...Brody took the heavy lantern from Johnny’s loose grip and set it on the floor. His face was plunged into shadows. “I’ve missed you, boy.”

“I had to go. Start over again.”

“I know. You were right to go. But he had it coming. There’s nothing you could have done about that.”

“The judge wouldn’t have cared for that argument.”

“But we both know it’s true.”

“We do,” Johnny acknowledged. He felt each of Brody’s words. His breath was warm and a little sour from the whiskey. They were standing chest to chest, toe to toe, and Johnny had nowhere to go. He’d have to push Brody away if he wanted to move. “Is that why you’re going to South America?”

“Something like that. You know how it is. Things will catch up with you if you’re not paying attention.”

“Is somebody chasing you?”

“Nobody fast enough to catch me.”

“Do you need help?”

“No, I really did just come here to say good-bye. Talk about old times.”

“Talk?”

“I thought we might get a bit of talking in.”

He was even closer now. Johnny didn’t like to be crowded, and he really didn’t like it when Brody crowded him. Especially since he was so utterly aware that Brody was almost—almost—touching him. It was a move of domination. Brody wanted him to submit. Not out of a sense of cruelty. Brody had never been cruel to him. Johnny wouldn’t submit, but he would still make sure they both got what they wanted. He gripped the back of Brody’s neck, holding him in place for the hard kiss.

Brody responded with a grunt of satisfaction, his thick tongue pushing between Johnny’s lips. Fifteen years fell away, and he wrapped his arms around Brody out of habit. His mouth was big and rough, and his whiskers aggravated Johnny’s chin. He smelled like he had been traveling, and he held Johnny with strong hands. Hands that could break a person. It had been five years since he had seen Brody, but those years didn’t matter. Because he still knew exactly how to kiss Brody, still knew how to adjust to a taller partner, a partner who demanded more than he gave, a partner with broad shoulders and a whipcord body.

Brody’s prick was hard where it pressed against Johnny’s hip. For all Johnny knew, Brody had been hard since the moment he rode into town. Johnny’s body responded in kind, his cock straining against his pants. His hands moved on his own, sliding down Brody’s back to cup his ass. His fingers flexed, pulling Brody closer, grinding against his thigh, but that didn’t help relieve the pressure.

“We have to go back upstairs,” Johnny said, once he finally tore his mouth away.

“Like this?”

“It’ll be worse if we don’t go now.”

“What happened to you?”

“I got married.”

“You’re still holding on to the past.”

“Maybe that’s the problem.” Johnny shoved Brody away from him.

“No, I don’t think so. Not your problem, anyway.”

“Come on. You’ll feel better after you eat.”

“I feel fine now.”

Johnny didn’t. He picked up the lantern, and resolutely moved toward the stairs. He heard Brody behind him, his boots shuffling against the dirt floor—at least Brody was following him instead of daring Johnny to drag him out.

“Hey, Johnny?”

“What?”

Brody grabbed his shoulder and spun him around. Their mouths clashed once again, like it was already a foregone conclusion. Brody’s other hand went to Johnny’s wrist, gripping it so hard that he dropped the lantern. It clattered to the ground and rolled away. Johnny was dimly aware of the shadows moving in around them right before the wick snuffed out. Brody pushed him back until he felt the steps pressing to his calves.

“Brody…”