Snowbound (3 page)

The cat, looking indeed like he wore four long white boots over the black fur on each leg, came hesitantly forward, sniffed Hayden's hand, then arched his back, holding his tail in the air. Hayden stroked his silky spine. "How old is he?"

"Three. Found him abandoned one winter as a kitten."

"He's gorgeous."

"Yeah."

Hayden stroked him some more before Boots wandered off to two dishes set near the heat vent and started to eat hungrily. Hayden resumed his meal.

"This is really good."

"Thanks."

"How long have you been a cop?"

"Four years."

"Are you from these parts?"

"Yeah, I was born here."

"Ever thought of leaving?"

Dylan raised one eyebrow. "Should I?"

"No, I just… wondered if you'd thought of working in a big city."

"Not really. I like it just fine here."

Hayden didn't really understand why he enjoyed living and working in the middle of nowhere but each to his own. Rock Springs was hardly the centre of the universe either. Perhaps the cop stayed here for someone else. The place might have looked like a bachelor pad but maybe he had a woman tucked away somewhere. Or a man.

He finished off his food. Dylan was already done with his. He poured them some more wine, then stood to take the dishes. Hayden automatically got up to help him. "Stay. Rest your leg."

Hayden did as he was told.

"Can you manage some dessert?"

"What've you got?"

"Homemade apple pie."

"Sure. Did you make it yourself?"

Dylan grinned endearingly. "No. One of the ladies in town made it for me." He reached a film-wrapped dish from the fridge and uncovered it. It already had one generous piece cut from it and he set about carving two more now, transferring them to bowls.

"A girlfriend?" Hayden asked trying to sound casual when the answer was all important.

Dylan laughed. "She's seventy-two with a blue rinse, a nice set of dentures, and pearls, what do you think?"

Hayden shrugged. "You might like the mature woman."

"Well, I don't. They make me things because they think being a single man that I don't look after myself properly."

Delight blossomed through Hayden's chest. "You look like you look after yourself very well," he said. Dylan turned to glance at him and caught Hayden's appraising eyes moving over his body, lingering on his ass. For a moment there was an embarrassed silence, their gazes locked.

Okay, he knows I'm hot for him.

The wine had let some of Hayden's inhibitions down. He didn't feel quite as mortified by this as he should have done. He only wanted to know if Dylan liked girls or boys.

"Do you want it hot, with cream?"

Hayden almost choked on his wine. He saw Dylan's eyes dance with amusement. "The pie."

"Oh, y-yeah."

Christ
. He wanted it hot with cream all right. Hayden locked his hands together on his lap, fidgeting, his cock half-hard. Dylan put a dish and spoon down before him and Hayden took a bite.

It was good, the apples spiced with cinnamon, the pastry melting and buttery. The cream was decadent on his tongue, rich and sensual. Hayden's head started to swim. The man opposite him was all sorts of wonderful rolled into one. Hayden wanted him the way he hadn't wanted a man in years.

Dylan stood and took their dishes when Hayden had done. "Coffee?"

"Please."

Dylan set the machine to brew. He rinsed dishes and stacked them in the dishwasher while he waited.

"Can I help you?"

"No. Go sit in the living room. I'll bring it in."

Hayden went into the living room. He took the seat nearest to the fire at one end of the couch and relaxed back. He was sleepy. The painkillers had kicked in, magnified by the wine and his leg felt just fine. Despite the fact he was miles from home, his car wrecked against a streetlight, sharing the home of the sexiest man he had ever met, Hayden felt peaceful.

Dylan joined him shortly. He sat at the opposite end of the couch from Hayden, an empty cushion between them, and placed a mug before him on the coffee table. "Thanks."

Dylan sipped from his own. "It's decaf. It won't keep you up."

Hayden
was
being kept up, no problem, but that was Dylan's fault. He shifted on the couch, adjusting his robe so it was looser at the front.

Was he obvious? Dylan didn't look. He got up, fished a remote from down the side of the other couch and flicked on the flat-screen TV. "Sometimes cable goes down in the snow." A noisy rock song filled the room before the image of a guy with black hair and black-rimmed eyes formed on the screen, yelling at the camera about how he wouldn't let life kick him down. "We're in luck." Dylan turned the sound down a bit but left the rock channel on.

"What music do you like?"

"This."

Dylan smiled. "A man after my own heart." He lifted his cup to his lips. His gaze held Hayden's steadily. In the silence between them, Hayden's heart seemed to beat in his ears, each squeeze of blood echoing within.

Dylan put his cup down. He shifted abruptly, taking the middle seat next to Hayden. Hayden's skin prickled. His cock stood rigidly to attention.

"So what else do you like to do when you're not pulling people's teeth out?" Dylan's tone was low and intimate. His voice swept across Hayden's needy skin like a caress. It was clear now that he could have Dylan if he wanted him, but Hayden was afraid, mortally terrified of giving into temptation after so long, of taking what he had always wanted.

He stammered. "I-I like t-to read."

"That's good." Dylan's hand lay on the couch inches away from Hayden's. "What's your favourite book?"

"I…
Birdsong
by Sebastian Faulks."

"I've read that. That's a good choice."

"What's yours?"

"I like
The Count of Monte Cristo
. I read it when I was little and it's lost none of its magic."

"Great book. Did you ever see Gérard Depardieu play him?"

"Yeah. I've got the DVD. Love that version."

To Hayden, this book discussion seemed like an elaborate form of foreplay. Talking about books aroused him further. His skin burned for touch. His cock leaked against the soft material of his pyjama pants.

"What else do you like?"

"I…" Hayden floundered. All sense had deserted his brain. His breathing came faster, his heart racing.

Dylan reached out a hand suddenly, swept his fingers down Hayden's cheek, causing him to flinch. "Do you want me to stop talking?"

Hayden nodded mutely while he stared into the golden eyes as Dylan leaned toward him.

The cop's lips were almost over his when Hayden said, "I'm married."

Dylan drew back a couple of inches, his face still intimately close, his hand still on Hayden's face. He spoke in a whisper. "I know." His other hand stroked over Hayden's wedding band. "If I said I didn't care right at this moment, does that make me a terrible person?"

Hayden couldn't speak. He closed his eyes as Dylan leaned closer again and pressed his mouth to his.

It was the first time he'd kissed a man. Dylan's lips were all melting softness, gentle sweetness, belying the strength of his muscular body. His fingertips slid to the back of Hayden's neck, stroking the short hair at his nape, fingering it lightly.

A moan spilled from Hayden's lips. He put a hand on Dylan's shoulder before moving it to his head, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss. Dylan took the hint. His tongue, feathering lightly over the inside of his mouth, was met by Hayden's own. The kiss turned from hesitation into explicit need. Dylan's thigh pressed against his. An arm slid around his back.

The kiss seemed to take all the oxygen from his lungs but Hayden didn't break it. He felt a hand on the front of his robe, pulling the belt open, revealing his hardness in the flimsy pants with ease, before fingertips eased under his T-shirt, up his back, smoothing over his spine.

Hayden shuddered at the touch. He kissed Dylan harder as the deputy's hand slid right to his neck and down again, to his waist, fingers inching beneath the elastic of his pants to play over the top of one buttock.

Hayden caught his breath. He couldn't get close enough to Dylan like this, seated side by side. He needed to touch and kiss him. Dylan gripped both buttocks suddenly, pulling him. "Sit on my lap."

The command had Hayden climbing in an instant. He straddled Dylan, leaning down to kiss him again. Dylan pushed the robe off his shoulders and let it drop to the ground. His hands ran greedily up Hayden's back, leaving flames in their wake. He pulled Hayden closer, rocking deliberately against him so Hayden felt the hard bulge in his jeans, pressing against his own.

He whimpered, lifting both arms obediently as Dylan yanked off his T-shirt. The cop buried his face instantly in Hayden's neck, dropping heated kisses, working down his torso, holding him by the hips as he teased at one nipple.

Hayden hissed in pleasure. A wet tongue laved his nipple, flicked against it before Dylan sucked it, bit lightly, blew on it, leaving it stiff and slick. Hayden bucked against him, rubbing his crotch against Dylan's chest, pushing down so the hard length pressed against his ass.

Oh God, he wasn't sure he had ever been this hot in his life. Dylan pulled back. He discarded his sweater and Hayden saw a chiselled torso complete with six pack. A black tattoo of a dragon completely covered his right bicep. He stared, hands trailing down Dylan's body, stroking, seeking.

Dylan breathed heavily. His fingertips nudged the waistband of Hayden's pants, where his hard cock threatened to rear over the top. His thumb stroked the head, leaving the thin material damp. Hayden couldn't have given away his desire any further. Dylan's hand moved down, fingers following the outline of Hayden's hard shaft until Hayden wanted to beg to be touched.

Dylan was taking his time, though. His lips sought Hayden's neck, kissing gently as he stroked through his pants. He found Hayden's balls and squeezed lightly, massaging them.

Hayden ground down on Dylan's erection. The solid feel of it against his ass excited him beyond belief, even with two layers of clothes separating them. He had never got this close to another man's cock before. He had never imagined one breaching his ass before as he did now.

Dylan's thumbs hooked under his waistband and pulled. Hayden's hard cock head sprang free, oozing at the tip. Dylan gave what sounded like a little growl. "Take these off." He started to push Hayden's pants down and Hayden helped him as far as his knees, when he stopped.

Dylan's gaze fixed on his. His hand moved down inside the pants, stroking Hayden's right leg. "Let me see," he whispered.

Hayden swallowed. For someone who never wore shorts, who only ever showed his leg to his wife, this was a big deal. Nonetheless, he climbed from Dylan's lap and dropped his pants, revealing his scar.

Dylan's glance flickered down a brief moment before he pulled Hayden back onto his lap. As he kissed him, his hand moved down Hayden's calf, stroking tenderly, tracing the scar with delicate fingertips.

Heat consumed Hayden. Dylan's touch and kiss was so measured and soothing, so full of passion and desire. It made Hayden feel what he had never felt before in his life—desirable. He was going to give in, he knew that. He was going to let Dylan do whatever he wanted and he was going to glory in it.

He popped the button open on Dylan's jeans and felt the hard bulge instantly pushing at the underwear beneath. His hand trembled as he drew down the zip. Dylan gasped as Hayden's fingers slid under his boxers to wrap around his hard shaft.

Oh God, just the feel of the smooth, heated flesh in his hand made Hayden's cock throb with the need for release, his balls aching. Dylan surged forward, kissing him hard, plundering his mouth with his tongue, gripping his buttocks hard to crush Hayden's straining cock against his belly.

Hayden rocked his hips, grinding himself, working Dylan's cock in his boxers, feeling it leak onto his hand. The sounds of their breathing mingled; gasps and groans punctuated their kisses.

Dylan pulled back. He stood, lifting Hayden in his arms in one swift movement and Hayden wrapped arms and legs around him, clinging as Dylan climbed the stairs, carrying him to bed.

Hayden had been a straight man all his life. He had never been able to indulge in the thrill of his lover carrying him to bed. And a thrill was exactly what it was.

Dylan carried him into a bedroom and laid him down on the bed. He flicked on the bedside light and opened the drawer by the bed, taking out a condom and a tube of something.

Hayden stared as Dylan pushed down his jeans and then his boxers, his hard cock springing free. He was a good length, thick and cut, his balls heavy, free of fuzz, his bush trimmed neatly. Hayden sometimes slyly looked at naked men and gay pornography on his computer, when the thoughts in his head became too much. Never had he seen a more perfect specimen than Dylan.

Dylan climbed on top of him. Hayden opened his legs around him and then they were naked cock to naked cock, rubbing, grinding, kissing, working themselves and each other into a frenzy.

Dylan's hand cupped his balls. His fingers slid beneath them, stroking his buttocks, seeking between them, sliding into his cleft. Hayden jerked and flinched as a finger touched his most private area.

Dylan didn't say anything. He opened the tube and squeezed clear liquid onto his hand. Then he put a wet finger back and stroked, pressing, teasing, wetting until Hayden opened up and took him.

Hayden hissed as the finger speared him. He gripped Dylan's wrist. "I haven't ever…"

Dylan regarded him a moment. "Not ever?"

"No."

"Do you want me to?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure."

Dylan kissed him. Hayden guessed it was a gay man's wet dream come true to find a straight, unbroken boy like him in his bed. Dylan would take away his virginity, ride an ass that would never be that tight again, but would feel like a perfect glove clenching his dick.