. He returned to his truck, wanting nothing more than to go back inside and pick up where they’d left off, though preferably in bed. Derek shook his head. He started his truck and backed up slowly to turn the vehicle around. Searching the house, he saw the den window and Charles silhouetted in it. Through the curtains, he couldn’t see if Charles looked toward him or not. He threw a halfhearted wave in the air before steering his truck down the drive and turning onto the highway.

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Perhaps it was for the best. He could list Dio on a few well-traveled websites and sell him. At this point, selling the farm would cause more complications than it solved, though he had to admit Charles’ financial help would be nice. But he wouldn’t take the easy way out. He’d walked away in Athens and had spent the months since trying to soothe a broken heart. He’d made the choice and he had to live with the consequences of his actions. Charles offered a solution—not one he liked, but a solution nonetheless. Derek knew he wouldn’t take Charles up on it. He couldn’t. But he could certainly try to bridge the gap between them. Someone had to make the first move. In the first driveway he came across, Derek turned his truck around. Heading back to Charles, back to where he wanted to be, was the hardest thing he’d ever done. Harder than facing the media and the critics after the Olympics and harder than watching his father die. He sped back to the farm, not wondering what Charles would think. Likely, he’d still be on the phone and Derek could slip back into the den just as quietly as he’d left. He turned into the driveway and slowed the truck as he approached the house. In the den window that looked over the riding arena, the curtains fluttered. Derek parked the truck and opened the door, his heart pounding. Gravel crunched beneath his boots as he stood and shut the door behind him. With long strides he approached the house, wishing his mouth wasn’t so dry. The front door opened. Charles stood there with one hand braced against the doorframe, ankles crossed, looking so sexy Derek wanted to forget all about his farm, Dio and his father’s debts, and simply fuck him until neither one of them could string a coherent sentence together. Instead, he stopped. “You’re back.” Charles smiled. Derek nodded. “Look, I shouldn’t have run out like that. Your offer came at me from left field. It’s too much, too soon. I haven’t seen you since the Olympics. I don’t think we should be moving in together.” He dragged his fingers through his hair. 24

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Charles shrugged. “It would solve your problem. I was just trying to help.” He frowned for a moment and opened the door wider. “Why don’t you come inside? We can talk.” Derek knew Charles’ “talks” had always ended up with the two of them in bed before, but perhaps now, so recently sated, they could discuss things like two adults. He stepped through the open door, trying hard to ignore the brush of Charles’ body against his. Inside, Charles led him to the kitchen. He filled a glass with ice and water. “Want a drink?” Derek shook his head. “I’m fine.” He wasn’t, and wondered if he needed the glass just to have something to hold in his hands. His heart hammered in his chest, his stomach flip-flopped crazily. He could do this. He could have an intelligent, adult conversation with Charles without sex—or their past—getting in the way. He sat down at the table. Charles took a seat opposite him. Reaching across the table, he curled his fingers over Derek’s hand. “I know I should have come to you after the Olympics. I’m sorry. I guess I was afraid you’d turn me away.” He paused to sip from the glass of water. “And I honestly don’t know what I would have done,” Derek admitted. He watched pain, quickly masked, cross Charles’ face, and he hated himself for causing even that little bit of distress. “I just think we should go slower. I trust you with my horse, that’s why I offered you Dio. You’d take care of him, not campaign him too hard. After what happened, I need space. We need space.” “You don’t think we’ve had space since we’ve been apart? I can’t buy Dio from you. I can’t take him from you. There has to be another way to deal with your father’s debts and not give him up.” Charles pulled his hand away and turned the glass in his fingers, staring into its depths as if it held all the answers. Derek shook his head. “Dio’s the only horse that would fetch a substantial amount of money, and that’s only a drop in the bucket. It would, however, clear the remaining 25

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mortgage on the condominium in California and work at whittling down some of the other debts.” “How much do you need?” Charles asked. “Two hundred and fifty thousand.” Derek figured he might as well level with Charles. Give him the full extent of the mess in which he had tried to involve himself. “When Dad moved to California we had over twenty-five percent equity in the farm. That was over a hundred thousand. Now, it’s mortgaged to one hundred and twentyfive percent of its appraised value. Dad’s investments are gone. My cash flow is tapped out and I can’t continue to run the place on credit.” Charles gave a low whistle. “Damn.” He turned his drink in his hands and thought for a moment. “I could give you a hundred grand for Dio. He’s not finished yet, but I have no doubt he’ll be a star once he is. Sounds like that would at least take care of California and gain you some leeway with the farm.” The offer shocked Derek. Known for being a hard bargainer when it came to buying horses, Charles’ offer for Dio meant a lot—a hell of a lot. Still, he couldn’t accept the money. Not when he knew his horse wasn’t worth half that. It wouldn’t be honest. “That’s very generous of you, but no.” “No?” Charles sipped his drink. “You hate me so much that you wouldn’t take my gift?” “I don’t hate you.” The instant Derek spoke the words he knew they were true. “But I won’t take charity. We struggled, Dad and I, until the gambling overtook him. But never—not once—did we take any charity. I know what Dio’s worth. Thirty, maybe forty thousand to the right buyer. Certainly not a hundred thousand. I’ll find a way to work things out.” “But entry fees, upkeep. This isn’t a cheap business.” Charles rose to his feet and carried his empty glass to the sink, dumping the ice in the drain before putting the glass in the dishwasher.

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“I know it isn’t. But I’ll figure something out.” Derek watched Charles, admiring the fit of his jeans over his ass, all the good memories rushing back to him. If he sold Dio, he wanted it to be fair and square, not more than the horse was worth out of misguided pity. He knew the decision he had to make. He rose to his feet and managed a sad smile. “Your offer means a lot to me, it really does, but I want to do this fair and square. I’ll try to get back here, but I’ll be pretty busy. You know where I live too.” What else could he say? Thanks for the mind-blowing sex, but I’m too fucking stubborn to take you up on your offer. “I’m sorry I couldn’t convince you,” Charles said. Derek wondered why his words sounded so much like a goodbye. “I’ll be seeing you, I hope.” Charles smiled. “I hope so, too.” Derek stood there for a long moment then headed for the door. He cursed his pride that wouldn’t let him accept Charles’ offer, and he cursed his father for putting him in this position.

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Chapter Two Derek relished every ride on Dio as if it were the last. Walking the gelding on a long rein, he leaned forward and rubbed the horse’s neck. He’d placed several online ads to sell Dio in the week since he’d been to see Charles, and the thought of giving up his prize horse made his stomach clench. A lump of sorrow filled his throat and he swallowed it away. He’d do what he had to do to save his farm. “I’m sorry, buddy,” Derek said as he picked up the reins and urged the horse into a brisk trot around the arena. As he rose and fell with the rhythmic beat of hooves against the ground, he thought about Charles’ offer. Perhaps he should have taken him up on it. Accepting a hundred thousand would ruin his pride, but what was a little pride if it meant keeping Dio? Derek expelled a breath and focused on the gymnastic of jumps before him. Maybe it didn’t matter. Maybe it did. He wouldn’t take the money anyway. No handout, no matter how generous, would fix their broken relationship. If he accepted the money, he’d have that hanging over his head too. Considering that their fledgling reunion had barely gotten off the ground, he hated to weigh it down with more baggage. Derek shook his head as he rose into two-point position and headed the horse toward the low jumps. Derek motioned to Ellie, his grounds person, to raise the jumps higher. She worked as an intern for college credit, otherwise he’d never have been able to afford her salary. Dressed in boots, stretch jeans and a sports bra, she moved through the arena fixing fences. Had his tastes run to the opposite sex, he might have found her beautiful. She raised the fences to four-and-a-half feet then stepped back against the rail to watch. After this, he’d have her ride a few of the younger horses.

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Tires crunched in the driveway. Derek slowed, watching as a sleek black Lincoln Navigator pulled into the farmyard. He slowed Dio to a walk, letting the horse stretch out his neck and snort. His heart hammered in his chest at the thought of facing Dio’s prospective buyer. Could he really go through with this? He dismounted as the SUV’s door opened and an older man stepped out. He wore jeans and paddock boots, his polo shirt open at the throat. A slight paunch spoke of too few hours in the saddle and his mirrored sunglasses rendered his expression unreadable. Derek led Dio over to the fence. “Hello. I’m Derek Whitten and this is Dio.” The man nodded, lips pursed into a tight line. “Matt Richardson.” He didn’t offer his hand to be shaken. He walked the few steps to the gate and let himself into the arena. Derek tried not to read anything into the man’s brusque manner. He knew of Matt from Flying High Stables, and although the man had a dubious reputation, his horses won. Any horse that went to Flying High always did well, and received exposure to go on to bigger and better things. Exposure Derek knew he couldn’t give. Matt strode up to the horse and closed his fingers around the reins. He bent over, quickly running his hand down the horse’s legs. He checked the animal’s teeth and stepped back to look at his bone structure. Derek’s stomach churned. He hated watching his prize horse get looked over like a piece of meat, a commodity to be bought and sold. “Would you like to see how he goes?” he asked, hoping to get his horse out of this man’s hands. “Yes.” Derek nodded and led Dio away a few paces. He mounted the horse and took off at a trot. They’d talked money only superficially, with Derek telling him he’d like fifty thousand. He knew there’d be a bargaining session, hoped he’d get twenty or thirty. Charles’ very generous offer remained at the forefront of his mind. How could he let his horse go to this man when he had a home with Charles?

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Bile rose in his throat. Derek forced it away, certain that by not accepting charity, no matter how well intended, he was doing the right thing. He led Dio in several circles then started him at the gymnastics. Dio jumped flawlessly. Just once Derek wished Dio would knock down a rail, stumble—anything to indicate he wasn’t the potential champion he was. “What do you think?” Derek asked after riding Dio for fifteen minutes over jumps and on the flat. “Easy stride. He tucks his knees. You’ve been showing him at Grand Prix, you said?” Behind the sunglasses, Derek knew the man calculated Dio’s worth. “Yes, though we competed at that level on a limited basis last year due to an injury. We placed in the ribbons in Las Vegas and Calgary, and he nearly made the Olympic trials in 2004.” Sure, those had been seventh- and tenth-place ribbons, but they were placings nonetheless, a solid accomplishment for a horse this young and coming off a severe injury. “I’ll tell you I like what I see. I’d like to ride him if you don’t mind.” Derek nodded. He dismounted, patting the horse’s shoulder. Be good, he mentally told the horse. Don’t do anything stupid, even if I want you to. He handed the reins over to Matt and watched the heavier man mount. He demanded from the horse, instead of coaxed. It wasn’t a partnership with Matt aboard, more like a dictatorship. It was evident from the way Dio flicked his ears, pinning them for a moment, and the tiny crow-hop he put into his canter that he wasn’t happy. Derek watched the two of them and wondered if, by protecting his horse, he’d lose his farm.

*****

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If the rumors were true, Derek was about to sell Dio to a monster. Charles grabbed his truck keys off a hook by the door and hurried outside. When he’d heard that Flying High wanted to purchase Dio, Charles thought Derek had lost his mind. Rumor at Flying High was that Matt Richardson thought he was getting a horse for a steal, taking advantage of Derek’s situation. While Charles doubted Derek would allow himself to be taken advantage of, he wasn’t positive. After all, at one time Derek would have refused to sell his worst enemy to Flying High, and now he thought about selling Dio to the place. He had to stop the sale. Derek might have refused his offer, but he had to do what was right for Dio. Even if Derek hated him, and Charles hoped like hell that wasn’t the case, he had to listen to reason for Dio’s sake. Dragging his fingers through his hair, Charles racked his brain for a solution. A loan. Charles hated the thought of taking anything from Derek, and the man obviously refused his help. But if Derek paid back the money it might make the deal more palatable for him. Charles balled his hands into fists as he neared his truck. Damn it, why did Derek have to be so stubborn? He chuckled suddenly. If he wasn’t, Charles supposed he wouldn’t love him as much. He slid behind the wheel, started the engine and headed down the lane leading to the highway. He took in the horses grazing in the green fields and two exercise riders working with young stock in the arena. Later today the vet would come and check on Jubi’s pregnancy. The idyllic setting lacked one thing—one person really. Derek. Charles drove down the highway struggling not to think about all the times he’d wanted to take this trip and hadn’t. He should have. He should have gone to Derek after the Olympics, explained, tried to offer answers and solace. But he didn’t. Derek

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wasn’t the only one who could be prideful, and Charles hoped he wasn’t paying the price now. The easy drive, so familiar yet new at the same time, gave him time to think. Derek wouldn’t settle for less than competitive terms on the loan, but inside, Charles cringed at the thought of charging him interest. He thought for a moment about offering Derek several young horses to train, but even that salary wouldn’t be enough to keep his farm afloat, and more horses meant more expenses. His thoughts chased ‘round and ‘round in his mind like yearlings in the pasture until he slowed next to the painted green sign announcing Derek’s farm. Charles turned into the driveway, noticing the large oak trees still flanking the road, the lush, green pastures where he and Derek had ridden. Fewer horses grazed there than in the past, and Charles wondered, in a close-knit community like the equestrian one, how he could have missed word of Derek’s financial problems. He pulled just close enough to the house—a modest two-story Colonial—to see a glimpse of the patio, with the same chairs and tables he and Derek had sat at to discuss horses and training. He parked in the driveway, his truck hidden by a copse of trees. Opening the truck door, he exited and hurried along the drive just in time to see Matt walking back to his Lincoln Navigator. The other man glanced back at the arena, though he seemed to look more at the young woman helping Derek with the jumps than the horse he intended to buy. “Heard you might be buying him.” Charles stopped in front of the truck. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea.” Matt barely acknowledged his presence. “And why would that be?” “Because you can’t afford him. I can,” Charles said. “Rumor has it you think you’re going to get this horse for a steal, put some riding on him and then turn around and sell him again. That’s not in your best interest. Especially after I tell Derek what I’ve learned—that one of your horses lost a first-place finish last week due to illegal drugs

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and you’re being investigated for animal cruelty charges. Would hate to have that kind of news get out.” Matt’s face turned stony. “I’ve seen all I need to see here.” He slid behind the wheel of the Lincoln, revved it up and drove away. Charles watched him drive away for a moment then returned to his own truck.

***** Two days later Charles returned, this time parking right by the house. Memories rushed past him as he strode toward the arena. He inhaled the scents of the outdoors, of horses and hay that always made him smile. The barn needed a new coat of paint. Not really noticeable, but small flakes were missing around the doors. A fence looked as if it had been mended with a cheap two-by-four. Nothing was too serious, but enough for Charles to notice the decline. He fought back sorrow over the thought that somehow, if he’d had less pride, he might have come to Derek after the Olympics and none of this would have happened. Charles shook his head. Bloody hell, he had to stop thinking in terms of “what-ifs” and “should haves”. The past was done, like a fence jumped in the last round, and couldn’t be undone. He had the future, and he knew he would do his damnedest not to nause it up. Gravel crunched beneath his boots. In a paddock, a lone gelding whinnied. Several horses answered, the cacophony of noise washing over him with all the welcome of a long-anticipated homecoming. Derek’s lucky horseshoe still hung on a post just inside the barn door. Light glinted off it as Charles passed and he paused to take a look at the metal, worn to a dull gleam by many touches. Always before a show, the last thing Derek would do before leaving was run his hand over the shoe that Charles had given him. For luck. Charles remembered the hot summer afternoon when he’d first given the gift, and a couple years later, when he bent his lover over a hay bale beneath that same

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horseshoe before they headed off for the Olympics. Again, for luck. And look how that had turned out. Charles stopped just shy of the arena, not quite ready to face his lover yet. He heard the steady blowing of a working horse, heard the thud of hoofbeats against the ground. The steady three-beat trot filled his blood, matching the rhythm of his heart. A moment of silence as the duo in the arena flew over a jump, the clunk of a hoof against a rail and then more steady beats of a rolling canter. With long strides, Charles walked to the arena. Derek sat astride a young horse, three, maybe four years old. The jumps in the arena looked deceptively simple. So intent on training the horse, Derek didn’t even look up when Charles leaned against the fence to watch. Several low jumps stood in a row along the edge of the arena closest to the barn. Shadows fell across them, making a partial tunnel of darkness through which the horse needed to canter. For most horses it wasn’t a problem, but Charles sensed the young horse’s reluctance. In the center of the arena sat a single three-foot jump, three poles suspended between upright posts. Along the far edge, smaller jumps—each made of rails forming an X—made for intriguing schooling possibilities. From the sweat dampening Derek’s shirt and the damp strands of hair plastered to his neck, it appeared he’d set up the arena all by himself. Derek sat down on the horse’s back, slowing the youngster to a trot as they wound their way around the jumps. Sweat dampened the horse’s flanks and on a longer rein, it stretched its neck and snorted. It had obviously been a long training session, but from the positive determination on Derek’s face, a good one. Charles wondered if this might be Dio’s replacement, though he had a few years to go before he made Grand Prix level. Charles’ cock hardened as he watched Derek. His breeches clung to thighs that must be aching after long hours in the saddle, and Charles longed to lay Derek on a soft down comforter and massage the tension away. Derek rose into two-point position,

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easing his weight off the young horse’s back, and Charles couldn’t help but admire his rock-hard ass. His mouth watered. He cupped a hand over his fly, willing his body to behave. He came here to talk to Derek, not get a quick lay. But oh, if Derek were willing—the barn held memories and Charles wouldn’t be averse to making some more. His fingers itched to curve around Derek’s hips and hold his ass against his cock. The smell of Derek, all horses and sweat, would fill his nose as Charles licked a trail to his ear to nibble on it, then tease the sensitive spot behind with his tongue. Charles’ breathing hitched. He bit back a moan. Why torture himself like this? Think of anything—like Derek almost selling Dio to Flying High Stables—to stop the fierce pounding in his cock. The smack of a riding crop pulled Charles away from his thoughts. In the arena, the young colt shied at the shadows over the jumps. Although Derek wasn’t in any danger, Charles held his breath until Derek got the horse under control and safely over a couple jumps. Derek needed a grounds person. Not just for setting up and moving the jumps, though that helped with training. But what if something happened? Charles tried not to think about Derek injured, hurt, lying in the arena. The colt refused a jump. Planting its front feet, it stared at the obstacle as if it might bite him. Snorting, showing the whites of its eyes, the horse tried to dance away. Derek sat firm, using subtle cues to guide the horse in the right direction. He circled, cueing the horse into a rolling canter and sending him firmly at the jump. Although the young horse nearly broke into a gallop in its haste to clear the obstacle, he jumped it and Charles released a sigh of relief. The Englishman nearly laughed aloud at his foolishness. If he shared his farm with Derek he’d have to watch his lover exercising young horses on a regular basis. If he worried every time Derek rode an animal with a little fight in it, well…Charles wondered if he’d survive. Relaxing, he watched Derek circle the horse around the arena.

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Suddenly the horse grew rank. Pulling at the bit, lather flecking from its lips, the horse fought every command Derek gave. It crow-hopped before charging toward the fence. Charles watched, horrified, as the horse plowed over the jump in the center of the arena and leapt into a series of bucks. Derek clung to the horse. Legs wrapped around its barrel, rear firmly in the saddle, he struggled to bring the horse under control. The beast snorted. It planted its forefeet, stopping immediately. With a duck of its head and a mighty buck, it sent Derek flying over its neck and into the dirt. He hit the ground with a dull, sickening thud. Charles bolted into the arena. The sight of Derek lying unmoving twisted his guts. If he hadn’t been here, Derek might have lain unnoticed for who knows how long. The thought sent a lump of fear into his throat. Kneeling by the supine man, Charles felt for a pulse. The beat and the steady rise and fall of his chest gave Charles his breath back. Hopefully he wasn’t injured, just knocked out. He grabbed the reins of the horse, quickly divesting the creature of saddle and bridle before shutting it into an empty paddock by the arena. It would be all right there until Derek woke. Returning to his former lover, Charles knelt again and checked him for injuries. Finding none, he scooped the man up in his arms. Derek lay like a dead weight. Long strides took Charles across the arena toward the house. Still, Derek didn’t stir. Not even a moan passed his lips, only the steady breath, warm against Charles’ neck. Arms shaking from the strain, Charles hurried into the house, somehow managing to get the door open before placing Derek on the couch. His eyelashes fanned against his cheeks, highlighting the dark shadows there. “Please wake up,” Charles said, as he bent over Derek and removed the riding helmet. He unbuttoned the collar of Derek’s polo shirt and then unfastened his belt, trying to give Derek as much room to breathe as possible. “Please wake up!” Derek moaned. He didn’t wake, but Charles took the sound to be a good sign. Sitting next to Derek, he started to reach for the phone to dial 911. Derek moaned again. 36

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“It’s okay.” Charles threaded his fingers with Derek’s. “You fell from a horse. Please wake up. I don’t know what I’d do if you didn’t.” The memory of other accidents, the riders not so lucky, flashed through his mind. How many funerals, how many hospital beds had he visited? Far too many, and he didn’t want Derek to be another one of them. Looking down at his ex-lover evoked such tender and warm feelings, Charles longed to wrap him in a blanket and protect him forever. How could he have been such a fool as to let Derek go after the Olympics? No one else came close. Ever. Brushing aside a lock of hair from Derek’s forehead, he pressed his lips to it, as if a simple kiss could rouse his friend. “Please, Derek. I made a mistake letting you go. I should have grabbed a hold and held you tight. Come back to me. It was only a fall from a young horse.” He rose to his feet, ready to dial 911. Derek’s eyelids fluttered. “Derek?” Grabbing his friend’s hand, Charles pressed it to his chest. “Are you awake?” “Charles?” The word emerged as a croak. “Yes. I’m here.” Derek struggled to sit. “What happened? Oh damn, I got dumped, didn’t I?” He groaned. Charles placed his hand in the middle of Derek’s chest, keeping him from moving too quickly. “Are you hurt? You took a hell of a fall.” Derek closed his eyes. “My knee. Oh fuck, if I’ve messed it up again…” “Your knee?” Charles crouched next to Derek as he stretched out on the couch. Gingerly, he touched his right thigh and knee, trying to keep a clinical attitude about having his fingers on his leg. Derek hissed with pain. “When did you hurt it?”

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“About a year after the Olympics. Took a horrible spill when Dio refused a jump at a show.” Derek started to bend it and then stopped with a groan. “I’m supposed to ride Dio this weekend. If I have to scratch him…” “I’ll do it,” Charles offered. “Aren’t you riding your own horses?” Gingerly, Derek eased into a seated position. “I am, but my Grand Prix horse is a young one. I doubt I’ll final. And riders show multiple horses all the time. Let me do this for you, Derek. Let me help you out.” He hadn’t realized until he made the offer how much he needed to do that. Besides, if he rode Dio it would be an excellent opportunity to talk some sense into Derek, and he’d get to try out the horse for himself. “I really appreciate it.” Derek smiled. “What would I have done if you weren’t here?” Just the sight of the smile sent a rush of blood to Charles’ cock. His body clenched, remembering what it was like to have Derek’s hot, male fist wrapped around his cock, or to be buried inside his body. Biting back a groan, he struggled to remember Derek had just fallen off a horse. He didn’t need sex, no matter what Charles’ body wanted. Derek closed his fingers around Charles’ arm. Just a simple touch, one Charles had experienced many times before. Yet here, in the confines of Derek’s living room, it felt deeper, more intimate somehow. He wanted to demand to know where they were, what happened to them and when they could pick up where they’d left off. With Derek looking at him like that, as if he were a really expensive saddle, Charles couldn’t breathe. “Derek?” “I just remembered what I missed about you,” Derek replied in a low, husky voice. “What?” Charles’ mouth went dry. He knew what he missed, too. The companionship and the fucking. Dear god, he missed the fucking. His cock pounded, demanded he take Derek right here in the living room. Could he never be near him and not want him?

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“I miss coming in after exercising horses and fucking until we couldn’t walk.” Derek shifted on the couch, wincing a bit as he moved his foot to rest on the floor. Bending forward, he cupped Charles’ cheek with a work-roughened palm. “I’m glad you were here.” Derek kissed him. Charles closed his eyes, fighting against the need to deepen the kiss. Accept Derek’s thanks with gentle fingers against his cheek, that’s what Charles knew he needed to do. Derek’s lips moved across his own, warm, giving, so gentle and soft that it was like their very first kiss in a paddock all those years ago. Time fell away. Just the two of them, linked by their common passion, common desire. Charles curled his fingers around Derek’s biceps, intent on halting the kiss. He didn’t want to, not in a million years did he want to stop the delightful touch of mouth against mouth. But he had to. Derek had just fallen, been knocked out. He needed rest, not mind-numbing sex. Charles pulled back. “Derek,” he breathed, caressing Derek’s hairline. Derek winced as Charles’ fingers found a knot forming on the side of his head. “You’re hurt. Why don’t you lie back? I’ll get you some aspirin. When you’re better we can pick up where we left off.” He released Derek’s arm and rose to his feet. Derek sighed and nodded. “I’ll hold you to that promise.” He settled himself on the couch. “Some aspirin would be nice.” “I’ll be right back.” Charles stepped back and hurried into the bathroom. His cock ached and not even the reminder of Derek’s condition eased the throbbing. He’d come through on his promise, but first he had a horse to show. At last Derek had accepted his help. It was a good, solid start toward getting their relationship back on track. Charles intended to press his advantage for all it was worth.

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Chapter Three Derek’s knee pounded. He sat on the hotel room bed, his right leg propped on a pillow, and stared at the tray sitting on the table across the room. The succulent aromas of steak, potatoes and steamed vegetables filled the air. Two imported beers sat on the edge of the tray. From the bathroom he heard the sounds of Charles in the shower. He struggled against feeling useless. After all, he’d hurt his knee and could do little more than pull the rolling tack trunks. Charles had done all the work of loading and unloading the truck and horse trailer, though he’d helped out where he could. In addition to Dio, Charles brought three young prospects to show, mostly for the mileage. With Jubi retired to broodmare, he didn’t have a competitive higher-level horse. Derek reached for the bottle of water sitting on the nightstand and sipped. It’d be too easy to fall back into a routine with Charles. Expelling a sigh, Derek rubbed his temples. Too much had happened since Athens, not the least of which was his father’s gambling debts and death. As much as he longed to rebuild his relationship with Charles, it had to be on equal footing. The shower stopped. Derek’s mouth went dry imagining Charles stepping from the shower, water droplets clinging to every inch of his bare skin. Just thinking about Charles’ clean cock, ready for sucking, had Derek hard in his jeans. For this weekend, maybe he could put aside worries about the farm and money and focus on the horses, the show and Charles. A few days away from his problems, that’s all he wanted. Well, that and to be fucked thoroughly by Charles. The bathroom door opened and Charles emerged wearing only a white towel. He dropped it when he reached his suitcase, giving Derek a view of his taut ass. If only he didn’t have to worry about his damned knee. He’d walk up behind Charles, wrap his fingers around the man’s cock and dinner would get cold. He watched appreciatively as

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Charles pulled on a pair of jeans—leaving the top button undone—then turned toward the desk. “You haven’t eaten yet?” “I was waiting for you.” Derek rose to his feet and hobbled over to the table. He sat down and let Charles set his plate in front of him. The two men ate their meals in silence. Only when the dishes were empty, piled on the tray and set outside the door did Derek return to the bed, stretching out his leg as before. “What do you think about tomorrow? Any words of wisdom?” Charles settled himself on the bed beside Derek. He started to stretch out his arm to rest it around Derek’s shoulders, but instead rested his hand on the comforter between them. Derek shook his head. “No words of wisdom, really. You know Dio. He can get strong, especially in the later rounds, but I trust you can handle him.” Absently, he rubbed his knee. “I wish I were riding him, but since I can’t, you’d be my next pick,” he grinned. “Your knee hurting you?” Charles asked, leaning forward. He gently cupped Derek’s knee through the denim, his touch burning like a brand. Heat shot up Derek’s leg to his cock. Gently, Charles massaged the knee, careful not to put too much pressure on the actual joint. Long, slender fingers worked their magic as Derek’s muscles relaxed. He groaned and leaned against the wall. “That feel good?” Charles asked. He shifted position on the bed, resting one foot on the floor, so he could focus more intently on Derek’s knee. “Oh yeah,” Derek replied. He reached for Charles, his fingers splaying on his bare back. With his other hand he unbuttoned his own jeans, making some more room. “You know, I was going to hold you to a promise.” Charles moved so his face hovered mere inches above Derek’s crotch. “You were.” Charles grinned at him, his arousal darkening his eyes. He slid from the bed just for a moment, returning and tossing a handful of condoms and a small bottle of lube on the nightstand. “Then again, what if I don’t want to be held?” Trailing his fingers down 41

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Derek’s bare arms, he twined their fingers together and lifted Derek’s arms over his head. Derek shivered. Even with his bum knee, it was still nice to sit on the bed and enjoy the arousal pounding through his veins. Charles straddled him, careful to keep his weight off his leg. Holding their hands against the wall, he leaned forward and kissed him. The first brush of their lips made his cock jerk behind the fly of his jeans. No soft kiss, not like the one Derek had visited upon his lips back at the house. This one demanded, making no pretence about the outcome. Derek closed his eyes, surrendering his mouth to Charles’ plundering. Lips parted, he invited his lover in, and when Charles slid his tongue past Derek’s lips he moaned. The rasp of tongue against tongue, the smell of male arousal in the air… Derek lost himself to the sensations. He curled his fingers into Charles’, itching to reach out and touch the banquet of smooth, tanned skin before him. Charles sucked on his tongue. Damn, but the man had a talented mouth. He’d unwrapped a chocolate with his tongue once, a feat that had ended with both of them sated and smeared with sticky chocolate. Derek focused on the sensations Charles aroused in him, determined to drown himself in the need and not think about the past. No future either, only this moment, with Charles’ thighs brushing against his own, his lover’s tongue stroking the recesses of his mouth and the heavy ache of arousal in his balls. “Must touch you,” Derek breathed as he pulled away to draw in some muchneeded air. Then Charles’ lips were back, the hard, deep kiss telling Derek exactly who was in charge. Charles’ fingers slipped from his, trailed over his shoulders, down his sides to tug the hem of his shirt from his jeans and pull it over Derek’s head. They parted only long enough for the shirt to pass and then Charles sucked on his lower lip. Released from his confinement, Derek slid his fingers along Charles’ ribs, up over the sculpted muscles of his back. One hand tunneled into the hair at the nape of

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Charles’ neck, feeling the silky strands. The other one explored, charting territory untouched for so long. Derek focused on the sensations, the gentle suckling of his lower lip, the full, heavy feeling in his balls, even the throb of his knee. Gentle sighs and low moans filled the air as Charles directed his lips down, pausing to nip Derek’s neck, then laving the hollow of his collarbone. His nipples standing at attention drew long licks and sucks that had Derek arching his hips and groaning with need. Each lick and nibble went straight to Derek’s cock, which ached for Charles’ touch. He moved too slowly, fingers tracing muscle and sinew, pausing to explore each ridge of his abdomen, until finally Charles lowered Derek’s zipper. His cock parted the fabric of his boxers just enough to expose the head. A tiny drop of fluid formed on the head and the gentle sweep of Charles’ fingers smoothed it into the skin. Charles didn’t stop with his gentle stroking through the boxers. His kisses descended, his lips following the path his fingers had taken across Derek’s abs. His tongue slid into Derek’s navel, making him gasp, and then his lips ventured lower, following the trail of brown hair where it disappeared beneath the waistband of light blue boxers. Derek lifted his hips so Charles could tug down his boxers and pants. His cock free, it reached for his stomach, pressing against his skin hot and hard, veins wrapped around the shaft, and Derek watched as Charles stroked it with his fingers. The gentle touches nearly undid him. He wanted more, wanted to feel the pull of Charles’ lips on him, wanted to watch his lover’s cheeks hollow as he sucked him hard. Derek tamped down his arousal, didn’t want to spill in Charles’ hand, not when there were so many more pleasurable ways of coming. Charles fished a condom off the nightstand. Foil tore and skilled hands rolled latex over Derek’s dick. The hot suction of Charles’ mouth followed. “God, yes,” Derek hissed. He grabbed the back of Charles’ head, holding his lover’s lips to his shaft. Fingers cupped his balls then slid to the sensitive skin behind them, and it was all Derek could do to not come right there. He fisted his other hand in the

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comforter, wishing he could touch Charles’ cock, but he couldn’t reach more than his head and shoulders. Derek forced his eyes open. He watched Charles, the taut look of concentration on his face, the way his cheeks hollowed. It was, in Derek’s opinion, the most erotic thing he’d ever seen. Charles’ mouth moved up and down his shaft. Then he nestled his lips around the base, the tight muscles of his throat closing around the head, and Derek growled. Oh god, he was going to come. His balls drew tight against his body, the alltoo familiar tingling starting along his spine. Charles must have sensed it for he backed off, releasing Derek’s cock from his mouth with a small pop. He rolled away and shed his jeans. Once again he straddled Derek, this time treating him to a view of his luscious ass. Derek reached for the bottle of lube. He poured a generous amount in his palm and drizzled the liquid along Charles’ cleft before handing the bottle to his lover. Soon a slick hand closed around his turgid shaft. Reaching around, Derek closed his hand around Charles’ cock. His lover bucked his hips. With his other hand, Derek smeared the slick liquid around, making sure to liberally coat his thumb and Charles’ anus. Gently, his thumb slipped in, just enough to press against the ring of muscles. Charles groaned. Derek stroked Charles’ cock with a strong rhythm, pushing his thumb in a little deeper on each stroke. Oh yeah, this was what he wanted, the mutual pleasure that they could give each other. Slick hands stroked his cock, while Derek mirrored the attentions. And then his thumb slipped in all the way. Charles released Derek’s cock. “I can’t wait,” he said, turning around after Derek withdrew his thumb. “I need you to fuck me.” He shifted position slightly so Derek’s cock was poised against his anus, Charles’ own cock jutting toward Derek’s mouth. Derek grabbed Charles’ hips and leaned forward. He winced as his knee protested the shift in position then quickly forgot about the pain when Charles lowered himself.

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Derek groaned as the head of his penis disappeared inside his lover. He was slick from saliva and lube, and his shaft easily penetrated Charles’ ass. “That feels so good,” Charles groaned, and then Derek closed his lips around his bare cock. The first frantic strokes slowed, becoming leisurely and deep, a gentle fucking that spoke of their relationship. Derek leaned back and focused on the slide of his cock deep into Charles’ ass. Sometimes rough and fast, sometimes slow and sweet, that’s what their relationship had been like and could be again. A moan rose deep in his chest. “So good. So fucking good,” he panted. Derek circled Charles’ cock with his fingers. He stroked in time to his steady thrusts, fondling his balls then stroking the sensitive skin behind. His entire being focused on Charles, from the lines of pleasure etched into his face to the lines of his muscled body. Derek struggled to keep his release inside, wanting Charles to come before he did. Charles had given him so much, offered so much, and Derek knew mere sex wouldn’t begin to repay the debt. The slow steady screw drove him to the point of madness. With one hand, he gripped Charles’ hips and thrust hard and deep. Leaning against the headboard, he used it for leverage as he thrust into his lover’s body. Over and over again. Harder and faster, like a runaway horse, intent on one goal—getting home. Derek’s hand stroked faster on Charles’ cock. His fingers toyed with the sensitive spot just behind the head, stroking the long vein that ran along the underside. His digits kept pace with the thrust of his cock until Charles’ breath came in needy pants. Just a little bit more, and then—Charles groaned, his warm, sticky seed coating Derek’s hand. It made each stroke slicker, quicker, and suddenly Charles’ hand gripped his wrist. “Too much,” he panted. “Fuck me.” Derek did as his friend bade. His attention narrowed down to the tight grip Charles’ body had on his cock. Deeper…he wanted to stroke until they both exploded

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from the pleasure. They had the whole night together, yet nothing mattered except this single moment. Then his cock erupted, and he thought of nothing but being tight inside his lover’s body. His husky shout of completion filled the room and his body stiffened. Sweat covered his body and in the back of his mind he knew his knee would hurt like hell in the morning. Derek leaned weakly against the headboard and lightly stroked Charles’ thigh. The other man shifted, quickly disposing of Derek’s condom in the bedside trash can before lying beside him. Feeling his breath return, Derek turned to him and ran his fingers over Charles’ torso. “I think it’s your turn now,” Derek said with a sly grin. He ignored the pain in his knee as he slid down to recline next to Charles, finally able to touch and explore exactly the way he wanted. Kissing and nibbling, Derek bit Charles on the shoulder then soothed the mark with his tongue. He drew Charles’ nipple into his mouth, sucking one while he caressed the other with his fingers. Charles spread his legs and rubbed his rapidly hardening cock against Derek’s stomach. Derek smiled at the sign of impatience. He laved each ridge of Charles’ abdomen, then finally nestled his head in his lap. Slowly, deliberately, he made eye contact as he drew Charles’ unsheathed cock deep into his mouth. This was what he loved, a chance to pleasure his partner. Fingers fisted in his hair as he licked the length of Charles’ cock. He felt it slide down his throat and hummed, knowing Charles loved the vibration. Every sigh, every groan encouraged Derek to continue. He sucked harder, his cheeks hollowing. He slid his fingers over the sweat on Charles’ body, inching them between his ass and the bed. With his other hand he played with Charles’ balls, using both hands to strum him higher and higher. Charles pulled on his hair. Derek didn’t mind, the pain mingling with the pleasure of giving Charles a blowjob until his cock hardened against the mattress again. “Derek!”

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Charles groaned his name. In his hands, Derek felt Charles’ balls draw tight against his body. He stiffened and with a hoarse shout, came. Warm seed rushed from his cock. Derek closed his eyes, sucking his lover dry and then swallowing with a smile. With a final lick, he curled up beside Charles’ hip, one arm flung across his lover’s body and a contented smile on his face. His cock throbbed anew. “Almost makes me glad I hurt my knee,” Derek whispered against his partner’s flesh. “Oh?” Charles asked. He managed to get them both beneath the comforter and between the crisp, clean sheets. “Yeah, because then I wouldn’t be here with you.” He sighed and snuggled close to Charles, and soon drifted into sleep. Charles looked down at his sleeping partner. Derek had been so warm, so giving, that it seemed as if time had turned back. His words warmed Charles, and he easily pictured them both in separate hotel rooms, alone, each too busy with the show and their horses to try to rekindle the relationship. Memories of horse shows past where they’d done exactly that, not even talking to one another, filled his mind. This arrangement was so much nicer. He sighed and pulled Derek closer to his body, not wanting to let go for a moment.

***** With Charles already at the show grounds, Derek had an hour to himself before he had to join him. Charles had risen early, slipped from bed with a kiss and told Derek to sleep in while he exercised the horses. Derek wished he had gotten up and gone with him, but no sooner had Charles left when his cell phone vibrated. His father’s bill collectors. Even here after a night of damn good sex and with horses ready to show, they still called. Of course, they knew nothing about his schedule.

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They were simply doing their jobs. Still, for one day, he wished they’d leave him alone. He let the call go to voice mail. He hadn’t told Charles about them, didn’t want to explain the nearly nonstop ringing of his phone. How long would it be before they pressed the foreclosure issue? As he listened to the message before turning off his phone, he hoped Dio lived up to his potential. Not only would a win increase his sale value, but the prize check would help to restore the farm to solvency. As much as last night meant to him, Derek refused to go any deeper into a relationship with Charles with this financial anchor weighing him down. Somehow, someway, he’d come through without taking charity and then, maybe, if Charles was still around, they could think about their relationship. Derek hoped—no, prayed—that Charles would stick around. He gulped a couple aspirin and water, hoping it would dull the ache in his knee. Tucking his wallet into the back pocket of his jeans and grabbing the access card that would allow him into the stabling area, he paused long enough to consult the show shuttle, thinking about watching Charles and Dio hopefully bring home a trophy. The fact that their positions from the Olympics were reversed wasn’t lost on him. He smiled and wondered if Charles had been as nervous as he was right now. He doubted it. Charles had had far less riding on the Olympic show. A gold medal might be nice, but right now, Derek would gladly give back his silver medal if it meant saving his farm. He waited in the lobby for the shuttle to arrive and couldn’t help but say a short prayer to whomever listened that Dio and Charles rode into first place.

***** By the end of the second round, Derek swore his nerves were shot. Charles was one of five riders with clear rounds under the allotted time, guaranteeing Dio and him fifth place or better. Derek tried not to think about the prize money and wished the butterflies in his stomach would calm as the riders walked the jump-off course. He watched as Charles focused on the course, shoving everything else aside. His knee

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throbbed from the long, grueling day, and it’d be an even longer night as they had decided to drive straight home after the show—win or lose. Derek knew he had to have faith in Charles. Dio could jump the course like a champ. From his vantage point in the stands, he knew there was nothing there that Dio couldn’t handle. They’d practiced it all at home. Oxers, a liverpool, verticals, combinations—Dio possessed the athleticism and talent to take them all with speed. Mentally, he checked off their chances. Charles handled stress like a pro. In fact, the more on the line, the better Charles performed. He demanded excellence from his horses and they gave a hundred and ten percent. Derek hated not being in charge of his destiny. But as long as Charles remembered the last-minute instructions, things would be all right. The only variable was the horse himself. The other competitors didn’t matter, not when the stakes were this high. All five pairs competed against their ability to hold things together when the pressure got tight. Split-second decisions kept rails in their brackets or knocked them to the ground. The arena cleared. Derek exhaled, his palms sweating. He clenched his hands, trying to rid his body of excess tension. In little more than four minutes his farm’s fate would be sealed. A first- or second-place prize check guaranteed at least a five-figure amount. Anything else would only be a few thousand and Derek knew he might as well pack it up and find a new place for him and his horses to live—if there was anything left over after the assets were dispersed. The first rider entered the arena. He moved cleanly through the jumps, a bit slow to Derek’s trained eye, and when the round finished forty-five seconds later, he left the rails up but extra seconds cost him time faults. He shook his head as he exited the arena. The second rider finished his round quickly, riding too fast and taking too many chances that didn’t pay. With three rails down, it seemed likely he’d take the fifth-place spot. The third rider performed flawlessly. As he examined the perfect timing between horse and rider, Derek knew he was watching the rider to beat. Passing the timer’s eye 49

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a full second faster than anyone else, the duo had laid down the best time so far. The rider left the arena to a standing ovation. In his heart, Derek prayed for second place. At this point he’d accept third, though he didn’t know how he’d make it work financially. There were two more riders to go, including Charles and Dio. Derek wouldn’t count out his partner or his horse. But the next rider rode just as well, not knocking down any rails. With tight turns and jumps just high enough to clear the obstacles, horse and rider exhibited professionalism. Newcomers since the Olympics, the pair was sweeping the show jumping world by storm, and watching them compete, Derek could see why. They left the arena a few hundredths of a second over the time set by the previous rider and moved into second place. Derek’s heart fell. He trusted Dio, knew his horse could jump everything in the arena, though he wondered if the animal could best the fourth rider’s time. Certainly Charles had seen both riders—a man and a woman, respectively—complete the course. He knew what was required to get it done and go for first place. Derek leaned forward as Charles’ and Dio’s names came over the loudspeaker. A hush settled over the crowd. A circle around the arena and then they passed through the eye of the timer. Precious hundredths of a second began to tick past. The first jump, a tight vertical, remained standing when Dio cleared it, landing on the left lead to take the turn into a two-part oxer. Into the first combination, a bit tight getting out, but the jumps were still up. Derek dared not look at the time, didn’t want to know whether they were ahead or behind. Dio tossed his head into the air between a wide oxer and the liverpool. Derek clenched his hand into a fist and willed Dio to settle. As if through some telepathic bond between horse and rider, the beast did, and made it in and out of a triple safely. Three jumps remained standing before them. In his mind, Derek rode along with Charles. He knew each beat of Dio’s hooves against the ground, felt the thrust of power as Dio propelled himself and his rider over

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the jump. How many times had he been in this position? Too many to count. Dio made the high plank coming off the tight turn look easy, and horse and rider turned for home. One stride, two stride, three strides, and with each one Derek watched Dio get stronger and stronger. He flattened out, charging for home and the finish line he knew lay beyond. “Please, Charles,” Derek whispered, heedless of who overheard. “Keep him in line. Please.” Dio launched himself at the last fence, a simple upright, three poles, the jump painted to advertise the national bank sponsoring the show. Clunk. Hind hooves hit the top rail. Derek watched, horrified, as the rail swung in its cups, back and forth, back and forth. It hovered there for a moment, as if it might remain in place. Then it toppled to the ground, landing with a hollow thunk.

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Chapter Four The clatter of the rail echoed in the silent arena. Groans and scattered pity applause filled the air as Charles and Dio cleared the last jump and passed the timer’s eye. The clock stopped with no time penalties. It would have been nice, his time a hundredth of a second faster than the second-place rider, except for that fallen rail. Four faults. Not the worst in the group, but also not the best. Charles turned Dio and stared at the painted wooden pole on the ground. Cameras flashed from the press area. With a sad shake of his head, he exited the arena. Derek didn’t meet him for the cool-down or for a postpartum analysis of the ride. Not that Charles expected it, for he had always trusted Derek’s judgment when Derek rode his horses. He suspected Derek lent him the same courtesy. Leaning forward, Charles patted Dio’s neck. The horse had done the best he could. Sure, Dio could have listened a little better, gotten less headstrong, yet Charles knew he had been warned. Both of them had done the best they could. Today, it hadn’t been enough. He walked Dio until the gelding stopped blowing, returned to the arena for the awards ceremony and tried not to feel too guilty when Derek didn’t show. A somber ride took him back to the barn, where he dismounted and patted Dio’s shoulder. The gelding nosed around for treats and, upon finding none, snorted and stretched out his neck. Charles removed Dio’s saddle and bridle, hanging the sweaty saddle pad over the open stall door to air-dry. Briskly, he unwound support wraps from around the gelding’s legs then started brushing the horse. In his mind, he replayed the jump over and over again. What had gone wrong? Dio’s attitude held up throughout the entire ride, and even though he’d started to get headstrong it was no more than any of his own horses had ever done. A bit flat over the next-to-last jump, sure, and that’s what had cost them the rail. Reviewing his

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performance in his mind, Charles feared it was something he had done and didn’t know how to correct. Footsteps sounded in the barn aisle. Charles peered over Dio’s back, brush halted in mid-stroke. Derek strode toward him, his expression unreadable. Looking at his lover, Charles hated to even speculate on what might be going through his mind. The thirdplace check would help his financial situation, though not as much as a win would have. Had he been in Derek’s shoes, he knew what he would think about his performance today. It had been a good showing for the horse, just a bit of bad luck at the last fence. Charles suspected Derek felt stronger about it, what with so much more at stake. “Sorry I couldn’t make it here sooner,” he said, stopping on the other side of Dio and patting the gelding’s shoulder. “It was a crush of people trying to get back here.” He hid his face behind Dio’s neck, not looking at Charles. “That’s okay.” Charles handed a stiff-bristled brush across the horse’s back to Derek. “Want to finish getting this guy settled in before we load the trailer and take off?” Derek paused. “We were going to head back tonight, right?” Charles asked. The brush stilled against Dio’s side. The gelding turned his head as if wondering the same question. “Yeah.” Derek’s gruff, monosyllabic reply spoke volumes. He reached for Dio’s shipping wraps and started fastening them around the horse’s legs. Charles didn’t press for more. He let Derek finish preparing Dio for travel while he prepared his own horses, then made sure the tack trunks were packed. In the back of his mind, he wondered if his poor performance caused Derek’s silence or if Derek thought of other things. He flashed back to Athens, to being on the other side of the fence and watching Jubi drop a rail. All the emotions he’d felt—anger, sorrow, blame, guilt. Charles knew Derek must be feeling the same. He walked silently beside Derek as

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they rolled the trunks outside, tossed blanket bags over their shoulders and finished packing the trailer. They returned to the barn, noticing several horses in their stalls, likely staying the night. Charles wondered if Derek saw in them richer owners, stables with more disposable income. He didn’t ask, didn’t want to broach the subject. While he longed to have one more night in a hotel room with Derek, Charles knew the horses would be happier in their own stables. Money played no role in his decision to head home. Charles loaded his horses into the trailer before allowing Derek to lead Dio, standing back to follow a few paces behind. He released a heavy sigh, watching as Derek loaded Dio with a gentle hand and a pat to the horse’s shoulder. He closed the door and latched the trailer. “We’re ready to go,” he said. “Your knee is probably hurting you. I’ll drive.” Charles wanted to say more, but one look at the pain in Derek’s eyes, coupled with the knowledge that he’d soon have to sell his prize horse, silenced him. “Thanks.” Derek opened the passenger door and stepped up into the truck, settling himself into the seat before fastening the seat belt. Moments later, Charles sat behind the wheel. The truck started with a roar and they pulled out of the parking lot. For long miles, neither man spoke. Not even muted chatter from a radio station filled the cab. Charles couldn’t take it anymore. “I’m sorry. I should have kept Dio on the bit better, but we were going so well. It was completely my fault.” “No it wasn’t.” The three words, spoken in a flat, monotone voice, did little to ease Charles’ guilt. “These things just happen.” “Still, it isn’t right. Dio tried his hardest. He deserved first place,” Charles said, wishing he could bolster Derek’s spirits. “He dropped a rail, Charles. These things happen. Damn, I know too well how easily fortunes change in the show ring. And so do you. Don’t blame yourself.” Derek

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dragged his fingers through his hair and focused on the lackluster scenery outside the truck window. A few miles later they pulled onto the interstate. Checking the mirror behind him, Charles made sure the trailer rode smoothly. He started to reach across the seat to rest his hand on Derek’s knee but realized that, though he sat mere inches from him, Derek was miles away mentally. He put his hand back on the wheel and for long moments they rode in silence. “I don’t know what I’m going to do,” Derek finally said, his voice almost too soft to hear. “About the farm?” Charles waited, hoping he would discuss the situation, maybe even supply an opening so he could propose the loan he’d been meaning to suggest. After Derek’s fall from the young horse, they never did get around to discussing it. “Yeah.” He exhaled and glanced into the side mirror. Charles knew his thoughts rode with the horse in the trailer. “I don’t want to sell Dio.” “Then don’t.” Derek faced him. Anguish covered his face. “It’s not that easy, Charles.” He closed his eyes and fisted his hands against his thighs. “That third-place check won’t do anything to keep us afloat or keep the bank from foreclosing on the farm. Shit. I might as well keep it for a down payment on a new place, a smaller place, instead of tossing it away.” “I can help.” Now it was Derek’s turn to reach over and place a hand on Charles’ thigh. “No. I won’t take gifts. And even if I had the funds to haul the farm out of foreclosure, it’d be a monthly battle to keep it afloat without more staff, more horses. Once I had Dio solidly at Grand Prix, then I could have used him to get other horses, other animals to train, maybe even expand my staff. I had so many dreams for that place.”

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Dreams Charles had shared. Charles knew he couldn’t pull over and take Derek into his arms, but that was exactly what he wanted to do. They’d spent so many lazy summer days riding the fields and discussing the future. Of course, they’d wanted to merge the two farms, and Charles knew what would happen if he revived that old desire. No, all he could do was be here for Derek, and offer what he could. “We could talk about a loan. But it sounds like your mind is made up.” Derek managed a wan smile. “I appreciate it. I really do. I’ve got to figure this one out for myself. I just wished it wasn’t so damned difficult.” He lapsed into silence. Charles hoped things would work out…and hoped Derek would allow him to stay by his side.

Derek wished he had words to tell Charles how comforting his presence was. Instead, he tried to think a way out of his money problems. No, he didn’t blame Charles for the fallen rail. In fact, he suspected that Charles blamed himself more than he did. Derek knew Dio’s limitations, had tried to work past them. If the blame rested anywhere, it rested with Derek. He tried not to get down on himself, tried not to see Dio’s loss as another fuck-up in a string of very big fuck-ups. First his lack of communication with his father, then his bungling of the finances after his father passed away and now losing the farm. His home. He squared his shoulders, determined not to wallow in self-pity. He’d go back to the farm, take stock of the books and start calling real estate agents to put it on the market and find a smaller place, maybe with room for ten horses instead of forty or fifty, a place he could afford. Though he figured no bank would look at the tumultuous profit and loss sheet of a farm and want to finance it. Tonight, he’d take things as they came. Charles had offered a loan. Right now, there was at least one person in the world who didn’t think he’d made a mess of things, and that meant a lot. Derek wondered where he’d find a decent buyer for his horse at the

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price he wanted. When it came to finding a new farm, Dio’s selling price might be the difference between homelessness and home. The drive wore on him. With nothing to break the view but scenery he’d seen a thousand times, Derek cursed having too much time to think. The sun set, dipping behind the horizon, and headlights reflected off the pavement. Closing his eyes, Derek rested his head against the headrest. The miles passed, accompanied by the hum of the tires against the pavement. “Did you fall asleep on me?” Charles’ voice broke the silence. Derek glanced at the clock on the console and saw a few hours had passed. “No,” he replied. “Just thinking. Probably too much.” He stifled a yawn with the back of his hand. Charles parked the truck by the barn and turned off the engine. The truck rumbled into silence, leaving them sitting there in the near-darkness, lit only by the dome light and a single bulb in front of the double doors of the barn. A yard lamp cast a tiny circle in the center and a security light illuminated the back door of the house. Shadows hugged every corner, insulating the farm. Charles’ cell phone broke the silence. “Hello,” he answered, then listened to the speaker on the other end. He nodded. “Yep, we just pulled in. No problem. I can go out early and exercise the horses.” Through the cell phone, Derek heard an apologetic voice. “I’m used to running on only a few hours’ sleep. I can take a nap in the afternoon or something. Don’t worry. I hope your daughter’s all right. Tell her we’ll have her back on her pony in no time.” After a few more pleasantries Charles hung up. “Everything all right?” Derek asked, reaching for the door handle. “Yeah. My new assistant trainer’s daughter fell from the jungle gym at school and broke her arm. Molly’s going to be staying home with her for a few days. You haven’t met her yet, but she’s bloody good with the young horses.” Charles opened the truck

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door and stepped out. “But nothing you need to worry about. I didn’t know what time I’d get home anyway.” Derek wondered at the hopeful gleam in Charles’ eyes as he stepped out of the truck and went to the trailer to unload Dio. While he settled Dio into his stall, Charles unloaded the tack trunks and blankets, setting everything in the small tack room. From inside the trailer, Charles’ own horses whinnied at the smell of hay and the sound of Dio’s soft whicker of greeting to a horse in the barn. Derek turned to find Charles standing behind him. He wanted to ask Charles to stay, but hated to keep the horses in the trailer longer than necessary. Wondering about the speculation he saw in his partner’s eyes, he stepped forward. “I appreciate your help. Sounds like you better make an early evening of it.” He didn’t have to fake the disappointment in his voice. Charles shrugged. “I can stay for a while. If you’re worried about the horses I can turn them out in the arena. They’re easy loaders, and I’m sure they wouldn’t mind.” Derek grinned. “Let me fill the water tank in the first paddock and make sure they have hay available.” He broke open a bale of hay and tossed the flakes into a wheelbarrow before pushing it out to the paddock. With quick motions he spread out the bundles of fragrant grasses. He pulled the hose out to the paddock and in no time, cool, clear water filled the tank. He watched as Charles turned out his horses, admiring the vision of breeches stretching across Charles’ taut ass. An image of Charles striding across the course, a riding crop looped around his wrist, made Derek shiver. His cock jerked to life, demanding attention. Derek leaned against the fence. Soon, three horses buried their muzzles in the hay, chewing noisily. Charles stopped behind him. Heat radiated from his body into Derek’s, standing so close Derek thought he could hear the pounding of Charles’ heart—as rough as his own. Full and heavy behind his fly, his cock ached. Anticipation filled the air. 58

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“You know, I could take you against the fence.” Charles’ breath caressed the back of Derek’s neck. Closing his eyes, Derek leaned against the solid strength of Charles behind him. From the pastures, crickets sang, their song a counterpoint floating through the humid air. A sultry night, perfect for lovers, and for a few hours Derek had Charles all to himself. He grinned. “Do you think I’d let you?” He widened his stance, wishing he were naked so his balls could hang free. Dropping his hand to his belt, Derek deftly unfastened it, letting the leather ends hang on either side of his fly. Charles stepped in closer. He grabbed Derek’s wrist, making his hand grasp the fence. The hard ridge of his cock pressed against Derek’s ass and Charles smiled. “Do you think you could stop me?” He reached around Derek and grabbed his other wrist. A bolt of heat shot through Derek. His lips parted, tingling, needing a kiss. He longed to taste Charles, to strip him right there and lick him from lips to toes. Closing his eyes, he imagined the salty flavor of man and musk bursting on his tongue, what it would feel like to trace the hard planes of Charles’ chest, down over his abs, until he laved his cock with his tongue. Derek drew a shuddering breath, trying not to climax in his jeans. Grasping Derek’s hand, Charles moved it lower, until his lover cupped his own cock. Charles flattened his palm over his hand in a possessive gesture. His teeth lightly grazed the side of Derek’s neck, claiming him, marking him, making him release a heady groan. He couldn’t resist curling his fingers around the hand at Derek’s cock and making it squeeze. He made him use his own hand to stroke his cock. Up and down, up and down, a caressing sweep that drew Derek’s balls tight against his body. If he freed his lover’s penis, he knew he’d feel fluid beading on the tip. Derek’s panting breaths echoed in his ears. The horses continued to graze placidly, unaware. Charles’ fingers flexed around Derek’s own, keeping his other hand pinned to the fence. He rubbed his cock against him, an assault from the front and the back. Night 59

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cloaked them. They hadn’t bothered turning on the arena lights, the light by the house provided enough illumination. One of the horses turned from the hay to drop to the ground and roll, sending up a plume of dust. Charles continued to rub his cock against Derek’s ass, back and forth, up and down. Charles slid his fingers to the button on Derek’s jeans. It slid free easily. Derek groaned at the feel of Charles’ fingers through his cotton T-shirt. His zipper lowered and his cock surged against his dark navy cotton briefs. With gentle motions, Charles freed him. Charles’ fingers, calloused from working with the horses, closed around Derek’s shaft. Derek bit back a groan. The feel of those fingers fisting around his cock nearly did him in. Instead he focused on the night, on the smell of hot, humid air, anything to keep himself from coming. Charles released him. A quick tug and Derek’s jeans and briefs dropped to his knees. The night air caressed his bare buttocks, his sac hanging full between his legs. Reaching around Derek with both hands, Charles cupped his balls and began to stroke his penis. “I want to make you chuck your muck,” Charles said, nipping Derek’s earlobe and tightened his grip. Sweat slicked Derek’s cock. Charles’ English slang always turned him on, and when spoken in that husky voice, nearly finished him off. Instead, he vowed to make it last, to make Charles work for it. “Maybe I want to make you come?” he countered. Charles laughed. He licked and nibbled Derek’s neck, biting and sucking. Derek clenched the fence, his other hand reaching behind him to grab Charles’ ass, the thick ridge of the man’s cock pressing into the cleft of his ass a reminder of pleasures to come. Derek ground against it, loving the way his lover’s hands worked his cock and balls. Oh yeah, just a little harder, a little farther. As if Charles could read his mind, his grip tightened, his strokes quickening. Derek’s moans filled the night. The horses didn’t care, and neither did he. His breath 60

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caught, his balls drew up tight against his body. A tingling started at the base of his spine, spreading outward, dragging his seed until it shot from his cock in waves. Light flashed behind Derek’s closed eyelids. “Oh yeah!” he shouted, his cock jerking in Charles’ hand.

For as long as he lived, Charles knew he’d cherish the feeling of Derek’s balls drawing against his body, his cock jerking within his grasp. He pressed a hard kiss to the top of Derek’s shoulder then unfastened his belt and breeches. Shoving the material to his knees, he used his come-soaked fingers to stroke his own cock. He knew Derek was clean, knew he himself was clean, and had no fears about disease. Tonight, he wanted to feel the length of his naked cock buried inside his lover. His slick fingers went to Derek’s anus, probing the puckered ring of muscle. First one finger, than a second slipped inside, and when he cupped Derek’s balls, Charles felt his lover’s cock stiffen again. “Randy, aren’t you?” he asked, muffling his chuckles against Derek’s neck. “Only for you,” Derek replied. Charles felt the truth in those three words. Heard it on the night air, sensed it in Derek’s panting breaths. Though the farm may fail, and Derek might find himself swept away in the tide, Charles knew he spoke the truth now. The words humbled him, made him wish he’d been a better rider and could have brought Dio home with a first-place ribbon and check. He didn’t, and right now, all they had was this moment, this loving. Perhaps in coming together their shared joy could mute the disappointment of the day. Charles rested the flushed head of his cock against Derek’s back entrance, savoring the moment. “Are you okay with this?” Charles asked, wanting to seek Derek’s permission before plunging his unprotected shaft inside. Derek nodded. “Fuck me, Charles. I want your cock inside me.” He thrust his ass back. 61

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Charles’ cock slid past the puckered ring of muscle, resting just inside his lover. So hot, so tight! Inch by glorious inch, he buried himself balls-deep inside. Derek’s words fanned Charles’ passion. He nuzzled the back of Derek’s neck, wanting to make this moment last. The feel of his naked cock inside his lover was so exquisite, Charles thought he would come from the sheer pleasure of it. The trust it took—just thinking about it tightened his balls. Slowly, Charles pulled back, savoring each inch until the head of his cock rested just inside once more. He squeezed Derek’s shaft, wanting his lover to know the extent of the pleasure rolling through his veins. He thrust forward again. A low groan erupted from his chest. Derek moaned. A simple sound, loud in the silence of the night, and it blew the last of Charles’ control. No longer did he think about the slow slide of flesh against flesh, only his burning need—a drive for fulfillment that sent him plunging into his lover’s ass over and over again. Husky sighs and low moans mingled with the shuffling of horses and night noises. “Charles!” Derek gasped as Charles’ fingers tightened around his cock. He stiffened and, with a guttural growl, came again. Warm jets of semen washed over Charles’ hand, the feel of the slick liquid intimate. A cool breeze quickly cooled his fingers but not Derek’s ardor, for he shoved his buttocks hard against Charles’ powerful thrusts. With his eyes closed and head thrown back, Derek looked like perfection. If the statue of David could come to life and be fucked, this was exactly what he’d look like. Gripping the fence, his hand next to Derek’s, Charles pounded into him. Faster and faster. Harder and harder. Like a stallion rutting, he bit Derek’s shoulder, making him moan. Derek’s half-hard cock twitched against Charles’ fingers. He felt it, there, just over the next rise, like the next jump around the bend— satisfaction. One more thrust, a burst of ecstasy that jolted from the soles of his feet to the top of his head, and with a hoarse shout, Charles came. Wave after wave of cum roared through his cock, bathing the inside of his lover’s tight channel. He leaned

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against Derek, letting him take all his weight. Then, mindful of his bad knee, he eased back, reluctant to lose the contact between them. “I want to take you inside and make love to you all night long,” Charles whispered. Derek released a sigh and looked at the horses grazing in the paddock. He tensed, and Charles suspected he fought an inner war. The disappointments of the day and heavy decisions weighed against the desire to give in to his suggestion. “Your trainer—” Derek began. “I know.” He pressed tiny kisses against the nape of Derek’s neck. He eased his cock out of him then quickly pulled up his breeches. “The horses could stay here for the night, though. I could drive the truck back later.” After what had to be the most intimate sex he’d ever had, he prayed Derek would say yes. Derek pulled up his pants then turned toward the house. “You know best,” he said, smiling an impish smile. “Race you to the house?”

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Chapter Five The shrill, frightened whinny of a horse pulled Derek from a nearly dreamless sleep. He lay in bed, heart pounding, smelling…smoke? The one word that scared every horseman filled his mind. Fire! He bolted upright, listening now to the crackling of flames and the screams of terrified horses. Pulling on a pair of jeans and tucking his bare feet into sneakers, he pushed aside the curtains to stare into the farmyard. Angry orange flames licked up the side of the barn next to the arena, smoke churning against the starry sky. The light bulb above the barn door was dead. Dio! His stall sat in the corner next to the angry flames. Derek bolted from the room, barely having the presence of mind to grab the cordless phone. Punching in 911, he reported the fire. The next call went to Charles. “Hello,” Charles’ sleepy voice floated down the line. “Fire! There’s a fire in the barn!” He threw the kitchen door open, slamming the screen door against the side of the house as raced outside. “What? Fire?” Charles sounded more awake. “Yeah! Fire! Get over here. I’ll need someone to trailer the horses.” Derek paused, sucking in deep breaths. He had to calm himself. He had to stay calm. Fire plan. Fire plan. Hadn’t he put a fire plan in place? He nodded, the details coming back to him. “Derek, don’t do anything stupid. I’m on my way.” On the other end of the line, Derek heard sounds as Charles moved around. “I’ve got to get the horses out.” He strode forward again, hurrying toward the barn. “I know, I know! But don’t do anything stupid. That barn’s old.”

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“I know.” Derek battled his rising panic. He reached the doors, his eyes snagging on the flames visible from the corner as they snaked their way toward the roof. Smoke billowed from cracks in the doors and the horses’ whinnies shook him. “Get over here!” He disconnected the call and shoved the phone into the back pocket of his jeans. Immediately the phone began to ring again. He had to do this. Dio was inside the barn, as were his other horses. He refused to stand by and watch the barn burn to ashes with them inside. A blanket, he needed a blanket. Flipping open the latch and hissing at the hot metal, he threw open the door. Heat rolled past him, a wall so thick it shoved him back. He stumbled, closing his eyes against the acrid smoke. Flames reached for him as if filled with insatiable hunger. Sucking in a deep breath, he raced through the open door. Inside the dark barn, Derek could barely see anything. The rolling smoke stung his eyes. He refused to press them closed, not wanting to blind himself further. There, by the hydrant, hung two rags. He flipped on the hydrant, thankful when cool water rushed out, and shoved the towels underneath. As soon as one was soaked, he tied it bandana-style around his mouth and nose. Cool water dripped over his sweat-soaked skin, shocking him into alertness. He quickly stepped into Dio’s stall, feeling for the halter and lead rope. Flames ate at the wall behind the horse and the searing buckles of the halter burned Derek’s fingers. He didn’t care. He slid the halter over Dio’s nose and buckled it, thankful the loose straps kept the hot hardware from pressing against Dio’s flesh. He draped the second rag over the horse’s eyes. For a moment Dio just stood there, tremors racking the animal’s body. “C’mon, Dio!” Derek yelled. He pulled on the lead rope. “Let’s go.” The sound of his owner’s voice seemed to calm the horse and he took a tentative step forward. The fire found the bales of hay stacked along the back of the barn. With a whoosh, flames engulfed the rear of the structure. 65

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Dio jumped forward. Derek barely had time to unfasten the neighboring stall, hoping the horse penned inside would see Dio fleeing and follow. “Run, Dio!” He slapped the horse on the rump. Dio needed no more encouragement. With the rag heavy over his eyes, he trotted forward, soothed by the sound of Derek’s voice and urged along by the slaps of the lead rope against his barrel. They cleared the front doors, the other horse following. Ignoring his burning lungs, Derek ran for the arena. He unclipped the lead rope and grabbed the rag off Dio’s eyes, letting the animal rush into the arena followed closely by his stable-mate. Derek closed the gate behind them. He coughed. Smoke filled his lungs. Taking in breaths that seared his trachea, Derek forced himself to go closer to the barn. He wished the authorities would arrive, wished Charles would come and help him. Right now he was alone—and with three remaining horses to save. Drawing as deep a breath as he could, he raced back into the barn. At the stall across the aisle from Dio’s, he wrapped the lead rope around the horse’s neck and pulled. The big bay refused to budge. Derek pulled again. His breath burned in his lungs, the need to breathe overwhelming. Keeping the rope around the horse’s neck, he used the tail to slap the horse. The creature bolted forward at last and Derek guided it into the arena. The smell of singed hair assaulted him as the horse rushed past to join the other animals. Derek drew in what air he could and raced back into the barn. This time, the heat nearly drove him outside. Only concern for the remaining two horses, both trapped in their stalls, drove him forward. A ceiling beam fell with a crash. It took out the side of one stall, the frightened horse within taking the opportunity to bolt for the door. Derek watched him go, not concerned about where the horse wandered as long as it was well clear of the barn.

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His sides ached, stabs of pain filling both lungs. Soot covered his head and chest. Sweat dripped into his eyes. His muscles burned, the need to save the last remaining horse driving him forward. A chunk of wall near the back of the barn gave with a crash and a shower of sparks. Swirling embers danced around him and his jeans boasted several holes from the flames. Derek didn’t care. He stood for precious seconds, nearly transfixed by the sight of sparks and embers floating in the sky. Gusts of wind blew the sparks across the driveway toward the house. Dry grass in the lawn smoldered then burst into flames. Derek couldn’t worry about the house. He clenched fingers that were blistered from the heat and hurried into the barn. Another downed beam stood between him and the last occupied stall. He wrapped his hands around the four-by-four post and lifted, muscles straining. The post moved but not enough, and flames shot from the end of the burning beam to the middle. Lifting again, Derek managed to shove the post aside enough to open the stall door. He grabbed the halter, the lead rope lost somewhere between the barn and the arena, and slid it over the young mare’s head before frantically fastening the buckles. Grabbing the nosepiece, he pulled. The mare stepped forward—and stopped short when she got to the flaming board. “Come on! You’ve got to get out of here,” Derek yelled, smacking her rump with his hand. The mare backed up. “No!” Derek barked. He struggled against the heat surrounding him, the crackling flames. Every instinct told him to run, to get the hell out of the barn before he died. Oxygen departed his lungs. He pressed one hand against the mare’s eyes, trying to shield her vision. Another smack and the mare stepped forward. Again, and Derek inched her toward the door. Overhead, the ceiling made ominous creaking noises. “Hurry. Hurry!” he urged the mare. 67

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Boards and shingles from the ceiling crashed down around them. The noise startled the horse, sending her running toward the barn doors. A beam plunged down onto Derek before he could follow, pinning him to the ground. More fiery rubble immediately hit the floor, blocking the horse’s exit. The fire whooshed. Between him and the last remaining horse, the fire roared. Derek sprawled helpless on the ground and gritted his teeth against the pain, his legs burning where the beam had landed. He looked over the debris and watched flames lick along the wood. The shrill whinny of the trapped horse echoed in his mind, a sound that would haunt him forever. Smoke rose from several places on his jeans. His bare chest and back throbbed with burns. He struggled to inch forward, but rubble anchored the beam lying on his legs. Derek fought to free himself, realizing with each passing moment the futility of his actions. In the distance he thought he heard sirens, but the roaring of the flames drowned out nearly all sounds. He struggled to draw breath. His eyelids fluttered. No! Damn it! He would not pass out. Somewhere beyond him, a dull thump told him the horse had dropped to her knees. The big chestnut mare—not even five years old, her coat so bright Derek only called her “Red”—would die. Derek knew it, even as his own mortality stared him in the face. “I’m sorry.” He worked his dry, cracked lips, though only a hoarse sound emerged. “I’m so sorry.” He reached for the beam once more then fell back. Wakefulness eluded him. Give in, a part of his mind told him. You’re broke. You can’t even sell a promising horse… Dio! His heart clenched at the thought of leaving his gelding, of leaving Charles. Derek struggled again. He managed to inch his legs forward, but not enough to free him. He’d never courted death, not even in the high-risk occupation of riding competitive show jumpers. It wasn’t like he evented—threw himself at commanding 68

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six-foot-tall obstacles that tested both horse’s and rider’s endurance. He rode show jumpers, the jumps just as high but far more forgiving. Yet, in the crackle of the fire that consumed his barn, his livelihood, he heard death calling. The sirens sounded closer, so close they might be in his very driveway. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. The blackness called, and pinned by heavy timbers he succumbed to smoke and heat. “I’m sorry, Charles,” he whispered, as his body fought for the last bit of oxygen. “Charles…”

***** An ambulance roared out of Derek’s driveway. Charles watched it go, knowing deep in his heart Derek had gone after the horses. After all, Charles knew if faced with the exact same circumstances, he would have too. He parked his truck haphazardly on the grass well away from the emergency vehicles. In the arena he saw his three horses still in their paddock, plus four of Derek’s standing next to the fence separating them. They didn’t look as if they’d go anywhere, but Charles didn’t want to take any chances. First, though, he needed to find out anything he could about Derek’s condition. He hurried up the gravel lane, stopping several yards from the emergency vehicles, next to a police officer. “You can’t come in here, sir.” The officer, a tall, older man, looked stern. “My partner, Derek—I saw an ambulance leave. Will he be all right? I’m here to take care of his horses.” “He knows you?” Charles nodded. “I rode Dio, the big chestnut,” he pointed out the horse in the paddock, “in a show yesterday. I have the entry papers in my truck if you want to see them. I’d like to take the horses to my place where they’ll be safe and can get medical treatment.” What he really wanted to do was haul ass to the hospital and find out if his lover still lived. “Is Derek all right?”

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The fire raged behind them. The angry red flames from the barn gradually dimmed as their fuel spent, but the high winds had obviously helped to ignite the house, which was now fully aflame. The smell of charred wood filled the air, and thick, black plumes of smoke rose toward the sky. Several firefighters, all volunteer, worked to douse the flames. He couldn’t imagine his lover diving into the barn and saving the horses. Well, he could—but to survive for very long in the fiery hell must have been awful. Not knowing whether the horses would come, trying to get out before the structure caved. Most of the barn lay in ruins, walls and roof collapsed. “He tried to be a hero. They pulled him from the barn. He’s burned pretty badly and suffered from smoke inhalation. They took him to the local hospital.” “Was he conscious?” The police officer shrugged. “I don’t know. The medics did their job.” “Thank you,” Charles said. “I’m going to get the horses now. Do you need to see the papers?” “Yeah,” the officer said. Charles nodded and hurried back to his truck. He returned with his driver’s license, the entry information from the show, Dio’s papers and the papers for his own horses. He quickly showed them to the officer, who nodded. “Take them,” he said. “But stay away from the fire.” At the officer’s words the crash of timbers sounded from the house as a geyser of sparks and flames rose toward the sky. The structure collapsed, everything inside it lost. Charles hurried toward the arena, halters and lead ropes looped over his shoulders. His three horses came to him, as did Dio. The others followed and Charles easily caught them. He led the horses to his truck and loaded them in pairs. The smell of smoke filled the air, making him choke, and he wondered how Derek had survived in the barn. Charles had noticed several of the horses had large burn marks.

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He backed out of the driveway and headed back to his farm. Time slowed to a crawl. At last, he pulled into his driveway. He’d woken Molly, hating to pull her out of bed but knowing he’d need help with the horses. She met him as he parked the truck and immediately started unloading the horses. With her brown hair pulled back in a ponytail and dressed in a T-shirt, jeans and boots, she looked younger than her thirtytwo years. “I appreciate you coming out here,” he said. “I know your little girl’s not feeling well.” “She’s sleeping. And it’s the least I can do. I’ve called the vet. He’ll be here shortly. As soon as we get the horses unloaded and the trailer unhitched, I want you to go to the hospital. I can take care of things here.” She led Dio into the wash stall where his burns could be soothed with cold water. “You sure?” Charles followed, leading three more horses. He quickly tied them to the crossties and the weary creatures simply stood there, noses nearly touching the ground. “I can stay until we get them stabilized, and Derek is going to want to know how they are.” He spoke to Molly’s retreating back as he turned on the hydrant. She returned moments later and tied the last three horses before taking the hose from him. “I’ve freshened the bedding in your horses’ stalls, and put out fresh flakes of hay and cold water. Doc and I can take care of them. Go!” Charles didn’t hesitate. “Thank you.” He hurried out to the truck, unhitching the trailer in record time. Jumping into the driver seat, he started the vehicle and did a uturn in his driveway. The nearest hospital was fifteen miles away, and he cursed each one. Fishing his cell phone out of the holster at his hip, he called information for the hospital. Moments later, he learned Derek had been taken to a bigger facility, one better equipped for burn victims. Fuck. That didn’t sound good. As far as he and Derek had come, he now feared something out of his control would tear it all away. The loss of Derek’s house, his barn, none of it mattered to Charles so long as his lover was safe. He should have told him he 71

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loved him, should have said something on the phone. Anything to make Derek think twice about rushing into a burning barn. He pounded his fist on the steering wheel and pressed down the accelerator. He hoped he wouldn’t meet a cop, because right now, nothing would get him to stop. Not until he told Derek he’d never stopped loving him. Charles exhaled a shaky breath, acknowledging the fear and worry he’d shoved deep inside him when he first received Derek’s call. Of course the hospital wouldn’t release Derek’s condition over the phone, and the extra miles he now needed to drive wore on him. He pushed the truck close to seventy-five miles per hour on the two-lane highway leading to the hospital. Derek would be fine. Derek had to be fine. Charles didn’t know what he’d do if he lost him. Clinging to his hope, Charles drove the last few miles. The sound of rubber hitting the road vibrated through the truck, and luckily he passed few vehicles. Closer to the city he slowed, and soon turned into the parking ramp, thankful to find a spot on the ground floor. He forced himself to walk briskly—not run—to the emergency room entrance. He found a harried-looking nurse behind the desk. She informed him Derek was awake and in an examination room. He could have visitors. Charles didn’t press for his condition, wanting to see Derek for himself. Dodging the traffic of hospital personnel and patients, he found the room and stopped just outside. The door was partially closed, and from inside Charles heard the steady beeping of many monitors. His stomach dropped. Wiping sweaty palms on his jeans, Charles pushed open the door. He saw a figure lying in the bed, wires and tubes running from it. A low light illuminated the room. “Derek?” Charles whispered as he strode toward the figure on the bed. In the shadows, he saw only his slim build and a huge cast on one leg. White bandages stood out in stark contrast to the blanket and his tanned skin. He hurried to the side of the bed and curled his fingers at his side, afraid to touch him and cause more pain.

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Derek turned his head on the pillow, a slow rotation that spoke volumes about his condition. He licked his lips and swallowed hard. “Charles? Is that you?” He lifted a hand and could only manage to raise it as far as the bed rails. “It’s me.” He rested his hand on Derek’s—a light touch, but enough to make him wince with pain. Charles started to pull his hand away. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.” Tonight or back in Athens. It didn’t matter. The fact that Derek lived meant more to him than anything. Unshed tears of joy stung his eyes. He’d feared Derek lost, gone to him forever. Derek opened his eyes. “The horses? Are they all right?” Charles nodded. “I took Dio and the others from the arena, and they’re over at my place being fussed over by Molly and having the vet take a look at them. Some singed hair and a few burns, but I think everyone will be all right. How are you doing?” “Red.” Derek closed his eyes. “Red was still in the barn. She didn’t make it, did she?” A moment’s guilt stabbed Charles for not knowing exactly how many horses Derek had in the barn. From the structure’s condition, burned-out and collapsed, Charles knew nothing living could have survived. “I’m sorry. The barn was burned to the ground.” Derek sighed. “I knew she was gone as I lay there trapped. I’d just hoped, somehow…” He reached gingerly for his singed hair. “I think I’ll be okay. I nearly lost my hair and I have lots of burns. A broken leg. I’m fucking lucky. A beam collapsed on me.” “Oh, Derek!” The image of his lover lying beneath the charred boards filled his mind, an image Charles knew would haunt him forever. He reached behind him for a chair and pulled it over to the side of the bed, sinking onto the hard seat. “I wish I’d stayed.” “No,” Derek said, his voice hoarse. He licked his lips again.

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Charles reached for the pitcher beside the bed and poured a glass of water. He held it to Derek, angling the straw, and his lover took several small sips. He replaced the cup on the bedside table. “I’m glad you weren’t there,” Derek said, giving Charles’ hand a gentle squeeze to soothe the sting in his words. “If you were then you might have gone into the barn after me, and you might have been hurt even worse.” “I would have, too.” Charles brushed a strand of hair from Derek’s forehead. “I love you. I’ve never stopped loving you. I can’t bear to think what I would have done if you had died.” “The docs say I’ll heal. It will be a long road but I’ll come out of it. I’m glad you were there to take care of the horses.” Derek fell silent. “No problem. They’ll probably have to stay with me for a while.” He didn’t know how to soften the blow. “And you can, too.” “The house is gone too?” From the fatalistic look in Derek’s eyes, Charles realized his lover already knew the answer. Charles nodded. “I’m so sorry. I’ll offer whatever I can. You’re safe. That’s what’s important.” “Thanks. I won’t be a burden.” Charles smiled. “You won’t be. I promise.” He knew he owed Molly big time for caring for the horses, and suspected the additional animals might cut time a bit short for all of them, but they’d manage. For Derek, he’d jump the moon on horseback if that’s what it took to secure his partner’s love. “Okay.” A nurse stepped into the room to check on him, followed by doctors. Throughout the examination Charles stood by his side, only releasing Derek’s hand when the doctor wanted to check on the burns.

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He loved Derek, and he was alive. As long as Derek would let him, he’d remain by his side.

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Chapter Six Several weeks after the fire, his leg graduated into a brace, Derek limped out to the barn. Living with Charles these past weeks only made Derek think of things that he wanted, yet feared. Charles had changed since Athens. Derek saw it in his carriage, in the way he helped Derek, doted on him even, and the love shining from his eyes only made Derek’s decisions harder. The insurance people still rooted through the burnt-out remains of a farm he hadn’t seen since the night of the fire. The mortgage company still threatened foreclosure now that the promised insurance check hadn’t arrived. In one way, Dio’s loss had evened the scales between him and Charles. Each had ridden the other’s horse, and each had left the arena with a downed rail and lost glory. Derek sat on the bench outside the barn and stretched his leg before him. In the arena, Molly rode one of his horses, further underscoring how dependant Derek had come to be on Charles and his staff. He hated being dependant, hated feeling as if he couldn’t do things. He’d cared for himself for so many years it felt awkward to lean on someone else. Derek rose to his feet, determined to do something on his own. He’d been to the barn before, mostly on nose-petting missions because Charles wouldn’t let him tack up the horses or groom—anything that would’ve made him feel useful. With Charles away at the tack store, Derek found that for a few hours at least, he could pretend as if he were in control of his destiny when in reality his world spiraled away from him faster than he could catch it. He paused inside the barn, letting his eyes adjust to the dim light. The doors were open, letting a breeze through, and the concrete walk had been freshly swept. Light filtered through barred windows in the stalls and a large fan circulated air. The modern

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structure contrasted sharply with his smaller, home-built barn, the very barn that lay in ashes. Dio stood in his stall. He snorted gently, poking his nose against the bars as Derek limped down the aisle. Reaching into his pocket, Derek fingered the treats he had there, carrying an apple in his other hand. As he neared the stall Dio whinnied, a boisterous sound of greeting that was picked up by the other horses in the barn. “Hey there, boy,” Derek crooned. He reached through the bars and patted Dio’s muzzle. “How’re you doing?” Dio lipped the bars and Derek’s fingers, trying to get a treat. Derek unfastened the door, sliding it back on well-oiled hinges. Dio poked his nose through the opening and Derek offered him the apple. The gelding devoured it in two bites, just long enough for Derek to snap a lead rope to his halter and lead him out back to the outdoor wash rack. It was too nice a day to be cooped up inside. As if he understood his master’s injury, Dio walked sedately beside Derek on his way outside and stood still while he fastened him to the crossties. Derek went back into the barn for Dio’s new grooming kit, another gift from Charles. He carried the plastic tote filled with brushes outside, and hung it on the fence. He grabbed a currycomb, working the rubber bristles in a circular motion through Dio’s coat. The singed hair, he noticed, was growing back nicely. Charles and Molly took excellent care of the gelding and only a light amount of dust and dander rose to the surface from Derek’s brushing. He patted Dio, letting the comforting smell of horses and the warm rays of sunshine soothe his nerves. His worries floated away like leaves on a stream until it was only Dio and Derek. Dio looked as if he loved living at Charles’ barn. Of course, he enjoyed being at home too, but with steady care and Charles’ daily rides, Dio flourished. A healthy shine radiated from his coat, his hooves were neat and polished. He looked fitter, more muscled, and when Charles rode him there was a spring in his step. “We’re coming to

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rely on him too much.” Derek patted Dio on the neck then exchanged the currycomb for a stiff-bristled brush. He continued grooming, putting muscle behind each stroke of the brush over the gelding’s coppery coat. Losing himself in the chore, he refused to think about what would happen now that his leg was healing. In his first days and weeks after being discharged from the hospital, with his leg in a heavy cast, it was so easy to let Charles do everything. Charles said he loved him. Had said it in the emergency room, and then over and over afterward. Derek closed his eyes. Would he ever be ready to say he loved Charles back? Would he ever be ready to lose his fear enough to enter into a long-term relationship? Charles was so open and free with his feelings, and Derek feared hurting him. As if sensing the direction of his owner’s thoughts, Dio snorted. Derek stilled his brushing, watching as his horse snorted again and shook himself. A chuckle bubbled up from his throat and he found he couldn’t keep his morose thoughts for now. Right now he had a home. He hoped everything else would sort itself out with time.

***** Excited about a new young jumper prospect he received a lead on at the tack store, Charles stepped into the empty house. He stopped just inside, listening to the whirring of the refrigerator and the ticking of the clock. Without moving another step, Charles knew Derek wasn’t there. “Derek?” Charles listened to his voice echo through the empty rooms. “Derek?” He stepped forward, hurrying, more certain with each step that Derek was gone. But gone where? And how? Maybe he was in the yard, but Charles hadn’t seen him on the benches by the barn where he liked to sit, nor had he been sitting near the arena watching Molly exercise his horses. He could be in the barn, Charles reasoned, trying

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not to let his fears override his common sense. And with his leg in a brace, he couldn’t have gotten far. Unless Derek had taken his truck. Charles whirled to check the garage. He strode through the kitchen, noting the freshly washed cup and saucer in the dish drainer and the steam rolling from a full load of dishes. The dishwasher must have just finished. Charles smiled. Meticulous about helping out, Derek oftentimes did the dishes, and when something wouldn’t fit he washed it by hand instead of waiting for the next load. The plumes of vapor soothed his jangled nerves. If Derek had left, it hadn’t been long ago. He crossed to the door leading into the mudroom and the garage and opened it, thankful when he saw Derek’s truck sitting there, the paint still peeling from the fire. Charles exhaled a sigh of relief. Dragging his fingers through his hair, he cursed himself for being such a worrier. It was obvious Derek was probably spending time in the barn. He did so more and more these days. Already he hinted that he would like his own place, a discussion Charles didn’t relish. He didn’t understand why Derek couldn’t stay. Why wouldn’t he want to stay? His horses were well cared for, there was plenty of land for more animals and more than enough room in the house. Derek had already turned an empty room into his den, though he had little to fill it with at the moment. Charles knew a couple of the upstairs bedrooms could be converted if Derek thought he needed more space. So why didn’t he want to stay? He shook his head as he strode toward the front door. He knew Derek’s history as well as anyone could. There had been a horrid affair—a lover caught cheating, a scene gone wrong. Add to that a mother who’d abandoned a growing boy and the ensuing trust issues with his father’s gambling debts. Charles thought his actions showed that he would stand by Derek through anything and that he was ready to enter into a relationship. Can’t push a reluctant horse toward a scary jump. When it came to training horses, slow and steady progress won by patience created the desirable outcome. Mentally

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reviewing training advice, Charles chafed at the idea of treating Derek like a young horse. Still, the advice was sound and Charles had plenty of patience. One of these days it would be rewarded. He stepped outside and watched Molly work one of Derek’s horses. He thought he’d seen something between Molly and the vet during his most recent visit, but had been more focused on Derek and his horses. Charles smiled. Molly was a good woman and a hard worker. She deserved a little fun. And rumor had it the vet was ready for some. Stifling his chuckle as Molly rode toward him, he ducked into the barn. Dio’s stall stood open. At last, a lead. Slight tracks of bedding led toward the far door and Charles followed them until he stepped outside and saw Dio standing at the wash rack. Derek stood beside him, polishing Dio with a soft rag. His coat gleamed and water glistened on Dio’s whiskers. His hooves shining with polish, Dio looked as if he should be standing for a winning photo. Charles leaned against the wall in the shade from the overhang of the barn roof, not wanting to disturb this moment. Derek winced as he put a bit too much weight on his leg and it took all of Charles’ willpower not to run over to him and suggest he sit down and rest. Derek continued rubbing his horse, his movements effortless as if he had done this a thousand times. And probably he had. This was the man he loved. The strong, stubborn man with hands gentle enough to rub a shine into his horse’s coat or bring Charles’ cock to life with a touch. Closing his eyes, he enjoyed the swell of blood to his penis, the knowledge that later on Derek and he would make love. He stepped forward, unable to wait. Derek looked up from his task. His easy smile faded and he curled his fingers around the rag. “You’re back.” “I am. Dio’s looking good. If you polish him much more we won’t be able to look at him without wearing sunglasses.” He halted at the end of the wash rack, careful not to get too close, not to make Derek think he was about to herd him into the house. Well, he was—but not for the reasons Derek suspected. 80

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“The leg feels good today.” Derek folded the rag and laid it in the tote. “I’d love to get on his back, but I know what the doctor said.” He sighed, frustration radiating from every pore. “I’m sure I’d be fine in a smaller brace, but I’ll follow doctor’s orders. Still, it’s nice to be out here.” Charles stepped forward, drawn to Derek. He stopped beside him then reached up and smoothed his hand along Dio’s top line. “He’s muscled up quite a bit. What are your plans for the guy?” “Keep campaigning him.” Derek fed Dio a treat from his pocket. The horse lipped at it greedily. Charles noticed Derek didn’t say he was going to keep trying to sell Dio. A slip or a sign he accepted Charles’ support? “He’s going to go places,” Charles replied, moving in closer. He slid his fingers from Dio’s back to the back of Derek’s hand where his fingers held the brush. Slowly he stroked Derek’s arm, until his fingers rested on his shoulder. This close he could smell Derek’s cologne and inhaled the woodsy fragrance. A quick glance down showed a growing bulge behind Derek’s fly. Charles smiled. He cupped his hand on the back of Derek’s neck. “God, I missed you today.” Leaning forward, he brushed his lips across Derek’s mouth. For a moment Derek held himself stiffly, as if unwilling to give in to the gentle pressure of Charles’ lips on his. Then the brush rolled from Dio’s back to clatter on the ground and Derek’s hand gripped Charles’ arm. Charles deepened the kiss, brushing the seal of Derek’s lips with his tongue. With a groan, Derek opened his mouth and Charles delved into the warm, wet cavern. His cock instantly hardened. He tasted the faint traces of chocolate and suddenly he wanted to drizzle it over his lover and lap it from his skin. Charles pulled away long enough to draw in breath and deepen the angle of the kiss. Wrapping his arm around Derek, Charles hauled him close, so close that he felt the ridge of his lover’s erection pressing against his own. He splayed his fingers across Derek’s firm ass and squeezed gently. 81

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Charles ravished Derek with his mouth. All the pent-up fear and worry surged to the fore, all the times he wondered whether he’d lose Derek, the worry that his lover would leave and never return. He wanted to brand his ownership upon Derek’s skin. Some distant part of his mind registered the sound of hooves against concrete. “Excuse me,” Molly said as she led the horse back into the barn. Her words barely penetrated the red haze of passion filling him. Derek pulled away. His chest rose and fell with each ragged breath. “Molly…” Charles captured his fingers, pressing them against Derek’s chest. “Has seen us kissing before,” he finished, claiming Derek’s lips once more, pressing his tongue deep into his mouth before nibbling and sucking on his lower lip. Against his leg, Charles felt Derek’s thigh muscles clench, a sign he had overtaxed his leg. “I’ll put Dio away. Why don’t you go inside and put your leg up?” He soothed his words by palming the back of Derek’s thigh. “I can put Dio away,” Derek insisted. He extracted himself from Charles’ embrace and untied the horse, quickly leading him back into the barn. Charles watched him go. How long were they going to play this cat and mouse game? His cock throbbed, balls heavy and full within the confines of his jeans. His lips tingled and he still tasted Derek. When was Derek going to admit that they were good together? That he loved Charles as much as Charles loved him. Frustration rolled through him in waves. A rider had to be in full control of the situation at all times. He watched Derek put Dio away and linger for a moment, patting the horse in his stall before shutting the door. Molly led her horse out to the wash rack. Sweat soaked its coat where the saddle had been and trailed over the beast’s legs. “You can’t hold the reins too tightly,” she warned as she passed. Charles admitted the truth in her words, but sometimes the horse needed to be schooled so it could grow. It was high time Derek succumbed to the inevitable.

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He let Derek take the lead across the yard toward the house, though Charles followed closely. He watched the fit of snug denim across Derek’s ass, knowing he’d soon be buried inside his lover’s body. Derek moved well, not even limping, though his leg had to hurt. It was almost a challenge, and one Charles wouldn’t ignore. Charles followed Derek inside, smiling when his lover made a direct line to the stairs leading to his bedroom. A quick flick of his wrist and the front door locked. He paused at the phones in the living and dining rooms, turning the ringers off, then hurried upstairs to find Derek undressing. Charles leaned in the doorway. He unfastened the button of his jeans and drew the zipper partially down, giving his cock room. Derek peeled off his shirt, revealing a chest sculpted from physical labor. He removed his brace, wincing as he sat down on the bed, then shucked jeans, boxers, socks and shoes. Derek looked up at Charles, a half-smile on his lips as he cupped his balls. He stroked his cock, smoothing his thumb over the sensitive head. “Get on your stomach,” Charles ordered. He strode toward the bed, removing clothing as he went. He opened the nightstand and withdrew a handful of condoms, though he’d let Derek call the shots when it came to whether they were used or not. He also grabbed a vibrating cock ring with a wireless remote. Derek still sat on the bed. He glanced at the toy in his lover’s hand and arched an eyebrow. “You going to use that on me?” “Maybe.” Charles stood before Derek, so close that his partner leaned forward, gently released his cock from his boxers and drew his tongue along its length. With a groan, Charles curled his fingers around Derek’s shoulder. Not yet. He didn’t want to come, and if Derek kept up his tender licks Charles would explode in his mouth. He bent down far enough to nibble and suck on Derek’s earlobe, then reached between them and fastened the ring around Derek’s cock. “Get on your stomach,” he said again. “Maybe I want to—” Derek wrapped his lips around Charles’ cock, sucking him hard. 83

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Charles groaned. Derek was trying to wrest control, and looking down at Derek’s full, heavy lips wrapped around his shaft, his cheeks hollowing with each stroke, Charles knew he’d better take it back—fast. Derek drew him deeper into his mouth, so deep that the tip of Charles’ cock brushed the back of his throat. He relaxed his jaw and deep-throated him. “Derek,” Charles growled in half warning, half desire. He cupped the back of Derek’s head, thrusting gently. He still held the remote, and a flick of his thumb set the cock ring to buzzing. Derek sucked harder. Maybe he should let Derek suck him off. Take the edge off things. No. If he did that, then he’d lose the upper hand. A few more moments of Derek’s lips and tongue on his cock and he’d blow his wad, losing whatever control he had. Grasping Derek’s hair, he gently pulled his mouth away from his shaft, flipping the switch on the remote and making the cock ring buzz faster. “Damn,” Derek swore. Charles glanced down, noting with satisfaction the ripe head of Derek’s cock flushed purple with blood and passion. Balls drawn tight, Derek looked as if he’d come at any moment. Charles didn’t ease back on the vibrations. “Lay down on your stomach.” Charles toyed with the remote—faster, slower, faster, slower, until Derek’s breath came in tiny pants and he slowly moved to stretch his body out on the comforter. Derek spread his legs, giving Charles a good view of his balls and ass. He shifted on the bed until he found a comfortable position. Charles grabbed five silk neckties hanging on a rack on the outside of the closet door. Quickly, before Derek had too much time to protest, he fastened his lover’s wrists and ankles to the bedposts. Then he crawled over him until his erection pressed against Derek’s buttocks and his lips touched the nape of Derek’s neck.

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Take it slow. Charles repeated the mantra in his mind, wanting to control his lover’s five senses. He wrapped the final tie around Derek’s eyes, knotting it behind his head, and felt Derek shudder beneath him. The windows were open, admitting cool, fresh breezes and the sounds of the farm. From horses whinnying occasionally to the chirp of birds and the distant roar of cars, all the sounds blended together. Charles pressed his lips to Derek’s nape. He kissed along Derek’s spine, tiny touches with lips and tongue, taking his attention down the length of each arm, over biceps and triceps and down long, slender fingers. Charles lingered over each digit, sucking them into his mouth in turn. Beneath him, Derek moaned. “You’re mine,” he whispered as he returned his attention to Derek’s back, working his featherlight kisses lower over the twin globes of his buttocks and down strong, muscled legs. Charles worshipped his body. The desire to make Derek feel needed, wanted, drove through him. “You’re mine,” he whispered again as he caressed the bottoms of Derek’s feet, light enough to make his toes curl. He reached for the remote on the bed and turned off the cock ring, wanting Derek to focus only on his touch. Charles palmed Derek’s ass. He blew over his puckered hole, the light breath teasing. Reaching between Derek’s legs, Charles caressed his skin and felt his balls draw tight against his body. His own needs faded into the background, his entire being focused on his partner. This was what they were missing before, this complete, all-consuming devotion. Charles bit lightly on Derek’s ass, loving the feel of flesh between his teeth. Derek moaned, pressing his buttocks toward Charles. Charles slid his hand under Derek’s body and curled his fingers around his cock. The hard shaft filled his hand, throbbing with a determined need mirrored in Charles’ body. Two bodies, two souls coming together in need and desire. That was what Charles wanted. Not a rutting stallion, not a quickie fuck. “Please, Charles,” Derek breathed. “Oh God, just fuck me!” He thrust against Charles’ fingers.

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Charles squeezed gently. “Not yet.” He crawled over his lover’s body and grabbed the bottle of lube from the nightstand. Pouring a generous amount into his palm, he slicked his fingers and returned his hand to Derek’s cock. With his other hand he traced the crack of his lover’s ass, fingers pausing over his anus. The tip of one slick finger slid into Derek’s anus. He bucked and moaned, trying to find some relief from the fingers around his shaft or in his ass. “Please…” Derek begged. Charles sank his finger in to the first knuckle, than the second, thrusting gently. Around Derek’s cock, his fingers squeezed and released, stroking a steady rhythm that had Derek testing his restraints. Charles wanted his lover to come, right there, at the mercy of his fingers. He leaned forward and licked a trail along Derek’s spine. He added a second finger to his tight hole, loving the way Derek’s flesh stretched to accommodate him. Give and take, push and shove, thrust and retreat—it was the way a relationship worked, the relationship he wanted with Derek. He watched his hands clench, fingers curling into the comforter. And Charles realized he was wrong. He sat there for a moment, feeling the twitch of his lover’s cock against his palm, fingers buried inside his lover’s anus, and knew that his need to control Derek, to rein him in like an unruly horse, was misguided. He missed the feel of Derek’s fingers against his skin, his lips against his cock. He could order those things done, force Derek into a game of submission and dominance neither one of them wanted to play. He slid his fingers from Derek’s body before leaning back and unfastening the ties around his ankles. His legs remained open, balls bared. And in that moment Charles felt Derek’s submission. He stroked his own cock until it glistened with lubrication and then moved to penetrate his lover. Resting his cock head against Derek’s anus, he stretched his body along his and pulled at the knots holding his wrists to the bedposts, releasing them. “Are you ready for me to fuck you?” 86

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Chapter Seven The unfastening of the knots at his wrists and ankles shocked him. Derek had been anticipating a rough domination. Not that he minded, not at all, but the sudden return of his autonomy, the gentling of Charles’ touch, only seemed to confuse things. If it was just sex, Derek knew he could handle it. But Charles had already said he loved him. And Derek feared he loved Charles too. When he first came home from the hospital he’d thought he wanted to find a farm of his own. Now, lying here on the bed with Charles, feeling him kiss and caress every inch of his body, feeling his skin hum with anticipation, wondering what Charles would kiss or caress next, he wondered if he ever wanted to leave. The throb of his leg, his own damn fault for overdoing things, faded to a dull roar in the back of his mind. Derek arched his back, raising his ass to present it to his lover. Charles slipped his cock past the tight ring of muscle. He hovered there, barely inside, and Derek closed his eyes and buried his face in the pillow, trying not to cry out from the pure pleasure of it. Like coming home. Like taking a large oxer combination in perfect synch with his horse. Like winning an Olympic medal. Charles slid home and Derek moaned. He clutched the bedspread, bound at Charles’ mercy as surely as if he were still tied. Lifting his buttocks, he invited Charles deeper, heard his guttural growl as he pumped his cock. The ring around his penis forgotten, Derek concentrated on the heavy weight of Charles’ body against his. Charles reached along his arms, tangling their fingers, and Derek surrendered. Charles thrust gently, slowly, as if he savored every moment. Derek moaned, feeling his balls tight against his body, the rasp of the sheets against his sensitive

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nipples. Pleasure radiated through his body, coursing up his spine, so hard and fast he feared the top of his skull would blow. “Please,” Derek breathed. “Oh, please.” He pulled his hand down along the sheet, taking Charles’ with him. He wanted to grasp his cock, wrap his fingers around it and stroke until he found release. Charles chuckled against his neck as he untangled his hand from Derek’s. “You want me to touch you?” He trailed his fingers along Derek’s ribs, tracing each one. Derek shivered. “Yes,” he hissed. He rose to his knees, his ass in the air, giving Charles better access to his cock. His hand slid lower. A quick release of the cock ring and Charles closed his fingers around Derek’s turgid shaft. Closing his eyes, Derek leaned back, breath hissing from between clenched teeth. He rocked his hips, rising onto his hands to get more leverage, feeling Charles’ cock buried in his ass and his fingers around his cock. The twin sensations roared through his body like a freight train. One thrust, two, and an all-toofamiliar tingling started at the base of his spine. Oh god, no, he couldn’t come now. He wanted to take this ride as far as it would go, to hover on the edge of pleasure until he couldn’t take any more. Derek bit his lip, willing his body to comply. His cock had other ideas. Charles’ fingers worked their magic, finding the sweet spot just behind his head and stroking the long vein that ran along the underside. Derek couldn’t help himself. He thrust against Charles’ hand, lost in the sensation of being penetrated and stroked at the same time. “I’m going to come,” he warned, wanting to slow the hot rush of seed from his body. He looked down at his cock with its dark, purple head, gazing at Charles’ fingers wrapped around the shaft, stroking hard and long, exactly the way Derek liked it. “Oh, Charles! I’m going to come all over your hand…” “Do it!” he growled. He thrust once more, buried balls-deep inside Derek’s ass, and stiffened. With a roar, he came. 88

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Derek exploded. Wrapping his own fingers around Charles’, he gave one final stroke. His muscles tightened as he cried out, a triumphant shout. White lights flashed behind his eyes, the pleasure racing through his body like an out-of-control horse. Wave after wave of ecstasy pounded through him and still his cock remained semi-hard in Charles’ grip. Spent, he slumped to the sheets. Charles’ cock left him, sliding away with a soft pop. Derek lamented that loss even as Charles snuggled against him, one hand sliding across his shoulder. Warmth touched Derek from nape to toes, like being wrapped in a large blanket. Derek shifted slightly so they spooned. He lay there, waiting for his breathing to steady, his heart rate to slow down. How could he think about buying his own farm now? How could he dare leave after experiencing Charles’ loving tenderness? His own problems hadn’t left. He still had a farm to pay off, bills and an impending foreclosure. Yet lying there in his lover’s warm embrace, Derek realized that if he left now, he’d only be running again. And if he ran this time, he’d be running forever. The thought sobered him. He couldn’t let Charles go. Yet, he couldn’t ignore the persistent thought that he shouldn’t stay, not with things in his life as they are. Derek pressed his lips together and forced the stiffness from his body. Charles brushed a kiss across Derek’s cheek. “I’m going to go take a shower,” he said, and moments later left the bed. Derek closed his eyes, listening to his lover’s footsteps as he padded naked into the bathroom. He thought about gazing his fill, watching Charles’ naked body and letting his soul-deep hunger show in his eyes. No, he couldn’t. If he did, then he’d have to believe everything was all right between them when Derek knew the truth. No one loved him forever. His mother went out for groceries one day, shortly after discovering he was gay—a fact he already knew as a young pre-teen—and never came back. He didn’t find out 89

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until his father picked him up three hours after school had ended, and although his father never told him the exact reason why his mother left, Derek knew it had to do with him. His father sought solace in a bottle and in betting on the horses. Bed partners came and went. And once Derek matured he’d lived a similar carefree lifestyle. Until Charles. Right now Charles might say he loved him, but deep inside Derek knew eventually Charles would grow tired of him, and once again he’d be on his own. And if he sold Dio to pay for the bills… No. He couldn’t let his thoughts go down that path. Why was it always in the tender moments that the ugly memories surfaced? Why couldn’t he just let himself be happy? Derek sat abruptly, gripping the bed against the wash of dizziness at the sudden movement. His cock, fully hard, demanded he go into the bathroom and take Charles right there in the shower. Derek stood. He needed time and space, and he received neither in this house with Charles constantly telling him he loved him. But oh, how to tell Charles that he needed to get away, just to clear his mind, to figure things out between them? He knew what Charles would say—that he overanalyzed. Charles told him he thought too much, felt too little. Derek remembered the words from a fight they’d had before the Olympics. Maybe he should just let it all go. His thoughts churned in his mind and his feet carried him into the bathroom. Plumes of steam rose from behind the shower doors, obscuring the mirror. Behind the doors, the wavy silhouette of Charles’ naked body as he stood, head tipped back, fingers working in his hair. The scent of his shampoo, his soap, filled the air and made Derek’s cock twitch. He closed his hand around the door handle. Charles didn’t turn. He had to know Derek stood out there, had to realize what was about to happen. Opening the shower door, he stepped inside. Standing behind Charles, the spray missed his body. Warm steam wrapped around him, a cocoon as comforting as Charles’ arm. Derek rested his hands on Charles’ 90

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shoulders, than traced the muscles down to his lean hips and tight buttocks. “I think it’s my turn, don’t you?” he asked as he reached for the soap and started lathering his body. Charles braced his hands on the shower wall, head bent, water sluicing over his body. “Take me.” The two words sent a shiver down Derek’s spine. He reached around Charles’ hip with a soapy hand and closed his fingers around his cock. He caressed with long, firm strokes, drawing his hand all the way to the head of Charles’ cock. The other hand reached around and fondled his balls. Charles groaned. Against his lover’s neck, Derek smiled. He rubbed his cock against Charles’ buttocks, loving the way the other man thrust against his hands. Derek closed his eyes and drew in a shaky breath. He bit and nibbled along Charles’ shoulder, down his back, his fingers never ceasing their stroking. Charles leaned back against him, his head nestled in his shoulder. Derek studied his face, the lines of pleasure etched into his skin. Eyes closed, lips parted, Charles looked like a man in the throes of ecstasy. “Do you think you’re ready?” He nibbled along Charles’ neck, up to his earlobe to draw the plump flesh between his lips. Derek sucked hard. “Do you want my cock inside you?” he whispered. “Yes,” Charles moaned. He thrust his buttocks against Derek. Reluctant to remove his fingers from Charles’ flesh, he let his gaze fix on the bottle of waterproof lube they kept in the shower. “I want you to lube up my cock.” Charles complied. He reached for the bottle and poured a generous amount of clear liquid into his palm. Reaching behind him again, he added the slick liquid to Derek’s cock. His angle made it messy, had him smearing lube over Derek’s lower stomach and onto his thighs. Still, when Derek closed his fingers around his own cock he found it slick and ready. He pressed his cock head against Charles’ tight opening. Usually he was on the bottom, and watching Charles brace his hands against the shower, legs spread while the 91

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water ran over his body, Derek found himself humbled. He slid his cock inside, inch by exquisite inch, until he stood buried balls-deep inside his lover. Both of them let out moans that mingled in the steamy air. Oh yeah, now it was his turn to return the tender care Charles had lavished on him, to bring his lover to the peak and then some before allowing him the same release. Curling his fingers around the base of Charles’ penis, he squeezed gently. “Don’t,” Charles breathed. “I want you to fuck me hard and fast.” “You’re not in control here,” Derek replied, a wry twist to his lips. “I am.” And he knew he was. Allowing himself to realize this, he thrust gently, enjoying the tight feel of Charles’ body taking over his cock, swallowing it. Derek gritted his teeth to keep from coming. He dared not take his hands off Charles to still his own pleasure. He tugged gently on Charles’ balls and the man jerked against him. Each slow, tender thrust was accompanied by the same stroking and fondling of Charles’ cock and balls. As if they had all the time in the world, as if the hot water wasn’t in danger of running out. Derek slid his cock into him, loving the feel of his hot, tight anus. He didn’t want to just fuck Charles. Derek wanted to make love to him. Even if he couldn’t say the words, he could show him how he felt. A tender session of sex might be just the balm needed when he told Charles he wanted to get his own place, some time alone to get back on his feet. His knee throbbed, reminding him he’d worked it too hard, but still Derek savored the feel of Charles’ body accepting his cock, of the warm, tight sheath he provided. He stroked and fondled Charles’ balls, wanting to memorize their heavy weight, the wrap of veins around his thick shaft and the plump, mushroom head. His lips ached to touch, to suck, and he leaned forward to lave open-mouthed kisses against Charles’ shoulders. Using painfully slow strokes, Derek worked him into an orgasm. Charles stiffened, shuddered, and warm jets of come shot over Derek’s fingers. The intimacy of the moment struck him. The water cooled and Derek reached forward to turn it off. He continued thrusting, loving the way Charles’ cock grew hard in his hands 92

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once more. His balls drew tight against his body and with a roar, he erupted into his lover’s body. Two more strokes with his fingers and Charles came again. Both men stood there, sweat slicking their bodies. The heavy sounds of their breathing echoed in the chamber. Closing his eyes, Derek promised himself he’d remember this moment.

***** Derek stood at the sink, looking out the tiny window into the yard where Molly and Charles exercised horses. A week had passed since Charles had tied him up, a week in which the doctor graduated him to a smaller knee brace but still forbade him to ride. A week in which he told Charles of his decision and true to form, Charles supported him, though Derek saw the pain in his lover’s eyes. He felt stronger, ready to face the world now even though the insurance adjustor still hadn’t come through with the money from his ruined farm. The mortgage people had started foreclosure proceedings. Was he making a mistake? Derek glanced back at the table with the paper spread out, several apartment ads noted with bold blue circles. He’d keep Dio and his other horses here, though he’d already sold one of the mares. Somehow he’d find a way to pay Charles for board and hay. He’d find a way to make things right. The phone rang. Derek’s stomach dropped. Someone from the insurance company? A bill collector, one of the many who had started to call Charles’ house? Perhaps someone returning the messages he’d left about apartments? He reached for the cordless phone and hit the talk button. “Hello,” he said. “Is this Derek?” A feminine voice on the other end sounded too chipper to be a bill collector. Derek released a sigh of relief. “That’s me.” For a moment he wondered if it might be the insurance company, if at last the check would come through and help him get out of the foreclosure situation.

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“I’m Anne Jones with Windgate Manor Properties. You called about an apartment.” Derek stepped back and sat down in a kitchen chair. The apartment. The one he wanted that was only a few miles from here, close enough that he could come and see his horses a few times a day. The apartment with paid utilities and a swimming pool that looked like a good place for starting fresh. “Are you calling about the application I faxed?” “Yes, I am. I’ve looked over your information and we do have an efficiency apartment available. You’ll have to move fast if you want it, I’ll need an answer shortly as these apartments are in high demand, and someone else has already come in seeking to rent it. If you can bring in your deposit and first month’s rent, we can fill out the paperwork.” Money. It always came down to money he needed, money he didn’t have, money he couldn’t earn. He still had his prize check in the bank, though he was trying not to spend it so he could pay Charles back for his generosity. Then again, what good was the money if he couldn’t use it to build a new life for himself? He glanced out the window. Charles rode Dio, easily sitting astride the big red gelding. On the other end of the phone the leasing agent chattered about the great amenities and some of the standard apartment rules. No pets. Derek held back a snort. He had his horses. What need did he have of a goldfish or hamster? “When do you think you’ll have your answer?” The leasing agent’s question pulled him from his musings. Derek swallowed hard. “Can you give me a couple of days? Maybe by the end of the week?” He closed his eyes and hoped Charles would give him the space he required. Just for a while, until he got his life back on track. “I look forward to hearing from you.” The leasing agent disconnected the call. Derek stared out the window at Charles. Perhaps once he did this, put his life back on an even footing, he’d be ready to return Charles’ love, not only with actions but also

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words. He hoped that was the case. Setting the phone down on the counter, he went outside to help cool down Dio and contemplate what his decision would be.

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Chapter Eight Friday loomed, an impossible deadline he couldn’t meet. Still debating whether to dig into his prize money or hold it for safekeeping, Derek chafed at the restraints still upon him. His leg itched behind the brace, the new skin growing over his burns pink and fresh. To be out in the arena riding Dio, side by side with Charles…Derek ached for it. The phone rang. Not the leasing agent again, he prayed, hoping that he could put her off a few more days. Why he delayed he didn’t know, except he loathed the thought of leaving the sanctuary of Charles’ farm. They’d made love several times over the past week, each time so tender Derek thought his heart might break. He picked up the phone. “Hello.” On the other end of the line, a male voice announced himself as an agent from the insurance company. Derek sank into a chair. “Mr. Whitten, I am pleased to inform you that the insurance company has finished its investigation into your barn fire. The Fire Marshal determined the official cause was faulty wiring, and because of his findings, we will overnight you a check for the full amount of your insurance policy.” Derek exhaled. He knew the check would be made out to him and the mortgage company. It would be just enough to pay off the mortgage and remove the worries from his mind. It would stop the foreclosure proceedings on the farm. His father’s condominium in California was already gone. Faulty wiring. The man’s words sank in, and for a moment he wondered if there was something he could have done. Maybe if he’d had the funds to renovate the barn like he’d wanted, or even called out an electrical contractor to take a look at things. But 96

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how was he to know the wires were going bad? The lights worked. He rarely blew fuses. All the cords were tucked away and he worked to control any pest problems that came with a barn and its storage of hay and grain. He’d done everything he could. And it hadn’t been enough to save his barn or Red. “Thank you,” Derek said. “I appreciate the news.” After verifying the address and exchanging a few more pleasantries, Derek hung up the phone. He sat there staring at the handset, and suddenly had a desire to visit his former home.

Charles wasn’t in the arena when Derek drove past. One of the freedoms he’d gained this past week was driving his truck with its peeled and bubbled paint. If Charles heard the truck, he didn’t come rushing out to find out where Derek was going as he had the first few times. It was a measure of trust, of growth on both their parts, Derek concluded, that Charles let him leave. His farm called to him to go home and decide what he wanted to do next. Even if his home and his barn lay in ashes, he wanted to be there to make the decision on the apartment. A cold knot of dread filled his gut at the prospect of facing the place where he’d lived for so long, where he nearly died. Derek shook his head. He had to go, if for no other reason than to say goodbye. He arrived at his farm, noting the scorch marks on the ground, the burnt fence posts and fencing. How the horses managed to stay in their paddocks he didn’t know, and he sent a silent prayer of thanks to the instinct that kept them away from the fire. His house was a total loss. The foundation still stood, as did three of the low brick walls around the base. The south side, with its large windows overlooking a lush, green pasture, had caved in during the fire, and now the charred beams, warped glass and broken, charred bricks lay in a pile. It had been his home for so long. Now it was only a pile of rubble. Yellow tape still roped off most of the damage. Derek stopped the truck. His breath caught in his throat as he stepped out. The tang of smoke no longer filled the air. He looked at the blackened pit and knew Charles had 97

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told him the truth when he said the entire house was a loss. Not even a charred trophy or ribbon survived. A fire safe containing important documents had been rescued, but that was all. He turned toward the barn. Loss hit him with the force of a two-by-four to the gut. Sucking in a harsh breath, he stared at the charred timbers that had once been his barn. The fence most of the way around the arena had burnt down, and trees that had offered shade along the back of the barn were little more than husks of their former selves. Derek stepped forward. He blinked back tears, realizing his farm really was gone. Completely and utterly gone. He stopped just outside the ruins of the barn, not even sure he wanted to go any farther. The sun emerged from behind a cloud. It seemed blasphemous that while he stood there looking at the ruins of his life, a perfect blue sky mocked him. A great day for riding, if the doctor would allow him to ride—and if he still had an arena to ride in. A sunbeam fell onto the ruins before him. Amid the charred rubble, something glinted. Derek stepped forward. Boards and ashes crunched beneath his booted feet, the smell of burnt lumber and hay nearly overwhelming. Glancing at the spot where he’d been pinned, he saw no signs that he or Red had ever been there. For a moment he wondered what happened to the body— another detail Charles must have taken care of for him—and he wrenched his thoughts away from the painful knowledge that he’d lain there, trapped beneath a beam while a horse in his care perished. His foot hit something metal. One spot, barely larger than a nickel, shone with the patina of age and use. Reaching down, he curled his fingers around the object and recognized the shape immediately. A horseshoe. He picked it up, brushing off the cinders, and knew this wasn’t just any horseshoe, but the one given to him by Charles. A sob caught in his throat. He pressed his lips to 98

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the sooty token. After all they’d been through, after everything Charles had done for him, this gift was the most precious. Worn and aged, it remained unharmed. A bit of polish, a good scrubbing and it would be as good as new. Derek wiped away the taste of soot with the back of his hand. Charles’ horseshoe had survived. Perhaps he and Charles could too. He glanced skyward but clouds had already drifted across the sun. One beam of light, and by chance he’d found the symbol of their relationship. Solid, steadfast, always there. Releasing a pent-up breath, Derek realized now the fool he had been. He thought he needed time alone, space to make decisions, but no—he needed to be with Charles. His lover offered him a home, a place to start fresh—and love. Hell yes, he’d accept. His last dying thought had been of Charles. He’d been a damn fool to even consider spending a second away from the man he loved. Determination filled him and he knew what he had to do. Turning on his heel, he hurried back to the truck.

***** So Derek truly planned to leave. Charles sat at the dining room table, a tumbler full of rum and Coke cradled in his hands. He drank nearly two-thirds of it and debated on getting a refill, only lighter on the Coke. He’d heard the message, had even dutifully written it down, the scratch of pen against paper and each word slicing his heart in two. If you want the apartment, call now. There were seven deadly sins, and those seven words seemed deadlier than all of them combined. The back door opened. Derek strode into the room holding a soot-covered horseshoe in his fingers. Smudges covered his shirt, his jeans, even his face. He’d been digging through the ruins of his barn and house. 99

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Tension ebbed from Charles. Derek hadn’t left him, he’d simply gone back to his home. And with one glance at the item in Derek’s hand, Charles was glad he had. Their horseshoe. He regretted not going after it, but he’d seen the barn during and after the fire. He didn’t think anything could have survived. He lifted his gaze from the horseshoe to Derek’s eyes, expecting to see an accusation. Instead, he saw love. Hope he’d dared not acknowledge blossomed inside him. Maybe that look meant he wasn’t leaving. The note sat on the table, damning evidence to the contrary, and Charles held his breath, half afraid to speak. “I hope I didn’t worry you,” Derek said. He pulled out a chair and sat down, grimacing at the dirty state of his clothing. Quickly, he toed off his boots. “I’ll clean that up later. I went to the farm.” Derek swallowed hard and placed the horseshoe on the table. “I found this.” Charles didn’t know what to say, didn’t know whether he was welcoming his lover back into his life for good or sending him on his way. Expelling a breath, he reached for the note and pushed it across the table. “I took this message for you,” he said. “You might want to look at it before you say anything further.” Derek stared at the note and recognized the ramifications of that sentence. “It’s okay,” he replied, placing the horseshoe on top of the note. A plume of soot fell from the metal and obscured the words. “I don’t think we need to worry about the apartment anymore.” “I wanted you to know. I want you to be able to make a choice.” Looking at Charles, Derek’s heart broke for him. In his eyes he saw hope, the belief that finally they might have their happy ending. And yet he radiated fear, concerned that the apartment and Derek’s freedom meant more than the offer of a home.

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Reaching across the table, Derek laid his grimy hand over Charles’. “I’ve made my choice. I love you. I don’t need an apartment. I don’t want an apartment. This,” he tapped the horseshoe with his free hand, “reminded me that we can weather anything. Yes, I’ll stay here. Yes, we can merge our farms. Yes, I love you. A hundred thousand yeses to everything.” Relief filled Charles’ face, followed quickly by joy. He turned his hand, tangling his fingers with Derek’s. “Are you sure?” He still sounded hesitant. “I don’t want to push you.” The desire to erase all his doubts propelled Derek to his feet. He stepped around the corner of the table, bringing Charles’ hand to his lips as he did so. He rained kisses over his knuckles then bent and scattered kisses over his lips, his cheeks, his chin. “Shhh,” Derek said between kisses. He pressed his lips firmly against Charles’, the kiss a pledge of his love, a symbol of their union. Derek reached for him, caressing his lover as if to imprint every inch of him on his mind. “I’m not going anywhere.” Charles grinned. “Yes you are. You’re going up to the bedroom.” He rose to his feet and pressed Derek against his body. “I love you, and I’m going to show you just how much.” “You have a deal,” Derek said, and then grinned. “Partner.”

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About the Author Mary Winter began writing when she was 16, using it as an excuse to skip gym class. She currently lives in Iowa with her pets and dreams of writing full-time. Her advice to anyone is: “Persistence pays off. Don’t ever give up on your dreams!”

Mary welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and email address on her author bio page at www.ellorascave.com.

Also by Mary Winter Ellora’s Cavemen: Dreams of the Oasis III anthology Ghost Redeemed Ghost Touch Once Upon a Prince anthology Pleasure Quest anthology Prodigal Son Revealing Photos Snowbound Water Lust

Discover for yourself why readers can’t get enough of the multiple award-winning publisher Ellora’s Cave. Whether you prefer e-books or paperbacks, be sure to visit EC on the web at www.ellorascave.com for an erotic reading experience that will leave you breathless.

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