Down and Dirty (Down Home #2)

by Parker St. John

Sex was better, but that wasn’t an option in a crowd like this. Nobody was completely out on the circuit, not even Lane, and he’d learned long ago not to tangle with men who weren't sure where they sat on the Kinsey scale.

“About the only two things I know in this life are bulls… and you.”

Sometimes it seemed like they were meant to be one person. Skylar had been gifted with a spirit that was good and noble and kind, and Lane was made up of the rough, leftover pieces.

He needed this. He needed blood and chaos. Sometimes it felt like he’d die from needing it, and there were no bulls for him to slam himself against here.

Like a marionette with iron strings, Denver acted out the role he thought his best friend would have taken in the world, and Lane was helpless to cut him free.

It was torture, being so close to everything he’d always wanted and yet knowing it would never happen. The feelings between them were real; Lane had never doubted that. But they had missed their chance. The moment in time when something more could have thrived between them was already gone.

"We can stop." It broke Lane's heart to even suggest it, but he’d cut his own throat before bringing any more pain to this man. He couldn’t stay, and he couldn’t live with himself if he left more heartache behind when he hit the road.

What Lane had said was true; Denver didn't need anyone watching his back. He was that good. But that didn't mean he didn't deserve it anyway.