Free Finding Home (Finding Series, Book 1) by Sloane Kennedy

was supposed to have been the first step in his plan to distance himself from the two men that were wreaking havoc on his senses, but apparently the other man hadn’t gotten the message. Rhys’ back was to the door so he had to glance over his shoulder to see the slumped form standing next to the bed.
    “Finn-” he began, steeling himself to send the man away.
    “Please, Rhys,” he heard Finn whisper brokenly. “I just need to sleep,” he said, his voice pleading.
    Rhys tried to stiffen his resolve, but an image of Finn smiling at him when he’d picked him up in the truck that first day went through his head. Rhys pulled the covers back and Finn went around to the other side of the bed and crawled in, putting his back to Rhys. It wasn’t a big bed, but Finn pressed himself up along the edge of the mattress, putting as much distance between him and Rhys as he could and Rhys wondered if he did it because that was what he wanted or it was because he thought it was what Rhys wanted.
    Rhys let out a soft curse, then reached out his arm and grabbed Finn by the waist and dragged him back against his chest. Finn gasped as Rhys’ thickening cock settled against his ass, the thin fabric of Finn’s pajama bottoms and Rhys’ briefs doing little to inhibit the contact. He felt Finn’s hand close over his own. God, it would be so easy to roll Finn on his back and take him. He knew from the heavy breathing and tight body pressed against his that Finn wanted him just as badly. And if today hadn’t happened then he’d probably already have his dick pressed deep inside the other man as he watched him come apart around him. But seeing firsthand what Finn would suffer through if he stayed in this place had him saying, “Go to sleep, Finn,” instead. Rhys had never claimed to be an honorable man, but he’d be damned if he was going to add himself to the long list of people fucking with Finn’s emotions.
     
    ***
    Rhys tinkered with the manure spreader as the early morning heat burned into his back. It was barely eight o’clock in the morning and he felt like he’d lost half his body weight through his sweat. He’d never understood why Callan and Finn continued to wear long sleeved shirts in the blazing sun, but as his sunburned skin flamed where his T-shirt sleeve grazed the sensitive flesh, he started to realize he was the one on the losing end of that particular argument. The cowboy hat that always seemed like an accessory before was now on the top of his wish list.
    He climbed out of the foul-smelling spreader and threw the tools in the ramshackle box that Finn called the toolbox. Heading back to the barn, he saw Finn cleaning the last stall. This had become their routine over the last few days. Callan would be out most of the day riding the fence line and Finn would be taking care of the horses. Rhys had taken it upon himself to start fixing the many things that were broken around the place including repairing siding, patching holes in the roof of the barn, mending the paddock fences, and now fixing the spreader. Neither of them talked to one another throughout the day unless it was absolutely necessary and when the work day ended, Callan would disappear up to the main house to work on the books while Finn wandered off on one of his many walks. Rhys managed to watch the news or an old sitcom as he forced down some tasteless food before crawling into bed. The hardest part of his day came when Finn crawled into the bed next to him.
    It was something he should have stopped after the first night he dragged Finn against him and held him all night, but each time Finn showed up, he remained silent and waited until that warm, lean body was pressed against his, filling places Rhys hadn’t realized were empty. His arm would go around Finn before he could even think better of it and he’d wait for the desire in his body to settle enough that sleep could claim him. And for the first time in a long time, he slept through the night.