Sworn Enemy: An MM Enemies-To-Lovers Book (Wild Heart Ranch 1)
Sworn Enemy: Chapter 15

Four teams of people are framing out each side of the barn, and thankfully Charlie and his parents are about as far away from me as they can get. Charlie was right about me staying. I think we both need to see this thing through.

Doesn’t mean I’m not in a world-class shame spiral right now.

Charlie’s mom was the sweetest person I knew growing up. Yes, it felt awful to be confronted by her, but to see her defend her son like that, I can’t help but wonder how different our lives might have been if Jason and I had grown up with parents like June and Charles. No wonder Charlie’s been able to put himself back together.

The guilt I feel when I think about how it would have destroyed his parents to lose him…it’s overwhelming. I can’t even begin to process the fact that Charlie defended me. So I don’t. I focus on the work.

With everybody cooperating on the job site, the frame out takes hardly any time. After that is the big moment: the raising of the walls. Watching the community come together to bring up all four sides is touching, and I’m glad to see I’m not the only one who sheds a few tears.

I look over at Nacho, and we burst into laughter. I wipe away the couple-few tears from my cheeks and he does the same.

“I didn’t know it could be like this,” I admit, grinning broadly.

“It’s good to see,” he agrees as we move back to let the more experienced carpenters brace the structure and make sure it’s plumb.

Once that’s done, the interior crew takes up the plumbing and electrical work while Nacho and I join the team preparing and cutting the gorgeous reclaimed-wood siding.

Since I’m good with a nail gun and not afraid of heights, the foreman has me climb the ladder to demonstrate how to tack up the gorgeous vertical siding. Afterward, we divide again into four groups, each team efficiently working through the stacks of pretreated stained paneling.

I note with some relief that Charlie’s parents leave before the lunch break, though their sweet family goodbye twists something in my heart.

After lunch, the indoor and outdoor teams settle into a rhythm. Per the foreman’s request, I take up the detailing work at the very top. It’s fussy but damn satisfying to get right. Truth be told, I enjoy the solitude up here. Not only do I get to avoid the gossips who saw what went down this morning, but the view is spectacular.

Of course, the Texas Hill Country is always beautiful, but Charlie’s property is densely wooded in the back and extends to the creek. I can see why Mr. Wills wanted to keep this land in the family. It’s a great place to raise kids.

After I finish framing the last high window, the foreman in charge calls it a day. Most people are already gone when I make it down the ladder, and I’m surprised to see Charlie waiting at the bottom with a bottle of water.

“Oh thanks,” I say, grateful for the cold refreshment. “I ran out of water up there about an hour ago, and I’m parched.”

I tip my head back and drink until I’ve emptied the bottle.

“Here,” he says, cracking another bottle. “You shouldn’t have waited so long to get some water in you.”

I wave him off. “I know. I just hate to stop once I’m in a groove.”

Charlie nods, looking over my work. “Fuck, you damn near did the top half of the siding all by yourself.”

“Eh. I kinda like to work up high,” I say, stepping back to look at the whole thing while finishing the second bottle of water.

Wiping my mouth on my dusty sleeve, I let out a low whistle. “Damn, Charlie. This is a fancy fucking barn.”

“It turned out way better than I thought it would. Wanna see the inside?”

“Of course”

I follow him to the enormous sliding doors, which he opens with a flourish and gestures for me to go inside.

Wow. The dying sun fills the space with golden, filtered light and the smell of fresh-cut pine fills my nose. Our booted footsteps echo around us, and the energy here feels like a new beginning.

We step into an enormous open space with dirt flooring and gabled ceilings that soar above us. Beyond that are several stalls and second-story lofts that will no doubt be filled with bales of hay and feed in short order.

“This is gorgeous, Charlie.”

“Thank you,” he says, his cheeks slightly red.

He gestures to the large open space in front of us. “This is where we’ll train the horses and host equine therapy sessions.”

“Have you already hired a therapist?”

“Yes. Actually, we’ll have two therapists, and they’re brothers. One specializes in equine therapy and the other specializes in trauma therapy.”

I chuckle. “A therapeutic tag team.”

“Yep. And they’re both gay, so I’m hoping that’ll make queer kids more likely to go to them.”

“Exactly what we could’ve used growing up,” I observe.

Charlie goes quiet next to me.

“I’m sorry. Should I not have said that?”

He shoves his hands in his pockets. “You didn’t say anything wrong. It was a good reminder that you were dealing with a lot at home. Growing up with parents who didn’t accept you must’ve been awful.”

“Well…it wasn’t fun. I forever lived in fear of my dad’s eagle eye replaceing something remotely gay about what I was wearing or how I was acting.”

“I’m sorry you had to grow up around that. Nobody deserves to be made to feel that they are inherently wrong.”

I nod, and an awkward silence descends around us. Looking for something to say, I ask, “Hey, have you seen Nacho?”

“Oh yeah. I asked him to take Erik into town and pick up a few supplies from the store. Maybe grab dinner for us from the Broken Oak,” he says, opening the large barn door.

I pause, looking over at him, not quite able to work out what’s happening. “That’s…awfully generous of you.”

“Not really,” he says, tilting his head toward his trailer.

I start after him, nervous about his friendliness. The flirty-teasing thing from this week is one thing, but this feels different. Steady. He opens the door, ushering me in. The A/C pours over me, and it feels like I’ve jumped into a cold spring.

“Hey,” he says, turning to me suddenly. I bump into him, and he grins, rocking back. “So yeah. Nacho and Erik might be a while. You want to take a shower? I can lend you some clothes.”

“Uh, sure. That’s…fine.”

He leads me through his bedroom to an ensuite bathroom and hands me a fresh washcloth and bar of soap. “Feel free to use whatever shampoo is in there. I’ll leave you some clothes on the bed.”

Standing so close to one another in his bathroom is surreal. Like maybe I’ve somehow stumbled onto a different timeline. That said, I’m so grimy and sweaty that I’d kill for a shower. I get the water going, and Charlie walks out, looking back at me before shutting the door to his bedroom.

The shower pressure is pretty damn good for a mobile home, and afterward, I replace a pair of clean sweats and a white T-shirt waiting on the bed for me. It’s unsettling to be naked in Charlie’s room, especially since I did dirty, terrible things with a dildo this entire week while calling out his name.

Shutting down any dildo-related fantasies, I drop my towel and get dressed quick as I can. The unfortunate result is that when I walk into the living room, Charlie’s T-shirt is spackled against my still-damp back and my hair is five kinds of messy.

“Shower okay?” Charlie asks, pointing to some chips and queso on the counter.

Grateful for the distraction, I fall on the crunchy, gooey goodness, cramming a couple of chips at a time into my mouth. Charlie snorts, and I look up, a chip falling from my mouth onto the pristine white T-shirt.

“Sorry. I’m hungrier than I thought.”

He chuckles, looking up at my hair. “No problem.”

I wipe my mouth with the back of my arm and run my fingers through the tangled mess. Going back to his initial question, I answer, “The shower was awesome. But, uh, do you mind if I borrow a brush or a comb or something?”

“Not at all. On the counter in the bathroom.”

I get nervous all over again as I walk back there, though I’m not totally sure why. I curse under my breath when I see the state of my hair, then curse again when my hands tremble as I brush the mess into some semblance of order. Stepping back to look at myself in the mirror, I wonder how long I’ve wandered around in public this badly in need of a haircut.

Also, has my Adam’s apple always been this prominent? Maybe it’s because my neck is skinnier. I mean…who knew necks could get skinnier?

Ugh.

And on top of everything, I’m rocking the world’s most ridiculous farmer’s tan. I pull up my shirt and fucking nearly blind myself. I like the tan on my arms and legs, but damn. That is one creamy-white belly.

I flex a little—so stupid—but at least I don’t look like a tweaked-out mess anymore. I suppose I’ve got more of a basketball physique than the brute musculature of my high school football days, but…hey. I’m still decently attractive.

Right?

Even if my hair can’t decide on a damn thing.

Enough, Jennings. Stop wasting time in front of the mirror. Who the hell are you trying to impress?

I sheepishly make my way back into the living room, and Charlie is frowning at his phone.

“Something wrong?”

He wrinkles his nose. “Eh. Erik and Nacho got a flat right outside of town.”

“They need help with the spare?”

He shakes his head. “No, but it looks like they need two spares. Jason says Marty’s got him covered and is sending out a tow truck.”

“Ah, man—they called Jason after hours?”

I curse under my breath and grab my phone. Sure enough. I missed three calls while flexing like a dork in the mirror.

Charlie’s lips quirk up. “Yeah. But it wasn’t Jason who picked up the phone.”

“You’re fucking kidding me.”

“I am not. Pretty sure it was on the truck’s Bluetooth, so…”

Man, I bet Patrick is pissed.

I rub my hands over my face. “Nacho already knows, but do you think Erik will say anything to anyone?”

Charlie shakes his head. “Erik knows how to keep things to himself.”

“Okay, good. But still—what a pain in the ass. Are you sure you don’t wanna grab Erik and drop me off with Nacho?”

Looking down at his phone, Charlie waves off that suggestion. “Looks like they’re gonna hang out at the Broken Oak while they wait.”

“What are the odds they fuck in the restroom?” I ask, laughing to myself.

“Pretty high. Anyway, I’ve got some leftover spaghetti to heat up, or we can see if someone’ll deliver way out here.”

I shake my head. “Leftover spaghetti with queso and chips sounds perfect.”

We make small talk over the reheated leftovers, which only gets awkward in a few spots.

“Uh, do you like to play games?” Charlie asks, holding up a controller for one of the sleek new consoles.

I sandbag a little. “I do. I mean, I’m terrible at it, but sure.”

“What’s your poison?”

“I like first-person shooters.” I grimace, wondering what he must think of that, given our history. “But I’ll play anything.”

“Sweet. I love first-person shooters. Prepare to have your ass handed to you.”

I laugh and blow on my fingers. “You can try, but you will fail.”

He laughs, looking awfully self-assured. “We’ll see about that.”

As it turns out, we’re both high-level players, very competitive. We bump into each other throughout the game, mostly accidentally, but sometimes on purpose, to throw the other off.

A huge monster jumps out at some point, scaring the shit out of me, and I practically land in Charlie’s lap.

“Shit, sorry, dude,” I say, grimacing.

Charlie sends me a genuine smile and my cock plumps.

Goddammit, Justin.

“No worries, man.” He takes aim and shoots my character in the head. “Happens to the best of us.”

“Son of a bitch,” I grumble, shouldering him out of the way.

We go back and forth for a while, but when it comes to the last level, I beat him by less than a thousand points. Feeling awfully proud of myself, I hop up and give him a little ass shake.

“Shut up,” he says, pulling on the sweats he lent me. “Sit down and give me a rematch. You distracted me with your damsel in distress move.”

I cackle, enjoying my win as I shove another queso-covered chip into my mouth.

“Oh my God. You are such a mess—look at what you’ve done to my T-shirt.”

I look down and, sure enough, I’ve dripped a massive amount of queso down the center of his shirt. There’s also a drying splotch of spaghetti sauce I somehow missed.

“Shit, dude. I’ll replace it. You mind taking a quick break so I can clean this up?”

He nods, and I run back through his bedroom, taking off the shirt and scrubbing it in the sink as best I can. The results are…mixed. Honestly, I think I just ground the queso further into the fibers. Maybe he won’t mind lending me another shirt. Perhaps something that hides stains a little better.

I walk into his darkened room, nearly running into him.

“Shit, sorry,” I spit out, startled when his hands grasp my hips to steady me, his fingers brushing my skin.

“Oh. No problem,” he says, his eyes drifting to my bare chest. “Something happen with the shirt?”

“I, uh, think I made it worse. It probably needs to go into the machine. I was going to see if you had something with a distracting print to make up for the additional queso I will definitely be spilling in our next round.”

He grins as he walks into his closet. “I’ve got just the thing,” he says, chuckling. His voice is slightly muffled as he continues talking from deep within the closet. “I want you to know that you really did a great job out there. Everybody on the ground was talking about it. You changed a lot of minds today.”

I swallow. “Well, hey, as long as I changed your mind, then I’m good.”

He walks out of the closet with the world’s ugliest Hawaiian T-shirt in his hands. “You did that a long time ago. Also, this should be enough to cover your horrid eating habits.”

“Jackass,” I say, swiping it from him, ignoring what his answer just did to my heart rate.

You did that a long time ago.

I thread my arms into the holes and catch his eyes tracking down my chest again. Fuck, I don’t know what that means, but it feels good.

Dragging the shirt over my head, I jump when he puts his hand on my hip.

“Wait.”

“Yes?” I ask, pulling the shirt on the rest of the way as my heart rate takes another leap. Thankfully, I’m hyperaware of the heat of his hand on my skin, so I’m successfully distracted from the worsening tachycardia. More or less.

Charlie sways, uncharacteristically indecisive. I can’t read his expression. I only know that we’re both breathing super heavily.

“Charlie?”

“I, uh, was just thinking. This week, running into you. This whole afternoon, watching you work so hard, even though you had to know people were talking about what happened with my mom—” He pauses, scratching the back of his head. “It made me want to see if I could have a do-over.”

“A do-over?” I ask, my voice pitching up at the end.

“Yeah. I got rough with you the last time, and I’m not normally like that.”

“Oh,” I say, letting the air out of my lungs. “Uh, yeah. Okay. So, you’re gonna…”

“Kiss you.” He lifts his eyes to meet mine.

Oh.

Oh fuck.

Staring into his eyes is like grabbing a live wire with both hands. It’s not just the unreal color. It’s the intensity in them. He lifts a brow, silently asking permission, and I bob my head like an idiot.

He gently brings a hand up behind my head and pulls me in. His lips meet mine, and my body goes electric as if it’s finally figured out what to do with all this nervous energy. He deepens the kiss, and so do I, moaning as he pushes me against the door, grinding his hard-on against mine.

There’s a rhythm to this kiss I’ve never experienced, a sensual back and forth that feels so—

He pulls away from the kiss, shaking his head as he stares at my lips.

“I’m sorry, Charlie. I didn’t—”

He cuts me off. “Why is this so fucking good, Justin?” His eyes meet mine—more of that insane voltage running through my veins. “I mean…it’s good, right? The kissing?”

Still breathing heavy, I nod. “Yeah. Uh. Really good.”

His eyes hold confusion as they zero back in on my mouth. “You do have soft lips.”

I hold his gaze as I lick them, and he lets out a…growl, maybe. He comes in for another kiss, and there’s something in his gentleness that’s burning me up all over. Something in the soothing way his hands land on my ass and softly coax me into a closer grind.

The kiss intensifies, and Charlie pivots us away from the closet door and begins to walk me backward. I grunt when the backs of my legs hit the bed.

Charlie pulls at the ugly shirt he lent me, his eyes a little confused. A little wild. I take over and shimmy out of the shirt, then scootch back on the bed, pulling him down on top of me for another heart-rattling kiss.

My body has long been the battlefield for my addictions and trauma, and it hasn’t felt good in a very, very long time, despite how desperately I’ve looked for dopamine in all the wrong places. I’d forgotten, or maybe I never knew to begin with, that I could feel like this. His solid weight bearing down on me is amazing.

He adjusts so the firm outline of his cock is now pushing against mine. He’s fully dressed, and the way his jeans catch against the sweatpants material is starting to make my eyes roll back in my head.

He leaves my mouth and begins to lay suctioning kisses at the base of my throat, his hips pistoning against me. He lowers to my collarbones, and my precum dampens the inside of the soft material. He reaches up with his thumb, slipping it in my mouth, and I can’t help but suck on it. Tongue it. He growls as his greedy mouth replaces a nipple and bites it hard.

I let out a shout, bucking up against him.

He stops immediately. “Did I hurt you?”

“It stings.” I’m breathing heavy, trying not to come in my pants. “So perfect. Put your mouth back on me,” I order and let my head drop to the bed.

He nips and sucks at the other nipple, his hands on my hips, lowering the pants as he works his way down my body.

He’s looking at my treasure trail when he pauses to glance up at me.

“I don’t mean to be insensitive, but I really want to taste you, and with your drug history…”

“Never did intravenous drugs, never had any STIs that a little penicillin couldn’t fix. Sex with you was the first I’d had in a long time, last test was negative.”

He nods, his eyes softening. “I’m sorry for asking.”

I shake my head, making sure he sees me. “No, you need to ask those kinds of questions. You’re so sweet to even worry. I’m not ashamed of who I am. I regret some things, of course, but you weren’t being unkind.”

He reverses course and kisses my mouth again, grinding even harder against me.

“So close,” I breathe out.

He grins and works his way down my body again, stopping to tongue my belly button as he pulls the pants down past my ass, causing my cock to spring up.

He looks down and chuckles, shaking his head. “Why do wiry dudes always have such monster cocks?”

“Just lucky, I guess,” I joke.

He glances at me and returns my smile before pulling the head into his mouth. He sucks hard, punching his tongue into the slit.

“Close,” I warn again. He pulls off, and I grunt, rolling my hips to push the head against his lips, reckless with my need for him to suck me off.

He works up a bit of spit in his mouth and lets it drip onto my head, spreading it down my cock with his hand. He does it again, pulling away when my hips come up to meet him.

“Cocktease,” I curse.

“Yep,” he says, his grin wide.

He shifts to my right, lying on his side while stroking me. This puts his lips back in range, so I tilt my hips toward him, silently begging for more.

He bites his lip, shaking his head before leaning in to kiss the tip while tightening his grip on my shaft. The kiss and his hand drive me to the edge of ecstasy, and I just know my orgasm is gonna go off like a bomb.

I smile wide as I pump into his grip, bumping against his mouth, only to have both go away again.

I fall back on the bed, punching the mattress. “Motherfucker!”

“I’m going to need you to beg me.”

Incredulous, I turn my head, replaceing an evil grin on his face.

“Is this payback for high school?”

“You bet your sweet ass it is.”

I let my head fall back again. “Fair. Completely fair. And if it weren’t obvious, this is me begging you. Your hand, your mouth, anything. Please, let me come.”

“Good boy,” he mutters before shifting between my legs again.

Having secured begging from me, he takes my entire length into his mouth in one dizzying motion. My muscles strain as my back comes off the bed again. He’s relentless. Sucking, swirling his tongue, gripping my balls, bruising my hips with his fingertips.

I let out a sound I’ve never made before and punch my hips up. He chokes but keeps coming after me, and finally, I let go. Every inch of skin can feel his touch. Every ounce of muscle is in his thrall.

He chases me with his mouth, drinking me down, sucking me until I’m oversensitive and begging him to stop.

He pulls back, that predatory look in his eye.

Propping himself up, he kneels as he works his button and zipper, pulling everything down far enough to free his cock. Spitting on it, he grips it hard, stroking himself almost violently, his pleasured grunts profane and sexy as hell. Locking me in his gaze, he starts to go over. His hot cum stripes my chest and belly.

Slumping a little, he breathes heavily through the aftershocks. We share a glance, and I open my arm. Nodding, he crawls over to my side, collapsing against my chest, his jeans halfway down his thighs.

After a few more deep breaths, Charlie begins playing with his cum on my chest. He scoops a little of it and pushes it past my lips. I suck on his finger, greedy for any element of him.

He repeats it with a bigger scoop, and I’m just as thirsty for this one. Taking off his shirt, he mops up the rest.

I’m a little disappointed when he pulls away from me and stands. He’s a little wobbly as he bends down to untie his work boots. Toeing them off, he lets his jeans fall to the floor.

“Wow,” I whisper. “I’ve never seen someone so perfect this close up.”

Grinning, he kneels on the bed and kisses my belly before tugging off my sweatpants, which have drifted to my ankles. Silently, he pats my hip, and I raise my ass so he can yank out the covers from underneath. He then gets in bed next to me and pulls them over us.

I look over at him, unsure. Sleepy, almost drunk-like, he pushes at my hip. “On your side.”

Having just had a top-tier orgasm, I’m not arguing. I do as he asks and shift onto my side, facing away from him. Charlie comes from behind me, sneaking his leg over mine as he wraps me in his arms.

“I’m a post-sex snuggler. If you’d rather not, that’s totally fine,” he says as he tightens his grip on me.

I know I could absolutely say no, and he would gracefully let me go. But I don’t want to.

I don’t know why he’s been flirting with me. I don’t know why he wanted this do-over. I don’t know why we just got each other off, and I really don’t know why he’s big-spooning me right now, but I’ll take it.

I’ll take whatever he can give.