Marcus was just passing through Texas when he met Kent. In his cowboy hat, low-riding jeans, and black boots, Kent looks like the type of guy Marcus desperately wants to love.<br><br>But two years later, he's discovered Kent is cold and distant, the quintessential American cowboy, and spends more time drunk than sober. Marcus can never predict his mood and blames himself for the flailing relationship.<br><br>Then, one day when Kent rides into town, Marcus finds a young runaway hiding in their barn. Luke is warm, loving, and quick to please ... everything Kent is not. Though the answer seems obvious, Marcus finds himself torn between the boy who demands his love and the man whose love he craves.

Cowboy

He doesn’t like it when I call him that. He


says it always sounds like I’m whining, babe,like I’m


trying to wheedle something out of him. “Don’t start with me,


Marcus,” he says, weary. “I’m tired. I can’t keep it up all night


“All night?” I ask. Who’s he kidding?


We’re talking barely a half hour here. Is it so bad to not want


such a rush job? From my lover,no less?


morning,” he tells me as he heads down the hall to his room. When I


start to say something else, he holds up one hand to stop me. “A


showerhead, I know. I’ll pick it up.”


were a few minutes ago. My hand trails down my stomach almost


absently, heading for the erection that still stands up from the


patch of blonde hair at my crotch as if refusing to believe we’re


through. That’s it. And he called this dessert? Heh, this


was a spoonful of whipped cream, one strawberry, maybe a bite of


Chapter 7