Page 94 of Bad Cowboy, Tennessee

Filthy little angel.

And every bit a man.

Reality slowly settled in around me as my breath and my heart rate returned to something closer to normal.

I’d given him something. Some small part of me.

Often, after I came, a new sense of clarity washed over me: I’d be ready to reset, to be alone, to politely end the evening with whoever I’d hooked up with. With other people, I never had this sensation that I’d… given somethingaway,by coming inside them.

What the fuck do you do to me, Max Burnett?

He was standing up now, his skin covered in a thin sheen of sweat.

“So, do you finally think it’s okay for me to go home?” Max asked idly, running his fingers through his hair. “Or do you think Mr. Scary Penis Man Stalker is going to be there to show me his cock, or something?”

I frowned at him. “You’re joking, right?”

“No.”

“Of course you’re not going home,” I said, standing up and moving toward the house. “You’re spending the night here.”

Chapter 15

Max

Draven had never seemed like a very cuddly person, and being in his bed was no different.

He may as well have taken a strip of duct tape along the center of his king-sized bed, marking a line which he didn’t want either of us to cross. Like two kids forced to share a room, stuck together, at odds.

Earlier, I’d draped a leg over too close onto “his side,” and he’d gently shoved it away, turning to the other side and facing away from me.

So much for pillow talk.

Apparently, he was plenty fine with calling mebeautifulwhile he face-fucked me, but my goddamn shin touching his knee in bed was strictly forbidden.

Infuriating fucking cowboy.

I pulled in a slow breath, watching the slanted shadows coming in across the wall, dim evening light filtering in from the slats in the blinds. Draven’s sheets were premium and softer than anything I’d ever felt, and the mattress was the perfect amount of firmness, but…

I couldn’t sleep.

I couldn’t fuckingtryto sleep.

My body was comfortable, but my mind was spinning like a top.

Normally I prided myself on being an excellent sleeper, and I’d always bragged about being able to nod off within five minutes and snooze like a baby.

Tonight that wasn’t going to happen.

My asshole was still sore, for one, aching a little from when Draven had pushed the tip of that second finger inside me, without any warning or any lube. We’d rinsed off after we got back inside, and he’d brought his soap-lathered fingertips to my hole again in the shower, stroking over it gently.

Now, thinking of that an hour later in bed, my cock was slowly chubbing up again.

Fuck.

I turned over, facing toward Draven’s side of the bed.

All I got was an eyeful of his back. He was facing the other direction, toward the opposite wall. Above the line of his satiny grey sheets, the top of his back peeked out.

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