Page 70 of Bad Cowboy, Tennessee

No anger.

I could only ask the simplest question I had.

“Why do you have so many rose tattoos?” I asked, still feeling like I was in some drugged daze after I came.

“Only have two,” he said, taking a step back from me and reaching down to rearrange the bulge in his pants.

“Saw one coming up near your hip,” I said. “The other day.”

The image was practically burned into my brain. A beautiful flower with dramatic petals, on the side of his stomach, low near the hip.

“That one is a peony,” he said.

“Sorry. Not exactly a florist.”

“Get back to work,” he told me. “I’m going to come by tomorrow to install a security system for your barn. Can you be up by noon?”

I pulled in a breath of air and had to physically hold back from letting out a loud, frustrated groan.

Get back to work, he’d told me.

Like it was that easy.

Slide my cock inside your perfect fucking mouth, come for you, then just go back to goddamn work?

He’d left me with no more clues into his real world, but with the hottest experience I’d ever had.

I furrowed my brow. “I know I’m a bartender, but I can be up by ten. Also, no, you’re not putting a system on my barn.”

“You need it,” Draven said, looking past me, out toward the bustle of Laurel Ave. “I saw a couple of comments on your latest video talking about Bestens, and your barn is about as safe as a paper bag.”

“Nobody is going to come to my barn,” I protested.

“Then the security system will just be a precaution,” he said, lifting an eyebrow and pinning me with his gaze again. “Where’s the harm in that?”

“Draven,” I said, letting out a breath. “You could at least wait ‘til my cum is gone from your tongue before you start bossing me around again.”

He hummed, his gaze skating over my body, another wave of hunger in his eyes. “You camesoquickly. Really hot, Baby Blue.”

“I’m out of here,” I said, taking off toward the Hard Spot front doors.

If Draven was going to be stubborn, I could be stubborn too.

Chapter 12

Draven

Sometimes I swore it was as if Maxwantedto be stalked.

There was the sign at the edge of his family’s property, for one. A little yellow sign that saidBurnett Family, complete with a little arrow pointing up the beginning of their long dirt driveway.

This morning, the sky was overcast, and their land looked like the windswept plains of some old black-and-white movie, all of the grass gently blowing to one side in the breeze.

I brought my truck to a stop at the entrance to their land, pulling out my phone.

Draven

I’m here. Be awake. Put your clothes on. Or don’t.

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