Page 55 of Ride Me Cowboy

He stiffens slightly. “Don’t say it was a mistake.”

I blink up at him. “I wasn’t going to.”

“No?”

I shake my head, something in his question flooding me with warmth. “But I don’t think we should broadcast what we’re doing to anyone else.” Heat flushes my skin. “Not because we’re doing anything wrong, it’s just…”

“I get it,” he says, nodding once. “It’s not anyone’s business but ours, anyway.”

Chapter Sixteen

Cole

WELL, FUCK ME IF walking away from Beth wasn’t just about the hardest thing I’ve ever done. Kissing her goodnight, watching her disappear into the house, then going back to Rowdy, to return him to the stables, damn near killed me. You have no idea how much I wanted to take her to bed with me. To bring her into my room, and make good on the promise I’d given her, to finish what we started.

Waiting’s the right thing to do, though, because no matter how great that all felt in the moment, she’s got a shit ton of emotional baggage to wade through, and there’s no way I’m going to let something happen that she wakes up and regrets.

But, hell. Sleeping after that’s damn near impossible, so I lie in my bed, rolling from one side to the other, with the memory of her sweet, frantic cries flooding my brain. Eventually, I give up on even trying to sleep, take a shower then head back out to the stables, saddling up Beavis—my horse, not named by me. I swear, Rowdy winks at me as I pass him by. I don’t even meanto follow the same path I’d been riding with Beth, but I find myself under that tree, just staring into the distance, replaying the whole night.

Not just making out with her, touching her, feeling her come against my hand, then my mouth, buteverything.What she said to me. How she looked as she told me about her asshole of an ex. The rage that floods me is like a beast: a living, breathing demon inside my chest, and for the first time in my life, I recognize that I’m capable of violence. If the guy wasn’t already dead, I hate to think what I’d do to him.

Men who hurt women—or children—or anyone, for that matter, are scum of the earth. The thought of Christopher laying his hands on Beth, making her life miserable, making her afraid, so that even now, after his death, she’s haunted by what he did to her, twists every part of me with anger.

It stays with me, as we drive the cows a few hours later, across the property, to higher land where the fields are greener. I’m sure Beau notices something’s going on, because I catch him looking at me a few times, like he’s trying to work out how to ask me where my head’s at.

I don’t stick around afterwards to hear it.

I’m beat, but that’s not why I head back to the house. I can’t get Beth out of my mind. I want to check on her. Make sure she’s okay after last night.

No regrets, right?

Please, let her not have regrets.

I throw open the door and glance around. It’s still early, but she’s not in the kitchen, though a coffee pot’s been freshly brewed. I stride to the office, glance inside. No Beth.

Okay. Still in bed.

My cock jumps at that. The thought of her lying there, all luscious, tanned legs and breasts I’ve now felt in my hands, makes me hard, so I adjust myself in my jeans, in the privacy of the kitchen, wincing at how much it almost hurts.

Better take care of that before I see Beth again. There’s no way our first time is going to be anything but long, and slow, and having been celibate for over a year, I’m like a fuse, about to blow.

I fill two mugs with coffee, hesitating for maybe two seconds flat before striding down the hallway, toward Beth’s room.

She wants to keep this on the down low—which is fine by me. Last thing I need is Beau wise-cracking about us. Not because I give a shit about my brother, but because I know Beth would hate it, and after everything she’s been through, I just want her to be able to relax into this.

I knock on her door, wait ‘til I hear a muffled, “Yeah?” and push it inwards.

She’s still in bed, blond hair all mussy, oversized t-shirt flopped down over one shoulder, revealing her perfect skin to my way-too-hungry gaze.

“Hi,” she says, sucking her full lower lip between her teeth, eyes wide, cheeks flushing pink. “What time is it?”

She reaches for her phone before I can answer, picking it up then dropping it back down again.

“Coffee?”

She nods, watching as I stroll toward her, placing one of the mugs down on her bedside table. The room smells like Beth—all sweet and floral. It’s enough to set my pulse thundering through my body.

“How’d you sleep?” I ask, wondering if she’s been tormented all night, like me.

---