Free 02-Let It Ride by L.C. Chase

tongue snaked out and ran along his top lip. The action seemed more absent than deliberate, but it was enough for Bridge.
    “Goddamn it, Eric.” He reached out and grabbed the front of Eric’s shirt, pulling him closer until their chests bumped together and he froze. He stared into Eric’s eyes, searching for a sign that he’d gone too far, already crossed the imaginary friends-only line, but all he saw was his own need reflected back. Eric’s breath ghosted over his mouth, his cheek, and sent a rush of burning desire to all points. Bad idea or not, he didn’t care. He’d wanted Eric for too long.
    Bridge groaned, but it felt more like a growl with the way it tore a path through his throat. “You make me want to fuck it all up.”
    Before Eric could respond, he dipped his head down and claimed Eric’s mouth. The first touch sent a jolt of electricity through him, igniting every nerve ending in his body. But Eric remained still, unresponsive, and for a heart-stopping second that seemed to stretch forever, Bridge worried that he really did just cross a line and fuck everything up. He began to pull back, to plead some kind of temporary insanity or a glitch in the time-space continuum to try to rewind and leave everything as it had been, when Eric’s arms snaked around Bridge’s waist and held him, tight. A rumbling moan drifted between them, and Eric pressed his tongue to the seam of Bridge’s lips. He opened, and Eric slipped inside.
    Bridge’s dreams hadn’t come close to the reality of kissing Eric Palmer. Not by a country mile. There was no way he could have imagined the silky-smooth feel of Eric’s warm lips, the way day-old scruff brushed over his skin, the strong, wet slide of Eric’s tongue as it dueled with his, and holy hell, their tongues dueled! Never had he been on the receiving end of such an aggressive kiss, felt such demand to be so . . . consumed, so needed, and then there was the taste. Heady and spicy and it shot through his veins like liquid fire.
    This. This was what he’d wanted. This was what he’d been looking for all his life. He knew in that moment, without a single doubt, he was head over heels for Eric, and there was no going back. Not now. Not ever.
    Eric broke the kiss first and stepped back, lips glistening in the low light of the rodeo grounds, chest heaving. Tiny gossamer clouds puffed out into the space between them as their heated breaths collided with the cool night air. “You’re not alone here.” His thickly accented voice was low and ragged.
    “Knew it.” Bridge smiled, forcing himself to stay still even as his skin felt tight on his bones and his fingers itched to pull Eric back against him. He didn’t know what to do next, only knew that he wanted more. More kisses like that, more of that unique flavor, more of that lean body notched so perfectly to his. They may have just crossed a line, but fuck if anything had ever felt more right than Eric in his arms.
    The door of Marty’s RV banged open, and they both jumped, Eric taking another step back. Heat infused Bridge’s cheeks, and for a second, he felt like a kid who’d been caught up to no good. Which was maybe not too far off.
    “Hey, B.” Marty hung out the doorframe, seeming oblivious to the tension vibrating in the air like a visible force field around him and Eric. “Is there any ice left? Tripp’s leg is bugging him.”
    “Yeah.” Bridge walked over to the cooler where he’d tossed his hat and put it back on. “Give me just a minute.”
    “Thanks, dude,” Marty said, and then disappeared back inside.
    Eric ran a hand over his shorn head, and Bridge followed the motion with his eyes, wanting the hand to be his, to feel the short hair under against his palm. He looked up to the sky and pulled his bottom lip into his mouth. Stars scattered in organized chaos across the black sheet of night. Then he dropped his gaze back to meet Eric’s. “That was the best kiss I’ve ever had in my entire