Page 21 of CowSex
She frowns as if she’s thinking about it.
“Just my bum, back, and arm as far as I remember.”
“You take a look out of your window?”
“No, why? What’ve I missed?”
“Darling, we had about four feet of snow overnight. You won’t be going anywhere. Not today and probably not tomorrow or the day after, either.”
I watch as her mouth opens and closes a few times before her posture changes. Her shoulders straighten, and she smiles. “Guess you got lucky then, Cowboy. You get to spend the next few days with me. First things first, though, what’s for dinner, I’m fucking Hank Marvin.”
I inwardly smile at the way she so casually drops the F-bomb and try to figure out what the hell she just said.
“You’re what?”
“Hank Marvin.”
“Strange name for a girl and I’m pretty sure Nelson called you Ms Elliott last night.”
She folds her arms over her chest and gives me a smile. She has a dimple in her left cheek. I noticed the one in her chin last night but not the one in her cheek. It’s also kinda cute. My dick agrees.
“Hank Marvin ain’t my name.” She moves towards me and holds her left hand out. “It’s Grace, Gracie Elliott. Pleased to meet you.”
“So, who’s Hank? I know that name—Hank Marvin—who is that?”
“Hank Marvin—starving. It just means that I’m hungry.”
“So why the fuck didn’t you just say that?”
“I did.”
I’m bewildered.
“So you gonna feed me, or what, Cowboy?”
She spins around and heads towards my fridge. “What ya got in here that I can make a sarnie with?” I’m about to ask when she looks over her shoulder and explains, “A sarnie is a sandwich.”
I nod, even though I don’t understand, which reminds me of something she said last night. A few things she said in fact.
“Let me get this straight, you’re English, right?
“Sure am.”
“And in England, you call a sandwich a sarnie, and when you’re hungry, you say that you’re Hank Marvin.”
She turns back around to face me, drinking from a bottle of water she’s helped herself to. Her head’s tilted back, exposing the creamy skin covering her throat.
I’m a guy, so of course, I stare. I also take note of the way her lips wrap around the bottle, the way she swallows, and maybe even the way she licks her lips while looking right at me once she’s finished drinking.
“Not everyone says that, but where I come from, we do, or at least if I did say it, everyone would know what I was on about.”
“So, what’s a Scooby, apart from a cartoon dog? And who are Kip and Bill?”
She bites down on her bottom lip, which I don’t find as sexy as all hell. No, sir. Not. At. All.
“You said last night that you didn’t have a Scooby, that you needed Kip and you called for Old Bill.”
She blinks a few times before a smile lights up her face, evolving into a full-on, head thrown back laugh. When she looks back at me, she’s wiping tears from under her eyes.
