One thing that annoyed Deputy Sheriff Mitchell Bartlett were outsiders coming into his small corner of Wyoming and upsetting his routine. He didn’t count on a party-loving rock star to complicate his life.
After borrowing a luxury cabin from a fellow celebrity, Drago Denison dragged his partygoers into the wilds of Southwestern Wyoming for a debauched weekend. When Mitchell shows up at his door due to a complaint about the noise, Drago is stunned by the enticing vision of rugged, handsome male standing before him.
The men are attracted to each other, and they agree to one weekend of passion before returning to their own lives. How can two men from different lifestyles find common ground and accept how they feel? Or will the deputy and the rock star deny true love?
Be Warned: m/m sex
Drago turned to face Mitchell, who stood, legs apart, his hands formed into fists, clenching and unclenching in irritation. He looked angry, horny, and confused. An ass kicking could still be a real possibility here. Nothing straight guys hated worse than having a reaction to another man. Freaked them the fuck out. Drago always believed everyone was bi-sexual deep down, they just didn’t know it, or refused to accept it. He embraced his sexuality at an early age. Women, men, multiple partners. He liked women and men about the same, though at this moment, he was firmly on Team Mitchell.
“Is this the part where you stomp the shit out of me to prove you’re a man, and to prove your reaction to me was just an anomaly?”
The right corner of Mitchell’s sexy mouth quirked in amusement. It didn’t last, the tense look returned.
“Is that what happens next?”
Drago clasped his hands behind his back to keep them from shaking. Not sure if fear or lust had them trembling. Maybe both.
“Usually. I have a fine-tuned radar when it comes to vibes, and I got them from you, or I never would have suggested anything. Do you deny the sparks between us? Would that make you feel better? Here’s your opportunity to walk away. Chalk it up to the degenerate rock star who possesses the morals of an alley cat, and let it go. Go back to your staid life and forget this. I already have enough of a mess to clean up here, adding blood and teeth to the equation doesn’t appeal.”
Mitchell took a couple of steps toward the door then stopped. Head down, he seemed to be struggling with what to do next.
“Or you can spend the weekend here, with me,” Drago said, keeping his voice gentle and coaxing. “There is enough food here to feed twenty people, but as you see, they’re gone. I kicked them the hell out. Take some time, think about it. Come back for supper. I can cook.”
Mitchell didn’t speak nor move.
“Have you ever been with a man?” Drago asked, his voice quiet and respectful.
“I’ll take that silence as a yes. I’m guessing it happened when you were young, experimenting, it happens, and more than you know. I can show you such pleasure. There’s nothing wrong in what you’re feeling. Take some time to think about it. You decide. Supper is at six. If you don’t show up, I’ll have my answer.”
Mitchell opened the door, walked out and slammed it behind him.
Drago snorted. So much for that.