The Man Who Loved Cole Flores (Dig Two Graves 1)

Cole snorted and rested his head on Ned’s shoulder, and while they’d have to untangle and slide into bedrolls eventually, he wasn’t yet ready to let go.

Chapter 16

Hugging and kissing before the sun climbed from beyond the horizon would never end if Ned had something to say about it, but the time to get up couldn’t be postponed anymore once the sound of people rising became obvious outside. The risk of someone barging in was too great, so Ned had to untangle himself from Cole.

Far too soon.

He hadn’t yet learned every scar and beauty spot on the tawny skin by heart, and was dissatisfied when Cole had left the tent for his morning wash. Ned’s mind was set on daydreaming about all the things they’d done and those he still wanted to try, but he occupied his hands with more mundane matters like the razor blade with which he intended to shave.

The handle was buffalo horn, smooth, with no identifying markings. Ned’s father had purchased it in Beaver Springs the year before he died, but hadn’t marked it with his initials or any other engraving. So it was what it was—horn, steel, and memories of happy yet tough times.

Ned swallowed when his own eyes reflected on the side of the blade, so very much like his father’s. He stalled, squeezing the handle. His skin was fragrant with the aroma of Cole’s flesh, sweat, and spunk, and he found himself wondering whether this unexpected infatuation wouldn’t end up dulling his lust for revenge.

Since he’d joined the Gotham Boys, he woke up every day with the goal of seeing Butcher Tom draw his last breath on the gallows. But not today. Today, he’d hugged Cole close and smelled his hair, thinking about every inch of the sturdy body he had yet to explore.

His eyes narrowed when he looked into his small mirror and spotted dark red blots sprouting all over his neck.

Love bites.

“Fuck.” He snatched his bandana off Cole’s wooden chest and wrapped the plaid cloth around his neck only to realize he’d make a mess of it during shaving. He put the bandana high around his neck the moment his skin was smooth, though. Despite having covered all the marks, he still stiffened when Cole entered the tent, carrying the scent of soap. There was a wooden plank in his hand, and on it—two plates and a kettle that filled the interior with the scent of strong coffee.

“Mornin’ again,” he said, capturing Ned’s lips in a little smooch as soon as he placed the food on the side table.

Ned grinned. This was a dream, and he was desperate to seem as attractive to Cole as it was the other way around, though the task might be futile because Cole Flores was perfection. “I should be angry over the bites you left on my neck, but I can’t.”

“Please don’t,” Cole whispered, rubbing his fingers up and down Ned’s chest, intimately close. “I brought us breakfast.”

Every single touch felt new and conveyed an affection very different than friendly pats on the back they’d exchanged before. Lust swirled in the air along with the delicious vapors from the coffee.

“Spoilin’ me already.” Ned couldn’t help but be flattered despite regretting he hadn’t thought of treating Cole himself. Learning how to best handle intimacy between two men would be an uphill climb, but he’d only think about it once he filled his mouth with the fried potatoes, bacon, and eggs. There was even dessert—a little cup of canned strawberries.

“Got those from Bertha for a nice hairpin I took off a lady on that train. I hear they’re sweeter than when they’re fresh,” Cole said, moving one arm around Ned’s waist while sliding his fingertips over the shaved flesh. “You look good with smooth skin.”

Ned’s heart fluttered at the compliment, and he vowed to himself he’d use his razor every single day. “Should I shave my chest?” He laughed and picked one of the soft strawberries before trying any of the savory items, just because he could. A little bit of outlawry for breakfast. Aunt Muriel would have been scandalized.

Cole chuckled and leaned down to rub his face against Ned’s breastbone. Could he sense the red hairs through the cotton?

“Those shall stay where they are.”

As the sweetness of fruit flooded Ned’s tongue, he slid his hand under Cole’s shirt and stroked him, amazed to realize that he’d always had an attraction to male flesh. He’d just never let his thoughts wander far enough to understand its true nature. “I can’t get enough of you.”

Yet the breakfast was cooling, and his stomach grumbled.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Cole said and kissed Ned’s smooth cheek before pouring coffee into their mugs. They sat across from the remains of the cot and ate in peace, half-heartedly listening to the sounds of the camp coming alive around them.