“I’m on light duties. Mom and Kayley saw to it.”
“What about the roundup?”
“Sitting on a horse is no trouble. I’ll be there. God, can you imagine? Kayley would have you hightailin’ it out of here in an hour without supervision.”
“Hey! I like Kayley, she’s a straight shooter.”
He grunts a half laugh. “One way to put it.”
Rounding the bathroom door, he sets me down on the vanity. Not bothering to close the door, he steps into the large shower area and flicks on both showerheads.
“Oh, I get two this time?”
“We.”
He tugs his T-shirt from his back, leaving him in his old, ripped jeans that hug his thighs. His hard stomach, ending in that V pointing south, tenses as his biceps do, then the shirt hits the tiles. He crowds me on the vanity, moving in between my legs. I pull him in closer, drawing his mouth down to mine.
When he breaks away, I reach for him, but he’s kicking off his jeans. The boxers left behind are tented. He leaves them on as he gestures for me to hold up my arms.
Instead, I lift my top myself. Slowly. Like, real slow.
“Oh, I see how it is. Independent woman of mine.”
I laugh and toss the shirt at him.
It hits his face, and he holds the shirt tight, breathing deep. A low rumble, muted by the fabric, escapes him. Lifting his head, he drops the shirt with his clothes. “Oh yeah, baby, you smell. Definitely time to get you wet.”
Hands sliding behind me on the vanity, he hauls me off the hard surface and, with a brief kiss, takes the fly of my jeans in his hands and flicks it open. He’s not even looking.
Hooking his thumbs into the waistband at my hips, he pushes my pants down. I step out, and he steps back.
I stand in my red lacy underwear, heart frantic in my chest as his gaze runs the length of my body, darkening further with every inch it moves over me. My skin heats as if he’s physically touching me and I rasp, “Shower.”
“Don’t rush me, baby, I’m taking stock of what perfection looks like.”
Usually, I’d roll my eyes at a statement like that, but with the intensity, the desperation in his eyes, I anchor my gaze to his. Burning alive, I reach for him.
He grabs my wrist, holding it between us. “Torture, remember, Sunshine.”
Oh, I’m so fucked.
The steam curls around us as the space warms up to a heat hotter than under the midday sun, and it has nothing to do with the scorching water blasting from the showerhead.
He loses the boxers and his cock juts up at me.
My mouth turns dry as if it’s the first time I’ve seen him like this.
Opening the shower door, he takes my hand and leads me inside. The heated tile under my feet is bliss after being in boots for hours. My skin could peel off and I’d enjoy it. I’m in heaven, and he hasn’t even touched me yet.
He leans around, adjusting the temperature on the shower before lifting the head from the bracket and handing it to me. “Okay, Little Miss Independent, show me how you make yourself come thinking about me in that little van of yours while you’re away.”
How the?
My grip around the showerhead tightens with the memory of last night. Me, my bed. Hadley all over my pillows, my sheets... How fast I brought myself to climax thinking about this cowboy devouring me. Fucking me.
“Come on, baby. I’ve had to take a walk at least seven times in the three days you’ve been gone. Don’t you tell me I’m the only one this far gone.”
The shallow breaths my lungs barely allow in burn.
