Total pages in book: 50
Estimated words: 48446 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 242(@200wpm)___ 194(@250wpm)___ 161(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 48446 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 242(@200wpm)___ 194(@250wpm)___ 161(@300wpm)
“You heard me and Brett talking earlier, didn’t you?”
I nodded.
He took a breath. “I’m sorry. That was rude. I mean, I’ll still ask Cyrus out once you’re gone, but for now, I’m leaving in the morning. I can’t compete with the whole orphaned-cowboy bullshit.”
I moved to walk around him.
“It’s crap, though.”
I stopped and looked at him.
“You don’t leave a man who looks like that, or works that job, or has the financial portfolio he has. You just don’t. You keep thinking you can ride off and he’ll be here when you get back each time, and that’s idiotic. You should not even have a choice. A man like you, lacking in prospects and everything else, where do you get off even being here or—”
Someone gasped, and we both looked to the end of the hall, where the sound had come from. Cy was standing in the bedroom doorway, wrapped in a big, fluffy brown robe, hair tousled, bare feet poking out from under flannel pajamas.
Ross exhaled—probably relieved that Cy didn’t appear to have heard what he said to me. “Hi, Cyrus.”
Cy forced a smile, and then his eyes flicked to me. “Web?”
Dear God.
Really, you would have had to be blind to miss the open joy on the man’s face or the carnal heat in his eyes. He licked his lips, clenched his jaw, and took a deep breath. No doubt about it, the man liked me just a little bit.
“Are you coming to bed?”
“Right now,” I assured him, striding down the hall fast, brushing against his robe on my way into the room, and hearing him call out a good-night to Ross before closing and locking our door. I turned to face him. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“Wantin’ me instead of the guy who’s better for you.”
He shook his head.
“It’s true,” I said, rushing him, hands on his face, tipping it up, smashing my mouth down over his, kissing him deep but slowly, gently, not hard, finally alone with him and loving it.
“Oh God, Weber, you’re the only one who’s good for me.”
We didn’t fall on the bed; we sort of sank into it, collapsed, and continued making love with our mouths. And I wanted to attack him or have him ravage me, but I just could not for the life of me stop kissing him.
First I was on top and he was under me, and then he pushed up and I was rolled to my back. He started plundering my mouth, and the pace changed, got frantic as he bit me and I sucked on his tongue. His moan was so sexy, and I was so hard and just certain, down-to-the-depths-of-my-soul certain, that if I didn’t get my hands on his bare skin, I was going to die.
“God, I fuckin’ hate you,” he whispered, the words hot on my face.
I put him flat on his back and found myself staring into turbulent brown eyes. “Cy?”
“You belong to me, and you know that.”
I sighed deeply. “Cy, we’ve been over—”
“What is so wrong with letting me stake you in a business?”
“Doing what?”
“I don’t know. Whatever you want. I could sponsor you, and you could—”
“No, sir,” I said, rolling onto my back, staring at the ceiling. “My body can’t rodeo no more. I may be stupid, but I ain’t suicidal. I’ll find a ranch where I can—”
“I don’t want you on a ranch somewhere in Texas! I want you right here!”
I turned over, moving farther away from him, and went facedown into the pillow. Fighting was not what I wanted to do. This was what happened the last time, and I remembered his ultimatum, how angry he’d been, trembling with rage, furious at himself and his tears, livid that I had any power over him at all.
I was smart enough to know that it was the power he’d given me that he resented, and didn’t, at the same time. The fact was, he loved me. I felt that in every word, kiss, and touch. But because he loved me and cared so deeply, I alone had the power to hurt him with my absence. It was never my intention to hurt him or hold that power over him, but really, what choice did I have?
“This was a mistake,” I muttered. “I’m so sorry, Cy. Just when the damn thing was healin’, I show up and tear off the bandage and make it start to bleed all over again.”
He was silent, and I cursed myself for saying anything.
“Weber.” He growled my name, surprising me with his body on mine, pinning me under him to the bed. “Did you ever think that the only thing you’re supposed to do is just love me?”
I went still because wanting me around was one thing, but love was a whole other undertaking. We had never, ever spoken about or brought up the concept, much less the word. Jesus.