Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 87067 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 435(@200wpm)___ 348(@250wpm)___ 290(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87067 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 435(@200wpm)___ 348(@250wpm)___ 290(@300wpm)
Crawling on his hands and knees, JB inched toward the front of the truck, but he didn’t get far. Cole slammed him to the ground again.
“What the hell are you doing?” Cole demanded. He was blanketing JB, so he could feel every tense, hard muscle pressing into his back and ass. Cole’s breath gusted across JB’s sweaty neck, sending an unexpected chill up his spine. Yep, this was how he was gonna die. He was gonna get shot while being covered from head to toe by the sexiest straight man he’d ever met. Fuck my life.
JB twisted around, not giving a shit if Cole could feel his irrational hard-on pressed against his stomach. “I’m trying to fucking see who is shooting at us. But I can’t do that if you keep pushin’ me down in the dirt.”
“You’re going to get your head blown off!”
JB grinned a little maniacally at him. “Not if I’m being sneaky.”
“There’s no way you were an Army Ranger. You never would have survived acting like an idiot in the field.”
JB got right into Cole’s face, bumping their noses together. “I was a great Army Ranger,” he growled.
“Then fucking act like it! You’re going to get yourself killed.”
He smirked. “Awww…I had no idea you cared.”
And then Cole had to go and blow his mind by roughly grabbing the back of his neck and slamming his mouth over JB’s. He remained completely still for a heartbeat, his brain no longer functioning as it tried to process the fact that Cole was kissing him.
No. Cole was kissing the shit out of him.
JB relaxed in Cole’s grip and opened his mouth, instinctively deciding to relish every second before this bubble popped.
Instead of scaring him off, Cole deepened the kiss, turning it into the hungriest, dirtiest thing JB had ever experienced. Tongues tangled and slid against each other. Teeth clacked together as they tried to get closer, eating at each other’s mouths. God, Cole kissed like he meant to fuck his brains out through his mouth, and JB welcomed all of it. No one had ever kissed him like this. Nothing had ever felt so damn good, and it was only a kiss.
He didn’t know if it was the unconscious thrust of his hips into Cole, pressing his aching cock into the man, or the porn-worthy moan that burst from his throat, but Cole suddenly broke off the kiss. They hung there for a second, panting, eyes wide with shock but also still hungry for more.
“Don’t be stupid,” Cole admonished in a rough voice.
For a moment, JB could only think that stopping that kiss was clearly the stupidest thing they’d ever done, but then another shot rang out, reminding him why they were lying in the dirt behind a truck.
“Oh, I have a feeling we are going to have a loooong talk about what stupid looks like,” JB teased. Cole didn’t smile a bit, which really wasn’t surprising. The man didn’t appear to be all that steady, and JB didn’t think it all had to do with their mystery shooter. JB had a hell of a lot of questions for this straight man, but now was not the time.
Reluctantly crawling out from under Cole, JB placed his back to the front passenger side tire and carefully peered around the truck. The hot air was completely still. Not even the bugs were buzzing about, as if everything were holding its breath to see if JB would, in fact, get his fool head blown off. His eyes swept up and down the fence line, then followed the green rise into the Robertses’ field. When he finally spotted the shooter, he swore a blue streak.
“What? What do you see?” Cole demanded, edging closer to JB.
He didn’t answer Cole. Instead, he sucked in a deep breath and lifted his voice. “Mrs. Roberts, put your gun down!”
There was a moment of silence and then a soft, elderly voice replied, “JB?”
“Yeah, it’s me, Mrs. Roberts!” he shouted.
“Did I get them coyotes?” she called.
JB groaned and dropped his head against the tire. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Cole’s mouth hanging open. Yep. Welcome to Texas.
“There aren’t any coyotes, Mrs. Roberts. It’s just me and Cole working on the fence out here.” JB leaned over to make sure the old lady had the shotgun safely at her side before pushing to his feet.
Gladys Roberts stood on the small rise at least a hundred yards away, reminding him of Sophia from the Golden Girls except she was wearing a cheery blue flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up and a pair of blue jeans tucked into calf-high black rubber boots. Every time he saw her, he half expected her to say something like “Picture it. Austin, 1922…”
“Are you sure there are no coyotes? I swear I saw one trying to come through the fence.”