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

His hands claw at my shirt, my waist, and somehow he trips over his


own feet and pins me to the wall. I groan his name, shove him off


me, but he fingers my belt, my zipper, feels the hardness at my


groin, the erection that lingers from the few stolen moments with


Luke. In the darkness of the hall, Kent leans into my face, his


breath like a furnace along my skin. “Marcus,” he sighs, digging


into my crotch. He giggles drunkenly, presses me back against the


wall, his hips grinding into mine. “You little fox.”


“Kent?” I ask. Easing my hands between


us, I push against him but he doesn’t budge. Please don’t want


to fuck tonight,I pray. I don’t want him, I want Luke.


Please don’t, Kent, just please—he tries to kiss me but I


turn away, and his damp lips smear across my cheek as he laughs


breathlessly in my ear. I want to call out to Luke, I don’t want


Kent, please… “Baby?” I try, sidestepping away from him. “I


don’t think you’re really up for it tonight, you know? Maybe


Chapter 52