Casa knew where they would go even before Jason headed for the narrow riding gate into the Forest Service land. The other man managed the gate without getting down, and started up the trail to a high ridge that overlooked the ranch. Casa let Jason set the pace and held his own mount back a couple of lengths to give his boss some space. That also let him watch and appreciate the easy way Jason sat in his saddle, his calm and skilled control of the restive horse, and his special kind of masculine good looks, which seemed to Casa the epitome of a real westerner.

Before long he had to shift in his saddle to take the pressure off a growing erection. The visions that flooded his mind became almost too strong to control. He’d never wanted anything or anyone quite as badly as he now wanted Jason, off limits or not. Something was going to have to give and soon. As much as he’d hate to leave, he might have to. You couldn’t get a lot of work down with a hard-on that just wouldn’t go away!

By the time they reached the customary stopping place on the ridge, Casa wasn’t sure whether to get down or not. Jason, apparently not troubled by similar issues, swung down from the bay. Casa’s breath caught when the other man’s leg wobbled a little as it took his weight when he kicked free and swung down. He held his breath until Jason got his left foot out of the stirrup and down, holding tightly to the saddle in the meantime. Whew. Damn it, don’t scare me like that.

Once on the ground, Jason turned to look Casa’s direction. “Aren’t you getting down?”

Busted. Oh, shit. Casa gave in to allow a shit-eating grin. “Sure, just caught me day dreaming here.” A bit more gingerly than normal, he swung from the saddle, trying to will his cock into submission. He wasn’t sure how much longer the buttons of his Levis were going to stand the strain. There was no hiding his condition. Jason looked at him, a slow smile building on his rugged face. “Looks like you have a major problem there, Casa. Do we need to take care of it?”

Casa gulped. No use trying to pretend or dissemble. The evidence stood out bold as a branding iron. He nodded. Even as the flush of embarrassment heated his face, he could not tear his gaze away from Jason’s. A sparkle danced in the other man’s keen hazel eyes while a grin twitched his mobile lips. Then he reached to rub a hand down the fly of his own jeans. Casa followed the motion with his eyes and saw to his surprise that Jason also sported a woody of proud proportions.

He gulped again. Maybe what he’d sensed the other day had been real, no beer-fueled fluke, much less wishful thinking. Had it just hit Jason lately or had he also nursed a carefully concealed secret for awhile too?

The dun trailing obediently until dropped reins ground-tied him, Casa headed toward Jason, drawn as surely as a thirsty steer scenting water. The brims of their hats bumped as they moved together, wrapping arms around each other’s bodies. Casa’s gray Stetson fell to one side. Jason angled his head to allow Casa beneath his hat an instant before their mouths came together.

As kisses went, it rated right up there at the top, hot and wet, full of electric energy and starved-for-a-week hunger. Shaking and spectacular as it was, though, Casa wanted more. A hell of a lot more. He could feel his prick straining, shoving against the matching bulge of Jason’s as they held each other. Denim and leather masked too much sensation, created an intolerable barrier. They had to do something, do it fast, do it now.