***
Horse
Horse peeled the bandage off and studied the neat line of tiny stitches holding his skin together. Glenna had indicated she’d been the one to treat his wound, and he had no memory of anything different.
The question was why?
Why hadn’t she called an ambulance to cart his ass off to the hospital?
Why had she kept him in her home, a man she didn’t know from Adam, and had nothing but her intuition to tell her he wasn’t a threat?
Why hadn’t she insisted he leave as soon as he was awake and mobile?
And what was it about her that he found so intriguing?
She was gorgeous, but he’d met plenty of good-looking women through the years.
She was kind, but that wasn’t something he typically based an attraction on.
And he couldn’t deny there was a deep, simmering attraction. Every interaction with her piqued his interest even further, until he’d been half a second away from bending her over his arm and kissing the hell out of her.
Even with Marian, the fondness had grown through the years. It hadn’t been an immediate sizzle, like he’d grabbed hold of a live wire, the desire arcing through his body. And when her preference had become clear, he’d missed the possibility more than ached for them as a couple.
The fuck’s wrong with my head?
He looked down at his dick, swiping a hand up the hard length.
“You don’t have a say in a damn thing, so don’t get any ideas, asshole.”
Trying to ignore his erection, he turned on the water in the shower, retrieving a towel from where she’d said they would be. Flipping through the clothing, he wondered again why she had it. From what she’d said, her husband had been dead for a while. It didn’t track that she’d have held on to worn jeans and sweatpants. The socks looked new, and the briefs were still in the package, but other than the shirt, everything else had been worn by her husband. Her dead husband.
Hope it won’t jack with her seeing me in his clothing.
Pushing that thought away, he stepped into the shower, groaning as the hot water sluiced over sore muscles. He had a muddled memory of the bike as a mess, forks and handlebars bearing the brunt of the ride through the ditch and the fence.
“Rebuilt it once. I can rebuild it again.” He hoped there would be enough left to rebuild. “I’ll call the old man back east, see what Medric thinks the options are.”
Tipping his head back, he ran rough fingers over his head, scrubbing at his hair and beard. With his eyes closed, the scene running through his head wasn’t the wreck. No, what he saw on a loop in his mind was the way Glenna had gotten adorably flustered, unable to keep her eyes away from the bare sections of flesh exposed by his makeshift wardrobe. Horse had felt the weight of her gaze like a touch, grazing across his chest, arms, and everything else bared to view.
She didn’t hate the view, that’s for sure.
Horse chuckled at himself, still trying to ignore the insistence of his throbbing cock.
“She saved your ass, son. Better keep the respect on display so she don’t throw you out middle of the night.”
The shampoo he picked up from the shower shelf did the job but had the side effect of filling the shower with the scent of the woman.
“Leave her alone, man.”
Ignoring his own advice, Horse gave up and slipped one hand down his abs, cuffing his cock in a grip that was unyielding. Muscles tensed, he leaned a forearm against the side of the shower, letting his fingers wander while his mind did the same. He imagined Glenna, hair tousled from bed, leaning over him so the scent of her engulfed him. The heated water became the touch of her mouth on his neck. A nail flicking across his nipple where her naughty fingers tweaked gently. His hand shuttling back and forth on his cock was her body slipping and sliding across him. The first burst of his climax a ghost of the heat her body would hold.
Breathing heavily, Horse opened his eyes in time to watch the last of his spunk swirl down the drain and disappear. His cock hung heavily along his thigh, and his balls throbbed demandingly, as if he hadn’t just come his brains out merely thinking about fucking her.
“You’re in trouble now, son.”
He tended to agree with his own assessment of things.
***