Page 10

I slipped out of bed as quietly as I could, my hard cock straining uncomfortably against the denim. I made my way to the bathroom on unsteady legs, my body practically vibrating with need and guilt in equal measure. The cold tile floor under my bare feet did nothing to cool the heat that had taken over every inch of me.

I locked the door behind me and leaned against it for a moment, trying to catch my breath. My hands were shaking as I unbuttoned my jeans and shoved them down my thighs. My cock sprang free, flushed and aching, already leaking at the tip.

I turned on the shower, letting the water run hot as I stepped inside. The steam rose up around me, and I wrapped my hand around my shaft, stroking slowly at first. My eyes fell closed as I pictured what I’d been thinking about for years, if I was being honest with myself.

Westley’s hands on me. Westley’s mouth. Westley’s body pressed against mine in ways that went far beyond what best friends were supposed to do.

I pumped my fist faster, my breathing becoming ragged as the fantasy took hold. In my mind, it wasn’t just his cock against my ass anymore. In my mind, he was awake. He wanted this. He wanted me. He was inside me.

“Fuck,” I whispered, my hips thrusting into my own grip as the pressure built at the base of my spine.

I could almost feel the weight of him, the way he’d pin me against the shower wall, the way he’d murmur my name in that low, rough voice of his. The way his hands would grip my hips hard enough to leave marks that I’d have to hide from the rest of the world.

My orgasm hit me faster than I expected, tearing through my body with an intensity that left me gasping. I came hard into my fist, watching the evidence of my lust swirl down the drain along with the shower water.

When it was over, I leaned my forehead against the cool tile and let the water cascade over me, trying to wash away not just the physical evidence of what I’d done, but the shame that always came with it.

This was getting worse. Every day it got harder to be around him without wanting to cross lines that could never be uncrossed. And now, after our last night at the creek, after him holding me like he actually gave a damn about what I was going through...

I didn’t know how much longer I could keep pretending that we were just friends. That what I felt for him was anything less than all-consuming. The time was coming when I’d have to leave Sagebrush just to save our friendship, before I did something stupid I couldn’t take back. I didn’t want to leave him. But staying meant losing him in a different way once I finally slipped up.

Just then I heard a knock on the door. “Save some hot water for me, okay Buttercup?”

It was Westley. Of course it was. My heart raced, my stomach turning at the thought of him hearing me in there, jerking off to the idea of him fucking me up against the shower wall.

“Yeah,” I called back, my voice cracking. I cleared my throat and tried again. “Just a minute.”

I rinsed off quickly, my skin still flushed and sensitive, and shut off the water. The bathroom was thick with steam, and I used a towel to wipe down the mirror before grabbing another one to dry myself off. My reflection stared back at me. Red cheeks, damp hair, and eyes that looked a little too bright for this early in the morning. I looked like a man who’d just been caught doing exactly what I’d been doing.

I wrapped the towel around my waist and cracked open the door. Westley was standing next to the bed in nothing but his jeans, his chest bare and his hair sticking up in about ten different directions. He looked like he’d just barely gotten his jeans on, and the sight of him nearly stopped my heart. It might’ve been my dick talking, but he looked more gorgeous than ever.

“All yours,” I said, keeping my eyes fixed somewhere around his shoulder instead of on his face or his bare chest or the way his jeans sat low on his hips just enough to show off the dark hair that dipped below the waistline.

He yawned and stretched, and I couldn’t help a glimpse of his abs and the way they flexed as he moved. I forced myself to look away before he was done.

“Thanks, Buttercup,” he said, running a hand through his messy hair. “I’m gonna make myself presentable and then we should head downstairs. I can already smell Dolly’s biscuits from up here.”

Of course he could. That diner opened at the ass crack of dawn. The smell of butter and fresh bread and sausage sizzling in cast iron was probably ingrained into the very wood of the building.

“Yeah,” I said, finally forcing myself to look at him. “Sounds good.”

He grinned at me, that easy smile that made my heart do another little flip, and disappeared into the bathroom. I heard the shower turn on a moment later, and I let out a long sigh. He really was becoming too hard to resist. One of these days soon he was going to catch me looking and there would be no explaining my way out of that one.

I got dressed quickly, pulling on clean clothes from my bag. My hands were still trembling slightly as I buttoned my shirt. By the time Westley emerged from the bathroom, looking freshly showered and far too appealing for my own good, I had myself under control barely enough to function.

Once he was dressed, we headed downstairs to the diner, the smell of Dolly’s cooking getting stronger with every step. The place was already bustling with the early morning crowd. They were local ranchers and farmers and the occasional trucker passing through town. But the moment Dolly spotted us, her face lit up like we’d just handed her a winning lottery ticket.

“Well, I’ll be damned!” she exclaimed, coming around from behind the counter with her arms spread wide. She pulled me into a hug first, then Westley, her flour-dusted apron leaving white streaks across our shirts. “Look at you two, here so early in the mornin’! I didn’t know you was comin’!”

“We needed a place to stay for the night,” Westley said, returning her hug with genuine warmth. “Rhett said we could crash in your spare apartment.”

“You don’t mind, do you Aunt Dolly?” I asked, feeling a bit sheepish. “I know you said you weren’t rentin’ it out right now and I’ll be more than happy to clean it for you⁠—”

“Don’t you worry about that,” she grinned, waving me away with those bright red nails of hers. “Hell, I’d let you move in there if you weren’t too damn proud to do it, sugar.”

I felt my cheeks burn at her words, but Dolly was already bustling back toward the kitchen, gesturing for us to follow her to our usual booth by the front window.

“Sit, sit,” she commanded, already pouring coffee into two mugs without asking. “I’m gonna get you boys some real breakfast. None of that gruel you get fed on the ranch.”