Love in Xxchange: Rory's Last Chance by Bailey Bradford (poetry books to read txt) 📗

Rory felt his lungs constrict, his heart beating double time. He figured it might just make him a little twisted that Chance’s need to avenge him made Rory feel warm and bubbly inside. Still, it couldn’t happen—nothing could, really.

“Chance,” Rory said, freeing his hands to cup his lover’s firm jaw. The rasp of stubble against his palms threatened to derail his thoughts, but Rory forced himself to concentrate on what needed to be said. “You can’t do anything. You can’t confront Art, or my Dad. It will just make everything worse, and don’t forget about Annabelle.”

Chance’s shoulders jerked as a tic kicked in under his left eye. “I didn’t forget about your sister, and I can’t forget what Art did to you, either. Someone needs to make sure that son of a bitch pays for hurting you, and ensure that he never does it to anyone else again, either.”

Rory agreed that Art needed to be stopped, but Chance’s way of attempting to do so wasn’t going to work.

“And what do you think Art would do if you did go out there and confront him?” Rory tightened his hold on Chance’s jaws, unaware that he did so until he felt his lover flinch. “I’m sorry,” Rory murmured as he stroked twin paths down Chance’s neck. “But you can’t contact Art. Think about it—if he’s hurt, and furious, who’s he got to take it out on? And he will take it out on someone, won’t he?”

The colour leeched from Chance’s tanned skin in an instant. “Fuck. Fuck! I didn’t even think about that! I just… He hurt you, Rory, and I can’t forget that! It’s there and—”

Rory leant forward and swallowed Chance’s words with a kiss that he’d meant to calm his lover. However, Chance’s heady moan flowed into Rory’s mouth, and his strong arms wrapped around Rory’s shoulders. Rory scooted over and slid his body between Chance’s spread legs, pressing in as close to the man as he could.

He felt Chance’s need to protect in each sweep of his lover’s tongue, each nip and lick as Chance sought to take over the kiss. Rory let him, giving his lover everything he had, RORY’S LAST CHANCE

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including his submission. Chance’s hard muscles trembled beneath his hands, and Rory groaned. Chance responded by sucking on Rory’s tongue, pulling it deeper into his mouth before releasing it and giving Rory license to play.

And Rory did, finding every secret spot, every sweet recess in Chance’s mouth. Only after he felt he knew every intimate spot in his lover’s mouth did Rory separate their lips. He waited for his breath to regulate enough that he could speak, then Rory looked at Chance, loving the ruddy cheeks and the dark stubble, the heavy lidded eyes and the flaring of nostrils with each shaky exhalation. Rory just simply loved him.

“Chance,” Rory rasped, his voice not quite as there as he’d thought. “Yes, Art hurt me, but don’t you see? You don’t need to kill him or even rip him a new one.”

Chance closed his eyes, his lips tipping down as he shook his head. “I can’t just let it go.”

Rory cupped the back of Chance’s head, pulling him forward until their foreheads rested together. He waited until Chance met his gaze, then smiled softly. “You aren’t letting it go, Chance. You don’t need to do anything to him because…” Rory’s eyes pricked and burned, but he blinked away the threatening moisture. “Don’t you see? You already did something better than that. You helped me heal.”

Chance let himself get lost in Rory’s eyes for a long moment, let the love and desire he saw swirling in their depths comfort him. He was constantly amazed at his younger lover.

Rory’s resilience and compassion, his quiet strength, and his ability to move past the traumatic events in his life—those things, and so many more, made Rory the exceptional man he was now.

However, Chance couldn’t ignore the fact there was more than one reason Art needed to be stopped. The truth of that thought pulled him from the spell of his lover’s heated gaze.

“He’ll do it again and again, until he’s caught,” Chance pointed out, stroking the firm, stubbled line of Rory’s jaw. “It might be the next person, or a dozen more after that before someone manages to put an end to Art’s sick games. Are you willing to let that happen, to let some other innocent young man become a victim?”

Chance steeled himself against the hurt and shame in his lover’s expression as Rory’s RORY’S LAST CHANCE

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gaze dropped to the floor. He knew the answer to that question as surely as Rory did.

“No,” Rory whispered. “I… I didn’t think… I—“ A stuttering breath, then Rory looked up, the whites of his eyes now smattered with thin red vessels, moisture pooling and threatening to flow over to his cheeks. “I just want it to be over, to leave it in the past, you know? But you’re right. Art—“ Rory shuddered, blinking rapidly before swiping at his eyes.

“He enjoys hurting people too much to just stop.”

“Baby,” Chance rasped, unable to stand to see his lover in pain. “Come here.” Chance stood, tugging Rory up with him as he did. He guided the younger man over to the couch, then carefully sat, pulling Rory down with him. A minimal amount of wiggling had them sprawled together on the worn leather cushions. Chance held Rory tightly with one arm. His other hand was already fingering the soft blond curls that tickled his chin as Rory rested his head on Chance’s chest.

“I thought once he had the ranch, maybe he’d quit.”

Chance’s brow furrowed as he looked at his hand spearing through Rory’s hair. “I thought the ranch was going to your sister?”

Rory’s snorted, washing Chance’s chest in warm air. “Yeah, no. Dad—Ian—would never leave the ranch to a woman, not even his own daughter.”

“But—” Chance broke off, too confused to