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

lips on my ear, one hand on my stomach, the other on my cock. I


can’t breathe with him this close—if I ever got the courage to take


him up on his offer, I don’t know how I’d go through with it, I’d


die to see him stretched out before me, naked, glorious,


mine.But he’s persistent, and his tongue licks out to taste


me, his lips close over my earlobe, and he asks, “When’s the last


it, though, Luke already knows—in the way my hands shake and my


lower lip trembles as he kisses me. “You want me to,” he sighs.


It takes another three beers to put Kent out.


We’re in the living room, all three of us, the TV on and Kent in


his recliner, his chin drooping to his chest every so often. Luke


sits at one end of the couch and I’m at the other, his pillow


between us like a line of demarcation neither wants to cross. Not


Chapter 35