Chapter 13 - Chase Me, Cowboy

I shower, then, wrapped up in a bachelor towel, I go through all his cabinets to see if he brings other women here. It’s empty: a single bottle of shampoo, face wash, moisturizer, and men’s lotion next to the hand soap. There’s a box between the two sinks. I open it, and inside sits a razor and some shaving accessories. There’s no sign of anything remotely feminine. I snap it shut. Good, I might not be his, but it would still annoy me if he was sleeping around. I dry my hair and open the door long enough to drag my bag through, then slam it without looking at him.

Being polite to him while I’m here isn’t a priority.

I don’t have to make him like me. Honestly, I don’t give a fuck if he does. So I spread my things out on the sink and start my post-shower moisturizing routine. Pretty soon, everything smells like sugar and vanilla. Luckily, I marinated in tanner last night. It made my legs look amazing; I do a turn in my shortest pair of lounge shorts. Over them, I on a skimpy little top with a pink heart stretched across my boobs. If he wants me here, I’m gonna make him suffer.

He’s been thinking about me, that much is obvious.

Still, all I want to do is fight him. If he wanted me, why didn’t he pick up his phone and text me? I was literally at his fingertips. Sure, we fought the entire time we fucked the first time around, but it was also the best sex he’d ever had. I can tell; it was all over his face, too, when he shoved his enormous dick inside me.

Whatever.

Fucking whatever.

I leave the bathroom to find the bedroom empty. He has to be in the kitchen; everything smells faintly of something cooking. I follow the scent and find him looking very good in a pair of gray sweatpants by the stove, sausage frying in a cast-iron skillet.

“Why’d you put your clothes on?” he says.

I shrug. “I’m not sure we’re close enough that I’ll run around your house naked.”

“But you’ll let me fuck you.”

“Yep.”

He turns the heat down low and puts the lid on. “You want coffee? Wine?”

I consider. “What are you having?”

“Bourbon.”

“Ew.” I wrinkle my nose. “I’ll have wine. Rosé, please.”

He disappears through a door beside the fridge and comes out with a bottle, dusting it off and reaching for the wine corker.

“You have a wine cellar?”

“Yep.”

“God, you’re such a rich asshole.”

He pours a glass of wine, handing it over. “And you’re a spoiled brat. Pot, meet kettle.”

I gasp. “I am not.”

His brow arches, a full answer in and of itself. Without asking, he grabs me around the waist with his big, dumb hands and lifts me on the counter.

“Sit here, stop being a brat,” he says.

“You’re only making this harder for yourself,” I snap.

He goes to the fridge, glancing back. “Or what? You’re gonna suck my dick even harder later? Come on, you love a good hate-fuck, and you know it.”

“Just call me a crazy bitch, Jesus Christ.”

He comes back with a bottle of water and sets it down. “Crazy bitch.”

“Arrogant asshole.”

He points at me briefly. “You are correct, sweetheart.”

I set my wine aside, glancing at his groin. He’s a shower, not a grower, and the sight of it hanging there beneath the fabric drives me wild. He comes to stand between my knees. I could kiss him or slap him; either would work. Instead, he puts his hands on my thighs and runs them all the way up until his fingertips slip beneath my shorts.

“No panties,” he says.

“What’s the point?”

One hand slides around and dips between my thighs. The back of his finger runs over my pussy and up to my clit, over my shorts. His lids fall. I can’t tear my eyes from his face, entranced by the way he’s so zeroed in.

“I think we’re at the point where you can be naked,” he says.

I don’t speak. He curls his fingers around my waistband, slowly, I think to give me time to say no. Then, he pulls them down my thighs and works my shirt off. It’s vulnerable, being fully naked in his kitchen, my ass on his countertop. It’s also incredibly arousing, especially while he’s still clothed. Gently, he presses me back to my elbows and spreads my thighs apart.

“Goddamn,” he says.

I swallow. Nobody has ever looked at me this way. With two fingers, he explores my pussy like he’s afraid he’ll hurt me. So gently, with dedicated interest. It’s an oddly arousing experience. More vulnerable than I’ve ever been with anyone—including him.

“You look really good naked,” he says finally.

“Spoken like a man.”

“No.” He shakes his head. “You always have your guard up. When you’re naked, you let it fall a little bit.”

He’s not wrong. It’s been a long time since I haven’t used a blasé attitude and shoving down my feelings as armor. Maybe my whole life, since Mom and Dad split, since I grew up certain that I was the biggest burden on my sister, but not knowing what to do about it. Everywhere I look, it’s a perfect painting, and then there’s me, like a monster on the sidelines. Watching normal people do normal things. So yes, he’s right. My walls are always up, and that’s just how it is.

It’s better than being hurt.

He dips his head. I put my palm on his forehead.

“Don’t lick that.”

He looks up. “Why?”

“Because you need to feed me first. Then, you may have dessert.”

He sighs, planting his hands on either side of my body. He’s so grumpy this evening, especially for a man who just got laid. That bothers me, as someone who’s good at making other people happy. How hard do I have to fuck him to get him to relax? Probably all night. Poor me.

He pulls back. I sit up, but don’t reach for my clothes.

“You like your eggs fried or scrambled?” He takes the sausages out and piles them on a plate, reaching for a carton of eggs.

“Scrambled. With cheese.”

“Coming right up, princess.”

I know he’s trying to push my buttons, but deep down, I love it. I watch him plate the food, thinking hard. Maybe I can get him to call me princess when his head is between my thighs later. I want to hear it with his tongue on my pussy and my fingers tangled in his hair.

“Let’s eat on the porch,” he says.

I follow him upstairs and through a lounge area with an inset living space, which is the first I’ve ever seen outside of film. The entire far wall is glass, looking out over a flat patio with more glass for walls. At the center is a clear blue pool. He holds open the door, and I hesitate.

“I’m naked,” I say.

“Nobody will see you. I promise.”

The thought of him seeing me naked, in the dwindling sunlight, makes my emotions run in two different directions. Embarrassed and aroused. I look good, but I’ve never been this exposed before. So I go outside, knowing he’s looking at my naked ass go by. The door slams, and he sets the food on the ground at the edge of the pool. I sink down, dipping my legs into the water. He takes off his sweats, and surprisingly, he’s wearing boxer briefs underneath. Albeit very thin ones. He sits beside me and pushes my plate closer.

“Eat.”

I do, picking up a sausage and biting the end. Overhead, the sky is a deep blue, and everything smells faintly of salt. I inhale, taking a beat to let my pattering heart slow. When I glance over, he’s almost done.

“Uh, maybe slow down there.”

He puts the plate down. “Got a workout in. Need to fuel up for another.”

“Oh yeah?”

He gives me an up-and-down stare. “Yeah, hurry up.”

I shake my head, having another bite. It’s a lot warmer up on the porch. Maybe because he’s so far north, the boards reflect the heat. Thinking about how I’m on the coast of Maine gets me thinking about back home and what went on the last time we were both there together. I glance sideways at him again. He’s gazing up, propped on the heels of his palms.

“Why did you do it?” I ask.

My heart is thumping.

“Do what?” He doesn’t turn.

“Fuck me and leave.”

He’s quiet, then clears his throat. “Because we were hooking up. We both knew that.”

He’s right, but he’s also being avoidant.

“I’d believe that if I weren’t here right now,” I say. “Because you texted me.”

His jaw works. “I did.”

“Why?” My voice breaks. I didn’t want it to.

“Because I want you, and I can’t stop thinking about wanting you.”

His honesty shocks me. My heart soars, and my stomach flip-flops. That was clear from how desperate his text was, and how hard he fucked me, but I needed to hear it out loud.

“Then why ignore me all year?” I say finally.

“Because you are too young for me, and I don’t want you tangled up in my work.”

Now, I don’t love that honesty. It’s blunt, and his tone is flat. However, there is a part of me, way below my pride, that understands what he’s saying. It was one thing for Sabrina and Coen, though that wasn’t an easy path, either, but I’m even younger. I’ve googled Jamie’s age, and I was about right; he’s thirty-seven soon. Which makes him a —not a good sign in my opinion.

“You can’t stop thinking about me, either,” he says finally.

“Why do you say that?”

“Because you came when I asked.”

I clear my throat, watching the blue water ripple. “Maybe we can just fuck it out and forget.”

The thought kills me. But it’s possible we can fuck until we start fighting. Maybe he can make me hate him—really, truly hate him. That would help. Because, right now, I want to climb into his lap, take his face in my hands, and kiss him slowly so I can feel him get hard between my legs. It’s not even in a lustful way. More of a lazy Sunday morning feeling, the desire to spend time with him, to discover him.

That’s a rapid change from earlier.

“Maybe,” he says.

“At the end of it, we can get in a really big fight, and I’ll go back to my mom’s house.”

The corner of his mouth turns up.

“Yeah, that’d be okay.”

Even though I’m upset, I eat a little more food before giving him the picked-over plate. He pushes both plates aside and shifts closer. His rough palm touches my face, turning me. I half expect him to kiss me gently. Instead, he kisses me like he’s ready to start fucking it out right now. Parting my lips and grazing his tongue against mine. Then, he slides his other arm around me and pushes us into the water.

I yelp, clinging to him. He doesn’t let me go under, holding me in the crook of his massive forearm.

“Can we pretend to like each other?” he asks.

“I don’t know. Can we?”

Beneath the water, his free hand strokes over my bare stomach and down between my legs. It’s getting late, and faint stars are coming out overhead. My head falls back, and my eyes find each bright spark.

“I’m gonna try,” he says.

“Maybe I can, performance dependent.”

“Oh?”

He leans in and kisses my neck. I shiver as his teeth skim my skin. We’re floating in a slow circle, and with the enormous sky overhead, it’s the most relaxed I’ve been in years. Like a sensory deprivation tank, except I have a gorgeous man touching my pussy at the same time.

“Let’s go inside and find out,” he murmurs.