The Heart of Texas (10 page)

Chapter 20

They slipped into a routine as Mr and Mr Campbell-Hayes. Riley spent his days at Hayes Oil, and Jack spent his at the D. Early mornings and late evenings, they came together at the Hayes Mansion, having breakfasts and dinners in the simmering cauldron of bitterness that was the Hayes family.

Jack had simply nodded when Riley explained the bruised face. Well, not explained exactly, but waved it away. He mumbled something about Steve and a fight, and Jack didn't pry. Riley took to pulling his hair across the cut to hide it from curious eyes, and luckily none of the paparazzi shots showed anything other than Riley relaxed and at ease with his smiling husband.

Articles came and went, and within a week, the story had been mostly forgotten. It didn't seem to matter how rich Riley was, or how much of a ladies' man he had been before. Somehow it seemed like the marriage was controversial, but acceptable. Money obviously did buy a lot of things in Jack's opinion, including the influence to stop printing stories, the responsibility for which he laid squarely at Gerald's door. Gerald, who refused to look at him let alone talk to him, which was really very okay with him.

Twice they revisited Shooters, and twice, Jack felt public PDAs were necessary. Twice he almost lost it by dragging Riley in for more. It was becoming increasingly difficult for Jack to remember he hated the man. They held hands in the house, kissed in the house, always the show, always when an audience was close, but when the doors shut on the world outside, that was the end of it.

* * * *

Down time meant Jack lost on his laptop, calculating feed and finances, planning visits for breeders and riders keen on Solo-Col's foal, and Riley idly doodling in his journal.

If Jack saw what Riley doodled, what his husband's brain was thinking up, then he may well have wondered what exactly Riley was doing with this whole fair-percentage, arranged marriage thing. Riley's plans were complex, a company of his own —an ethical land exploration company— away from Hayes Oil. Each night the journal was locked away in the safe in the apartment, testament to Riley's reluctance to share his thoughts with the world just yet.

* * * *

The Saturday of the party had been and gone. It was an event Jack listed as yet another facet to his husband's complex, and sometimes bizarre, personality. Riley had relaxed, easy given the only Hayeses in attendance besides him, were Riley's nephew, Luke, as spoiled as any seven-year-old could be, his sister Annabelle, Lisa, and Eden. Add in twenty or so other children, ice cream, and a bouncy castle, and it was hyper Riley at his best.

And then there was tonight.

The first real function they were attending as a married couple, some annual fundraiser for a charity Jack had never heard of. Still, he had agreed to all of this in the contract. So, donning black tie, he was pacing the apartment waiting on Riley who, yet again, was getting changed in the bathroom. Jack laughed to himself. If Riley knew Jack watched him when he slept, he would probably freak, given that, when he was awake he covered everything. Jack spent many lust-filled minutes staring at exposed skin when Riley's sleep T-shirt pulled up. Last night he'd even contemplated leaning forward and tasting the younger man, and that was something that would certainly worry Riley.

"Come on, man." Jack really hated being late; it was a pet peeve of his, and he could feel his irritation rising, only to completely disappear when Riley came out of the bathroom. Every molecule of oxygen was sucked from Jack in a flash.
Jeez, holy hell on a stick.
Six-four of Riley, with his hair brushed back, his face smooth of stubble, the tux.
Jeez, the tux.
It molded every muscle and every inch of his broad shoulders and was enough to tempt a saint. Riley paused outside the bathroom, the intensity of Jack's gaze obviously unsettling him, causing him to glance back over his shoulder to check if there was someone behind him.

"Erm—" Riley began, a blush rising on his cheeks, his hand going to his hair to pull it forward over his face. Jack was there in an instant, catching the hand midway.

"Leave the hair, Het-boy," he managed to force out. "Let's go."

* * * *

The journey was made in an uncomfortable silence, Riley driving, and both men lost in their own thoughts as they headed straight to the center of Dallas. The skyline was closer, the buildings taller, and the apprehension in both men darker and persistent.

When they reached the venue, they left the car with the valet, and the next five minutes was a blur of holding hands, exchanging small demonstrative kisses and accepting congratulations from TV and tabloid journalists alike.

It was a sit-down four course dinner, but there was a lot of standing around time, which meant guests could mingle as much as they wanted. This ended up with Riley mingling, and Jack doing the whole hanging 'round the drinks area shuffle.

When dinner was finally served, Riley was seated next to his husband, watching as he picked at the plate before him.

"Jack," he whispered, leaning in close, "aren't you hungry?"

"Yeah, but I'll wait until the meat arrives," Jack replied, just as softly.

"Jack, the salad
is
the main course. Look, it's huge. Seriously, there's no meat coming." There was a shot of amusement in his words.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me. You're joking, right?" Jack looked horrified, which only added to Riley's amusement levels.

"Hardly. You don't need meat at every meal," Riley offered, forking another bite of salad into his mouth and inwardly agreeing with Jack that it was certainly lacking something.

Jack was quiet for all of ten seconds, and then he couldn't hold in his opinion one second more. "Are you really a Texan? I mean, really? Riley, if I have a headache, I'd put bacon around an aspirin before I take it."

Riley just smirked and shook his head, distracted by a conversation to the left. This left Jack to pick morosely through the salad leaves and unidentifiable chunks of vegetable swimming in some kind of oil. Riley was almost sure he heard a muttered; "We better stop at McDonalds on the way back to the apartment."

* * * *

Dinner finally over, they separated. Jack back to the drinks, nursing his second whisky that evening, and watching Riley making the rounds as was expected of him. Watching and growing more and more irritated at the simpering women falling all over
his
husband, touching
his
husband's body, his hair, like he was some sort of prime rib at a barbecue. Not only that, but the bastard seemed to be enjoying it if his open smile was anything to go by, and he wasn't exactly pushing them away. The itch of irritation grew and twisted until finally enough was enough. The final straw was seeing Rachel Adams, an ex of Riley's, drape herself around him, signaling in no uncertain terms that she was clearly interested in some kind of reunion. Eyes narrowed, Jack watched her brush against
his property
, her hands low on Riley's crotch.

That was it. In a few quick strides, he was at Riley's side, cutting in between Rachel, vacuous blonde number four, and simpering brunette number three. Smoothly separating Riley from their clutches with a polite "Excuse me", he guided his husband out of the main room and into the darkened corridor before Riley could protest.

* * * *

Jack paced, and Riley stood. Jack fumed, and Riley waited.

Finally Riley said what he thought Jack probably needed to hear, some kind of defense of what he'd allowed to happen. "I was just—"

He didn't get to finish. Jack crowded him against the wall, and
shit,
Riley was getting tired of being pushed around like this. Jack made him feel like some kind of naughty kid, and damn if it wasn't riling him to the point of losing it here and now. Then Jack's hand went south as quick as he could say
Holy shit,
and everything changed.

* * * *

Unerringly locating Riley's dick in his loose dress pants, Jack grabbed it forcefully and leaned close to Riley's ear, hearing the quick indrawn breath from his husband. A spark of lust flashed through his own body as he contemplated what to do next. Finally he decided. He was tired of all the pussy-footing around, and the darkness of the hallway invited sin. He moved his hand on Riley's hard dick, listening to the groan in Riley's throat.

"Riley, you know who this belongs to? This belongs to me." He gentled the touch, twisting his hand. "I saw you flirting and sharing with those girls out there, and I'm telling you now, I don't share. No one else gets to see this. No one else gets to touch it. No one else gets to taste it. Just me. It's mine for one
whole
year, and I have the contract to prove it."

Riley tried to form a reply as Jack moved his hand again. It was good to see the other man speechless for once.

"Don't worry though,
husband.
I'm gonna treat it so good. I've decided that I'm gonna make it,
and you,
feel so damn good you'll never look at another woman again. You only have to say the word, and I'll show you what you signed up for." His voice fell into a heated whisper, the words low and drawled. "Now do we need to get out of here? I'm thinking I might need to take you home and show you who you belong to." Riley's eyes widened, his dick fully hard, iron in Jack's clever hands. "I can make you scream. You wouldn't even know your name when I finished with you."

"Jack—please." Riley's voice was broken. Everything Jack wanted to hear.

"Please?"

Riley blinked, unconsciously pushing his groin into Jack's hold. Jack knew what followed next was certainly not a decision Riley made with his upstairs brain. "Fuck, Jack. Let's get the hell out of here."

They took the back door and were in the car within the space of minutes, neither saying anything. Jack was so fucking hard, knowing Riley was just as hot for this.

They only made it halfway home. Riley pulled off the road into an empty parking area. The engine was silent for mere seconds before Jack was there, pulling Riley away from the wheel and pushing him down as fast as he could. His lips were stealing kisses. The taste of his husband was intoxicating, and he bit into soft flesh. The touches were uncoordinated, desperate, like nothing Jack had ever experienced before. Jack's hands were at Riley's dress slacks, ripping at the zipper and button, encouraging Riley to lift his hips.

It was messy, and it was fast and clumsy. Hands were replaced with his mouth, and in the quickest movement Jack had ever made on a lover, he closed his mouth over the tip of Riley’s hard dick, swirling his tongue and then impatiently swallowing him deeper. He used his work-roughened hands, alternating between jacking him off in the space between his mouth and the curls at the base of Riley's sex, and moving to cup his balls, gently, then more firmly. Jack was almost coming himself, just at the intense needy noises leaving Riley's mouth, his hands flailing to catch hold of something, anything, before gripping Jack's short hair.

Two weeks of lust that had built inside them, two weeks of teasing and unrestrained touching were enough to have orgasm curling at the base of Jack's spine. His fingers brushed Riley, at the tight ring of muscle, and it was all too much for his husband. Fisting his hands tighter in Jack's hair, Riley arched and was coming fast and uncontrolled. Jack swallowed and tasted, releasing the tight suction of his mouth with little finesse. He tugged his own slacks open, wet slick hands jacking himself off and his shadowed form curling into Riley as ropes of cum decorated his hand and Riley's jacket.

Jack brought his cum-covered hand up to Riley's mouth, pushing the spider web of white inside on shaking fingers and leaning for an open kiss. The taste and texture of his cum was mixed with the taste of Riley's skin. It was lust, it was need, and it was heaven. Breathing heavily, Jack heaved himself up and away, leaning against the opposite side of the car. Riley was lying immobile, his face stony in shock.

Fuck
, Jack thought,
so much for no sex for a year.

Chapter 21

Jack didn't know what to say. He really had no idea that his teasing and prodding and then the whole grabbing his husband's dick would end with possibly the hottest, most intense, sexual experience of his life. He blinked steadily at Riley, who was way over on the other side of the car, pressed against the door, silent and still, shock carved onto his features. The tension in the space was palpable, and Jack imagined Riley's heart was beating the same frantic rhythm as his. He watched in fascination as Riley wiped the back of his hand across his mouth, looking down at it as if he could see evidence of what Jack had just done, of what
they
had just done.

"You're not gay," Jack said, quite proud of his achievement in stringing together those three words. Riley said nothing at first, just blinked steadily.

Finally Riley simply said, "I pulled the car over." Like that explanation was enough to explain why he wasn't running for the hills, screaming.

"Then your dick was more than a little interested in a little man-on-man action," Jack pointed out, wincing as he spoke and at the frown growing on Riley's face.

"I've been with other men before," Riley frowned.

"Yeah, just not with ones you blackmailed into marriage."

"This is serious," Riley snapped. "It's clear I'm obviously having some sort of no sex rule breakdown."

"After two weeks?" Jack snorted, despite the fact that he'd been feeling the effect as well.

"More like three," Riley replied thoughtfully. Jack looked over at a half dressed Riley, his shirt pulled high, laid out in front of him, and he cursed that he wanted to lean over and taste more. He was the instigator here, his damn pride demanding he determine if Riley was okay with this.

"So let me get this straight," he said. "You've gone without sex for three whole weeks, and it has, all of a sudden, overnight, turned you gay for me?"

As he spoke he straightened his clothes and moved to his knees to loom over the man, trapping him against the door. He could smell Riley, the smell of his cologne, the smell of arousal, the smell of sex, and he leaned in until his lips were mere fractions of an inch from sun darkened skin stretched across high cheekbones, his breath hot against that skin. He didn't say anything, just hovered, waiting— hesitating.

Outside, the dry storm that had been threatening all day, broke with startling brilliance. A shaft of lightning tore the air in two outside the SUV, illuminating hazel eyes and showing a flash of desire previously hidden in their depths. The lightning startled both men, and Riley moved subtly so that Jack's lips touched skin.

He could feel Riley's whole body shudder and hear the neediness in the small unconscious noise that originated in Riley's throat, and Jack couldn't help himself. Slowly, he traced small open-mouthed kisses on Riley's face, across the cheekbones, feathering across eyelids that closed against the touch, and down to soft lips that parted on a sigh. Jack slanted his mouth, the touch of tongues sliding, teeth nipping and tugging at full lips, his dick hard and ready for round two. He wanted so much of this man, and it didn't seem to matter to his sexual self that part of it still felt wrong. Gently he eased back, needing to say something.

The lightning flashed around the car and lit up the uncertainty in Riley's eyes. Jack sighed, resting his forehead against Riley's. This was a man who had blackmailed him, made him believe he had no option but to marry him, for reasons that, to Jack, made no sense. How was it that the feelings inside him were all about lust and need when they should have been about hate and revenge?

"We need to talk," Jack said. "We can work this out. You're not gay. We'll get a second bed and look after the apartment ourselves. We can chalk this up to a bad night. I can keep my hands off you. This was you and alcohol, nothing more."

"I didn't drink anything," Riley replied quietly. Was that disappointment in those gentle words? It certainly sounded like it.

"But
I
did, and I clearly took advantage of you." Jack started to move back, but Riley grabbed at his arm to stop him.

* * * *

Riley looked down at himself, at two hundred twenty pound of muscle and more than average height and then over to Jack, who despite being solid as a rock and only five inches shorter, was probably an even physical match to Riley.

"I'm not some fainting virgin, not some tiny girl that you have
forced
yourself on. Believe me, cowboy, if I hadn't wanted it, then you wouldn't have gotten it." Riley finished the sentence with steel determination in his voice.

"Riley," Jack sighed again, "I haven't felt enough lust to touch and take like that since I was a horny sixteen-year-old and tryin' to get into Mike Hollister's pants."

"And your point is?" Riley was trying to stay calm even as he released Jack's arm and let the man slide back down into his seat.

"Like I said, we need to talk."

"Let's go home then— to talk." Riley added the last bit on the end, thinking
friends with benefits
in his head, his dick hard in the twisted material of his pants and his breathing shallow. Pulling the material together, he fastened the fly and turned back to the wheel, sliding on his belt and starting the engine. He looked back over his shoulder at the road behind them, ready to pull out.

"Riley, the storm," Jack said suddenly. "I really need to check on the horses. Can we maybe talk at the D?"

Riley's heart twisted at that, the suddenness with which he thought that was a good idea overwhelming him. Just to stand in the scarred kitchen, watching Donna bake, watching Beth tease her brother was like some kind of 1950's sitcom, surreal and warm.

"Yeah," Riley agreed, and U-turned away from the Hayes mausoleum and towards the D. It felt good to just be driving, his skin prickling from the electricity in the air, his head full to bursting with what had just happened. That he'd let Jack do that —take him to the edge and over it— surprised him. The loss of control was bewildering and new.

Jack was clearly as lost in thought as he was, and neither said a word. Anticipation thrummed in Riley's veins as they neared the D, and he was so deep in thought considering what had happened, that he only just managed to swerve to avoid a dark SUV barreling down the center of the road. He cursed viciously, slandering the parentage of the out-of-towners, and caught sight of the smile that curved Jack's mouth.

* * * *

They turned onto the D, the same pride washing over Jack as they passed under the curved D's and began the mile trek to the main house, the plush SUV cushioning them from most of the potholes. Jack stretched each muscle, thinking on the horses in the barns and how they might be reacting to the electrical disturbance of the intense storm. Solo-Cal was only a week away from foaling, just one run of seven days, and he knew his baby was restless in storms. He hoped Riley would understand if he suggested he had to sleep in there with them tonight.

The flicker on the horizon as the dark buildings loomed in front of them was nothing more than a reflection of lightning. Jack was sure of it, until it grew stronger, orange, steadier against the dark sky, and suddenly dread stabbed him like a knife.

Before Riley had even stopped the car, Jack was out, screaming against the wind and the heat, "Call 911 and get Mom and Beth out of the house!"

The main horse barn was on fire.

The blaze was a living, breathing thing, climbing wood, destroying feed, and devouring everything in its path. Jack didn't hesitate. Even though it would fuel the flames, he threw the big doors wide and raced from stall to stall, releasing the horses so they could stampede to safety. The fire had started two-thirds of the way inside the barn and was already spreading up into the hayloft. It was also blocking his way to the last two horses. His precious brood-mares. Jack dove through the conflagration. Solo-Cal and Taylor-Wood were rearing in their stalls, fear in their whinnies, fire reflecting in their wide staring eyes.

He needed to get his babies out. Dodging debris that hissed and spat, he pulled off his shirt and wrapped it around Taylor's head, blindfolding her. The mare's panic eased a little, enough for him to loop a rope over her neck and lead her out of the stall. Then Riley was skidding to a halt next to him, gauging the situation and pulling off his own shirt, covering Solo's eyes as best he could.

The only way out was through the main doors no more than forty feet away, but that meant through the barrier of flames and smoke. Crooning to the shaking mare, Jack coaxed her into a trot and ran with her, holding his breath as they passed through the blaze. He could hear Riley and Solo behind him, the mare squealing as wisps of burning straw landed on her. They were almost there. So very close. Part of the upper floor cracked and split and tumbled behind them, and they were out.

With a final effort, Jack managed to guide Taylor well away from the fire and to the far fence, turning back to see Riley leading Solo out after them. He shared a grin of success with his husband, who raised a hand in salute. The shirt slipped from Solo's eyes, and the horse bucked in fear, twisting in terror of the flames. Unable to shout over the noise of the fire and the storm, Jack knew he would never reach Riley in time. All he could do was watch as Solo spun on her heels, forcing Riley to leap back. Beth was there as well, reaching up to snag a rope about the mare's neck. Solo lashed out, her hooves narrowly missing Beth.

Riley pushed between the horse and the girl, thrusting Beth aside as Solo's hooves plunged towards them again. Beth fell and rolled to safety under the bottom rail, but Riley was crushed brutally against the white fence before Solo lunged away to join the other horses milling in the drive.

Distantly aware that Beth and his mom were herding the horses into the paddock farthest from the blaze, Jack dashed to Riley's side. He was unconscious, blood frothing at his mouth. A lung was surely pierced.

Thunder exploded over their heads, and the rain fell in a blinding sheet. It was chaos, the fire department arriving as the last flames were flickering and dying in the rain, the paramedics lifting Riley into the ambulance, and the lights flashing randomly in the inky blackness of the night.

The fire department waited, damping down what was left of the barn. The lightning damage had been so instant, so complete, so devastating, that there was only a twisting shell of black wood standing as testament to the stables Jack's grandfather had built. They muttered that the storm had been a blessing as well as a curse. It may have started the fire, but even as the flames had reached destructive arms for the main house, the rain had extinguished them.