Fuck it?—
Her teeth chattered. My brain kicked on and I exhaled harshly. With my arm banded around her waist, I lifted her off her feet and walked us both onto herporch, with her muddy toes kicking me in the shins. “Inside. Now.”
She laughed as I set her down. “All right, caveman. I need to shower before I head to the lodge to make your breakfast, anyway.”
My breakfast—for me and a dozen other cowboys. But the way she said it made it feel more intimate. Like her effort was for me alone. Maybe I was a caveman because damn, that sounded good.
I waited for her to gather her shoes and coat. She sent me a look over her shoulder, like she was trying to figure out what I was still doing there.
“You look like you could use a hot shower yourself,” she said.
I turned and walked away so I wouldn’t take that as an invitation. The rain kept coming down as I stalked to the lodge, but I didn’t feel a single drop of it. Holly was at the front desk when I pushed through the double doors.
She arched her eyebrows at me. “Coffee?”
“Shower,” I said shortly and made for the stairs that lead to my living quarters on the top floor.
The moment the door clicked shut behind me, I pressed my hands to my face and hollered into them. It didn’t do a damn thing to ease the frustration. I kicked off my boots and fought my way out of my overcoat like it was a wrestling match and I was losing. Agitationmade me clumsy, and I slammed my shoulder into the doorjamb on my way to the bathroom.
Fucking hell. I didn’t even know what temperature to set the shower. My skin was cold, but I felt like I was burning up inside. I flipped the knob to the middle, stripped off my flannel and jeans, and got in. The spray hit my skin and all I could think about was Lennon slick with rain. I slapped the knob, spinning it to as hot as it could go. Maybe it could scald the image of her from my brain.
Her wet mouth. The shape of her nipples. The glint in her eyes when she asked if I wanted to play.Fuck—fuck. I turned around so the spray hit me in the shoulder blades, then turned around again. If I stopped moving for even a second, I’d?—
My hand gripped my cock before my brain could finish that thought. For a moment, I paused. Tried to talk myself out of it. It had been a long time since I’d done this—I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d needed to. I’d always treated it like stress relief. Clear my head, settle my gut before a mission. Lust had never factored into it.
But this…I couldn’t pretend this was about anything buther.
Fuck it. I was doing it anyway.
I let my hand move, let it slide up my shaft as I remembered her tongue licking the raindrop from her lip, let it pump a little faster as I imagined that tonguelickingme. I didn’t hold back my groan as I pictured her on her knees, looking up at me with those big doe eyes. Her breasts bare and bouncing as she worked me with that luscious mouth.
But I wouldn’t come there. Not in her mouth. I wanted—fucking hell, what had this woman awakened in me with all her talk about facials? Tightening my grip, I tried to think of anything else. But I swiped my thumb over the tip, felt the moisture beading there, and couldn’t stop.
I wanted to paint her with my cum. I wanted to watch it hit her puffy lips, her throat, her breasts. I wanted her to lick my cum from her lips like the raindrop, and then lick me clean, too.
My hand moved faster, my hips jerking. I came so fucking hard I splashed the tile with it. I fell forward on a roar, my hand slapping the wall. My chest heaved as I caught my breath from a full-body orgasm that had been unlike anything I’d ever experienced before in my life.
Slowly, my breathing steadied. My heartbeat slowed to its regular beat. The hot water felt good on my neck and shoulders, my back and its thick scars.
I flipped the faucet to cold.
9
LENNON
“Smells good, Graves.”Mateo bumped my shoulder with his as he heaped his plate with food. “You made all this for us?”
“Amos made the eggs, and Cecily made the biscuits. I just did the bacon.”
I didn’t tell him that I had burned the first batch to an inedible degree while daydreaming about a certain cowboy wrapping me up in his coat. Amos would have banished me from his kitchen, but Cecily had reminded him that Miguel hadn’t shown up for his shift today, so they were still short on help, and anyway, the pigs would be happy to eat the bacon. The idea of pigs eating their friends made my stomach turn, so I promised I’d eat the burnt bacon myself, even if it took all week.
Mateo took a bite, chewed, and then added two more pieces to his towering plate. “Perfect.”
He pushed his glasses up his nose with his knuckle and grinned at me wide enough for his dimples to pop out. Then he took his plate and sat down on the stool leaning against the welcome desk, where Holly was already seated with her own full plate, and that weird chicken in her lap. There was something protective about the way they sat shoulder to knee. Who was protecting who, I wondered.
Of all the cowboys who weren’t Jeremiah, Mateo was my favorite. He reminded me of a cross between a golden retriever and a border collie. Outgoing and energetic, a little goofy, hella smart. One of the nicest and friendliest people I’d ever met. Not that Jeremiah was rude or mean, because he wasn’t—even though I had given him plenty of reasons to be.
Jeremiah was…contained. Reserved. Protective in a way that I should have found overbearing and annoying, but honestly? It feltgood. No one had ever taken care of me like that before. No one had ever wrapped me in their own coat like my comfort might be more important than theirs. Certainly not my mother, who had always been the child in our relationship, or the men who had paid for my time. Not even Benny, who had been the best of them.
