“What?”

“I saw your painting. And Annie said you do charcoal sketches.”

“I—”

“You are going to draw me something, and you’re going to do it tonight.”

Zane laughed. “What?”

“You should draw me a tattoo!”

Zane raised an eyebrow, arrested by the thought. He hadn’t drawn in years, hadn’t even thought of it, but the idea of using Ty’s skin as a canvas was appealing in so many ways. “I might have to do that,” he rasped.

Ty nodded. Zane pulled the hat off Ty’s head and stepped in close to kiss at the corner of his mouth. Ty reached to tug him closer, but stopped when his cast got in the way. He couldn’t grip Zane’s arm, couldn’t drag his hand over Zane’s back, couldn’t even work at any of Zane’s buttons. Zane huffed in annoyance and started on his own shirt buttons.

Ty grunted and turned his hand over.

“How much longer are you in that thing?”

“Couple more weeks, at least.”

“That’s really going to cause some chafing if you’re not careful.”

“Zane, come on, that’s just mean.” Ty didn’t sound too amused, but then, a broken hand had to drive a man like Ty nuts. Especially since it was his dominant hand.

Zane looked from Ty’s eyes to the cast with a sinking feeling. He knew what Ty was thinking.

Sure enough, Ty bent and extracted the Strider at his ankle.

Zane squared his shoulders and pointed. “Tyler Grady, don’t you dare cut that cast off.”

Ty put the blade to the edge of the plaster, eyes wide and innocent, as if he were hurt that Zane would think he’d do such a thing.

“I’ll take it from you, Ty.”

Ty narrowed his eyes, then turned and took a few steps away. “Try it, Lone Star,” he said as he shoved the knife under the padding and started sawing at it. He hunched his shoulders when Zane took a step toward him.

“Ty! Do not cut that cast off!”

“It itches!”

Zane grabbed his hand, pulling it and the knife away from the cast.

Ty slithered away and held the knife out to the side, blade pointed away from Zane. “Quit it!” he said, holding out his hurt hand as if to keep Zane at bay. He stayed there for a second, a standoff as they stared at each other, then took a quick step back and began to saw at the cast again.

Zane darted close, grasped Ty’s cast, and yanked it to the side, away from the knife. Ty held the knife out again, stepping closer to Zane to hinder his movements rather than trying to pull away from him. He couldn’t get the cast out of Zane’s grasp, though.

“Just let me cut it off!” Ty begged as he tried and failed to twist it free.

“No!” Zane grabbed at the knife, fully aware of—and turned on by—how their bodies aligned when they grappled. Just like the first fight they’d ever had, a real one, where he’d found himself with a raging hard-on as he’d pinned Ty to a wall in an alley in New York City.

Ty shot Zane his best seductive smile. “I’ll do fun things to you if you let me cut it off.”

“You’ll do fun things to me anyway.”

“Dammit!”

“You cut it off, you’ll start using it. You start using it, you’ll fuck it up again.”

“That’s the fun of life,” Ty insisted. Then he hooked his foot behind Zane’s ankle and pulled his leg forward.

Zane swore as he stumbled and pitched backward toward the floor, but managed to snake an arm around Ty to pull him down with him. They both hit hard, and Zane rolled over and scrabbled at Ty’s good wrist, trying to get the knife.

Ty stretched his arm as far as he could while wrapping his legs around Zane’s waist and clamping down, putting the knife just out of Zane’s reach. So Zane grasped Ty’s arm and started beating it against the floor to dislodge the knife.

Ty struggled briefly, but then gave a plaintive, “Ow! Dammit!” and the knife clattered to the plank floor. He yanked his hurt hand away from Zane and whacked him in the arm with the hard plaster cast.

“Ow! Ty!” Zane shouted. He pushed down on both Ty’s shoulders, pinning him to the floor. “Give it up.”

“Have you ever known that to work with me?” Ty asked wryly, attempting to roll onto his stomach even with Zane’s weight pressed against him.

Zane kissed him, letting it go hot and messy, but he didn’t loosen his hold. If anything, his hands gripped tighter and his knees closed against Ty’s sides. Ty pulled him closer, wrapping him up, letting Zane feel his cock hardening against him.

“That’s an illegal move,” Ty panted. He closed his eyes and rested his head on the floor.

Zane chuckled and lowered himself to his elbows, rubbing his nose along Ty’s jaw. “Since when is any move illegal with you?”

Ty pressed his mouth to Zane’s. “When it gives you the advantage.” His words rumbled against Zane’s lips as they kissed, and Zane moved one hand to touch Ty’s face.

Ty arched his back, stretching his arms out above him on the floor. ”Ah ah ah,” Zane said as he slid his hands up Ty’s arms to pull them back down. Ty twisted and Zane struggled to get him under him again. God, how he wanted him now! If Ty would cooperate, they could be fucking in a matter of minutes. “Just stop it. You’re not taking that cast off! And you’re driving me fucking crazy!”

“There’s a short trip!”

Zane pushed to his knees and hauled Ty up against him so he could straddle Ty’s lap. He grabbed his chin and kissed him. “For God’s sake, shut the fuck up,” he said, breathless, before kissing him again.

Ty snickered.

Zane kissed him harder. “You feel like putting that hat back on and saddling up?”

Ty’s breath hitched, eyes dark and cheeks flushed. “Oh yeah. But if you utter the words ‘ride ’em cowboy,’ I’m done.”

Zane grinned. Ty slid both hands up Zane’s side, but stopped when his cast met resistance. Zane flinched as something poked him in the side.

They both shifted enough to look at Ty’s arm.

The tip of the Strider had found its way into the plaster of Ty’s cast, cutting through the edge, and both tip and handle were sticking out at opposite angles. It had gone completely through.

“Shit,” Ty whispered as he stared at his cast, now complete with movie-prop knife sticking through it.

Zane blinked at the knife in horror and released Ty, who flopped onto his back. “Son of a bitch, Ty.”

Ty began to laugh again, holding his arm to the side, which was a pretty good indication that the knife hadn’t actually cut him. Zane rolled his eyes, grabbed the Strider, and yanked it out. Ty howled in protest, but he was far too late. He lay there with wide eyes, looking at Zane incredulously as Zane flipped it around and around before brandishing it over Ty, not in the least bit amused.

“What if it was in my arm, you toolbag?”

“Then you would be bleeding.”

“You didn’t know I wasn’t bleeding, you can’t see the wound!”

“I made an educated guess.”

“Ha! Now I have to take it off! I could be injured.”

Zane snapped the knife over and over in his hand with simple flicks of his wrist. “I’ll give you injured.”

Ty grinned crookedly and shifted a little under Zane. “Bring it.”

A smile pulled at Zane’s lips, and without answering, he threw the knife to jam into the wooden door of the bathroom. Then he curled his fingers into Ty’s shirt and drew Ty up toward him, the muscles in his arm straining.

“Nice toss,” Ty said, but he was staring up into Zane’s eyes, his expression torn between arousal and annoyance.

“Thanks.”

Ty grabbed Zane with his good hand, yanking him toward the floor as they kissed. Zane went willingly and settled on top of Ty, who spread his knees wider so Zane could sink between them, making him hotter and harder as he rutted against Ty’s body. He grabbed Ty behind the neck and crushed their mouths together, his tongue invading Ty’s in a messy kiss. Then he pulled back.

“The cast isn’t coming off.”

“Dammit!”

Zane climbed to his feet with an annoyed grunt and stalked over to the bathroom, where he jerked the Strider out of the door. “And I’ll be holding onto this for safekeeping.”

“No, no, no!” Ty scrambled to his feet. “I need to be armed, Zane. What if the horses revolt?”

“You can put that sharp wit of yours to use.”

“Clever use of wordplay, I approve. Penalty points subtracted.”

“I’ll give it back in the morning. Or after I’ve been laid at least three times. Whichever one comes first.”

Ty sighed and flopped his hands, as if the thought of having sex with Zane in return for his knife would be such a hassle.

Zane raised an eyebrow, smiling as Ty stalked closer. He jabbed the knife into the doorway again, then met Ty halfway, wrapping him up in a slow, passionate kiss.

“I knew you’d come around,” Zane murmured.

“Just shut up and undo some of these buttons.”

Zane couldn’t help but laugh. He did as requested, undoing the buttons of his own shirt and popping the ones on his and Ty’s jeans. He let his hand settle on Ty’s torso, appreciating the toned muscles under his fingers, loving the way Ty raised his arms and settled his hands on Zane’s shoulders just because he knew it would make Zane tighten his hold and kiss him.

Zane loved little things like that. They’d grown so familiar with each other they could give and take such cues and rarely even realize they were doing it. He occasionally found himself talking with his hands like Ty did, and once or twice he’d noticed Ty sitting idly by as their coworkers argued, too mellow to involve himself.

They were good for each other in so many ways, even if foreplay did sometimes include a Strider and a sucker punch to the midsection.

“Zane,” Ty gasped as he broke the kiss. “Come back.”

“What?” Zane asked, confused and turned on and distracted by his tangent.

“Whatever you’re thinking about right now, drop it and come back.” Ty emphasized the request by pushing Zane’s pants down his hips.

Zane started laughing, surprised by just how funny it struck him. Ty’s fingers were on his skin, sliding his boxers to his thighs, and it warmed every inch of Zane’s body as he gazed into Ty’s eyes.

“I was just musing over how perfect you are for me.”

Ty’s lips twitched into a smile. He didn’t appear to have anything clever to say. His rough hand dragged across Zane’s chest and he began backing toward the door where he’d left his bags earlier in the day.

Zane followed him, kicking out of the remainder of his clothes. It was rare that Ty had nothing to say, no witty rejoinder, no snappy remark. It intrigued Zane, his body tingling with growing anticipation. The last time Ty had pulled the silent game was before they’d left for the cruise ship last Christmas, when Ty had wanted to practice being a mind-blowingly sexy submissive. Zane’s cock jumped at the mere memory of that evening.

He watched Ty saunter across the room, taking his fill of Ty’s naked body, tempted to sit on the couch and touch himself to see what Ty would do. He would much rather Ty be the one touching, though.

Ty rummaged through his bag, no doubt searching for lube. Zane took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. He loved that the prospect of having sex with Ty could still make his stomach flutter like a schoolboy’s and his body react like a man twenty years younger.

When Ty stood up, he had a bottle in hand. But instead of coming toward Zane, he stuck his bare foot into the cowboy hat on the ground and kicked it into the air. He caught it with his good hand and turned a mischievous grin on Zane. He didn’t say anything, merely held the hat out as if displaying it. Then he flipped it and turned it around his hand, rolled it up his arm, and set it on his head with a flourish.

Zane grinned from ear to ear, not sure whether to be impressed or turned on. He was both, at this point.

He took a step back, letting his heel hit the couch behind him. He sank down onto it, slouching and spreading his legs wide as he wrapped long fingers around his cock. Ty was advancing on him, and that crooked grin from beneath the brim of that cowboy hat should have been illegal in most states.

The hat, the compass rose pendant, and the grin were the only things Ty wore now. Zane’s breath came in shallow bursts as Ty climbed into his lap.

“Ty,” he whispered as he looked up into his partner’s eyes.

“You told me if I ever came to Texas you’d teach me how to ride,” Ty drawled. The low gravel of his seductive voice never failed to hit all of Zane’s happy places.

“I did.”

Ty kissed him, long and hard, forced to turn his head so the brim of his hat wouldn’t interfere. Zane tried to push his hips up, but Ty wasn’t sitting in his lap; he was hovering, the muscles of his thighs straining. Zane grabbed them and squeezed, enjoying the feel of Ty’s hard muscles at work. Ty’s hand was on him, slathering him in lube, squeezing and pulling, teasing. Zane moaned, close to blissful as Ty handled him.

He pulled Ty closer by his thighs, forcing his body to contort until he could no longer manage the kiss, and Ty’s cock brushed Zane’s chest as Ty arched his back and sighed. Zane scanned up his body, eyes following the smooth lines of hard muscles, a six-pack he had once licked whipped cream from, and the edge of Ty’s jaw as he tilted his head back.

He was, without a doubt, the most beautiful thing Zane had ever laid eyes on.