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STILES SAT WITH the rest of the ranch hands and the new men that had come throughout the day after dinner. They listened to Savage go through the plans for the next day. He divided them into groups and announced that he’d be assigning each group to a specific station in the morning after breakfast. The group broke up and headed to bed. It was going to be an early day tomorrow and a long ride for many of them. Stiles headed for his bedroom. He washed up at the basin in his room and stretched out in the bed. He was asleep almost as soon as his head touched the pillow.
The next thing he heard was the sound of men and horses in the coral outside the big barn. Morning had come way too early. He dragged himself out of bed, found his way to the facilities, and poured cold water over his head to wake himself up. Five minutes later, he was dressed, Colt strapped to his leg, and in the kitchen. Lizzie handed him a steaming cup of coffee and nodded toward the sideboard where breakfast was laid out. He helped himself to eggs and bacon, then ate quickly.
He found Gus, Drew, Larry, and Savage in the coral. There were other men there as well. Some he knew. Some he didn’t. He mounted Sally and met the others in the yard.
“Gus, you and Larry take four men and head out to station two. Make sure the well is covered or filled in. Whatever it takes to keep anyone from bringing up any of that poison water. After you finish that, start moving the herd toward the north station.”
“Yes, sir, Mr. Savage.” Gus whipped the reins on his horse sharply to the left and thudded out of the yard.
Savage didn’t say a word, but Stiles could see the flush in his face as he watched the rest of the men follow after Gus.
“Pete, you go with Drew and the rest of the men. You should be at station three by sundown. Check over the herd there, and the well. Look for any signs that it’s been tampered with. Hemlock has an odor that you won’t forget once you smell it. Don’t let any of the animals near the water if you see any dead cattle, or until you’ve tested the water. Only taste a drop. It will taste bitter.”
That left Savage and Stiles in the yard with two young men not much more than eighteen or nineteen.
“Tony and Parker, I need both of you to stay here. Keep your eyes open all the time. We’re going to station one. We’ll be back here in the morning before we move on to catch up with the others.”
Stiles watched as both young men nodded and turned their horses toward the barn.
Lizzie came out of the house at that moment, two large bags in her hands. She hefted one to Savage and one to Stiles. “That should be enough food for a day or two. Be careful out there,” she said, staring up at Stiles.
The ride to station one took as long as Savage said it would. They spent little time in conversation, only stopping to water the horses along the trail.
The air was stifling. Stiles found himself wishing for a cool breeze. But when the wind did kick up, it was just as hot as the sun pounding down on them.
“Over there.” Savage pointed to a small copse of trees. “There’s a pond and we can rest. The horses can get a drink as well. You hold the horses back while I test the water for poison.”
Stiles couldn’t see any water. But he promised himself, if there was a water hole in there, he was dunking his head in up to his shoulders.
Savage handed his reins to Stiles, then went to the pond’s edge. Stiles was pleased to see there was a small body of water nestled beneath the shade of the trees. After Savage gave the okay, he led Sally to where she could drink her fill. Moving a little way from the horses, he removed his hat and shirt. Kneeling at the edge of the small pond, he dropped his face into the water. It wasn’t icy cold, but it wasn’t hot either. It felt wonderful to his overheated body. One more time, he dunked his head all the way under. Coming up, he threw his head back so his hair wouldn’t drip in his eyes. The heat of the day didn’t feel so oppressive now. Grabbing his hat and shirt, Stiles turned to come face to face with Savage Beare.
The steel gray of his eyes had turned black, like flint. He was breathing hard. Like he had been riding hard and fast for days. The look on his face made the bottom fall out of Stiles’ stomach and his knees go weak.
Hunger. He stared at Stiles, pure unadulterated lust pouring from him. Savage had suddenly dropped the façade of angry ranch foreman at his feet. The only thing that remained was his need. Stiles could see it in every inch of his body.
“Let’s go... now.” Savage turned and walked away.
Stiles was left stunned and out of breath and totally pissed off. Savage was already on his horse and flying across the grassy plain.
“What the hell was that about?” Stiles mumbled as he put his shirt back on. He mounted Sally. “And why the fuck did he just leave like that?” Whatever it was, Stiles had had enough of the mood changes. He was tired of the teasing looks and then being left to stare after Savage as he ran away.
Stiles followed behind Savage. He kept enough distance between them that conversation was impossible.
A building that didn’t look like much more than a small shack came into view at the edge of the horizon, and the sound of cattle mooing floated over the grass plains. The next rise in the trail and Stiles could see them. Several hundred head of cattle grazed in the valley below and to the left of the station one shack. Savage pulled his horse to a halt and relaxed in his saddle. Stiles watched as he looked over the herd and let the tension roll off him.
“I was half afraid we’d find more of them dead.” He nudged his horse and turned toward the shack.
Stiles noticed the well as they grew closer, and the water trough around it. Half a dozen cows leisurely drank, paying them no mind when they stopped their horses in the yard.
The two dismounted and approached the trough. Savage looked over the cattle and then went to the well.
“What are we looking for exactly?” Stiles asked. He wasn’t sure what the plant looked like that was being used to poison the water.
“It’s a tall scrawny plant with white flowers in clusters. It has purple blotches on the stems as well.”
Stiles looked around the trough and called out to Savage when he thought he found something. It turned out to be a weed but not hemlock.
“Just because we don’t see any plants doesn’t mean someone couldn’t have transported them here and dumped them in the well,” Stiles pointed out.
There was a bucket sitting on the porch. Savage grabbed it and walked to the well. He tied the bucket to a rope and lowered it down. Bringing it back up, he smelled the water, then stuck his hand in the bucket. He brought his fingers to his lips, looked at Stiles, and licked at the water dripping from his hand.
Stiles held his breath.
“It’s clean. No smell or taste that I can detect. If there is poison in the well, it’s not hemlock. The odor and bitter taste is very distinctive.”
The air rushed out of Stiles’ lungs.
There was a spout low on the west side of the well that fed into the long trough where the cattle came to drink. Dumping the well water from the bucket, Savage tested the water in the trough too. Same process. Same result. Clean. Both men let out a collective sigh of relief.
Now that they knew the water was okay and they were speaking again, the two decided to eat. Sitting in the shade of the porch, they quickly devoured the ham and biscuits Lizzie had packed. She’d also included a large slice of apple pie for each man.
The pie had gotten a little smashed in the saddlebag during the ride. Stiles didn’t care. They didn’t have any utensils, so Stiles used his fingers to eat the messy filling and crust, then licked the sticky remnants covering his hand.
“Damn it to hell.” Savage groaned as he spoke.
Stiles met the furious gaze on his face. “What exactly is your problem?”
“You.”
“Me?”
“Yes, you.”
“I have no idea what I’m doing that is making you so angry with me.” Stiles rubbed his fingers on his pants as he stared at Savage.
“You’re here,” Savage spread his arms wide. “You make me want things I shouldn’t want. Not again!”
Watching Savage walk away from him should have made Stiles angry, but it didn’t. His curiosity got the better of him and he followed after.
“What happened?” Stiles asked, and waited for Savage to face him.
Savage stood still and looked west toward the herd. It was moments before he spoke.
“It was years ago. Long before I came to Circle W Ranch.” His voice dropped. The next words were nearly a whisper. “Another job... another life. I knew I wasn’t like my brothers. They’d talk about whores they’d known, or women they found attractive and might consider settling down with. I just wasn’t interested. I wanted this.” He slowly turned to face Stiles. “A hard body, a shadow of an evening beard, strong hands to stroke firmly where I needed it.”
He stepped closer to Stiles and flattened his work-roughened hands against Stiles’ chest, feeling him through the material of his shirt. Then he pulled one hand away and wrapped it around Stiles’ neck.
Stiles could feel the calloused palm holding him still. Strong fingers stroked the tendons there, then grasped firmly and pulled Stiles forward.
It was a rough and dirty kiss. Stiles had experienced a few of them in his life, but nothing like this. It was more teeth than lips. More like Savage was eating him alive than attempting to get to know him. Devouring his soul by invading his mouth and conquering it with his tongue. Stiles knew in that instant that sex with Savage Beare would leave him sore and begging for more.
Hands filled with desperation pulled at Stiles’ muscles. They grasped and kneaded his flesh. It drew whimpers from deep within Stiles. They escaped his body and floated into the air. This wasn’t love making. This was totally maddening. Leaving Stiles needing... wanting something he’d never experienced before.
Savage spoke, but it was harsh, one-word commands. Stiles’ body hummed with excitement. “Inside.”
Stiles entered the shack, with Savage close behind him. Close enough to feel Savage’s body heat against his back.
“There.” Savage pointed to a small bed in the corner.
Stiles thought there was no way the two of them would fit on that bed. He needn’t have worried.
“Off.” Savage grabbed at Stiles’ belt and unbuttoned his pants. They dropped to the floor around Stiles’ ankles.
Savage turned Stiles toward the bed, bent him forward, and tore his underclothes away. His arse in the air, Stiles felt exposed and never so turned on in his life. He could hear Savage undoing his own pants. Heard the thud when they hit the wooden floor. Bracing himself for a rough intrusion, he willed his body to relax. Take it. Enjoy it.
“Damn.” Savage cursed and slapped Stiles’ left cheek.
It stung and raised gooseflesh all over Stiles’ exposed body. He waited for the next quick flash of pain. And waited. A gentle prodding with a slick finger at his entrance nearly brought him to his knees. It was unexpected—the tenderness. He should have known it wouldn’t last. Another stinging slap to his arse cheek let him know he was right. Savage made a game of pleasure and pain, and Stiles didn’t know which end was up. His mind cried out to adjust to the changing sensations. His body gave in and craved whatever came next.
The sweet attention didn’t last long. With one hard push, Savage was in him. The burning stretch brought tears to Stiles’ eyes. His mind was on the brink of completely leaving him. He was thankful the man didn’t ask him if he was all right. Because he was more than all right. And yet, some small part of him wanted to yell out for Savage to stop. He was bruised and being taken like he’d never been taken. He wouldn’t—couldn’t say the words.
One smooth, slow slide was quickly followed by several hard slams into Stiles’ willing body. He never knew what was coming next. When he didn’t think his body or mind could handle another thrust from the man using him like this, he lost it.
The orgasm shattered him into a million particles of light. His conscious state disappeared into its brilliance and Stiles faded away. Through the haze, Stiles was aware of Savage’s response. His voice was laced with loud curses, and then his body went stiff. Stiles could feel the heavy pulse inside his arse as Savage let go his own release. Then there was silence. No words. No movement. Nothing about this had been what Stiles had expected or had ever experienced. Savage brushed his lips over Stiles’ hip, and then he was... gone.
Stiles slumped against the bed. Exhaustion overwhelmed him. He lay there and must have dozed off because a noise from the doorway startled him. He rose only to see Savage’s back disappear through the door. He’d left a bucket and a clean rag beside the bed.
Smiling to himself, Stiles realized there would be no talking about what happened between them. No tender words or touches. Savage would go on just as he had. Stiles removed the evidence of what had happened with the water and rag, then redressed. A sudden memory of Paul Dewitt flashed across his mind.
Paul’s willing body wrapped around him as they kissed and touched. Sharing the moments after their joining and mutual passion was finished. They had shared lovemaking, not the animalistic fucking he’d just experienced. Would he ever feel that sweet connection that he’d shared with Paul again? Though he’d enjoyed what had passed between Savage and him, somehow it left a hollow feeling inside him. So he would take Savage’s lead, never speak about what had happened between them, and just leave it behind. It wasn’t as if they were going to be anything else than what they were: strangers who had fucked.