Page 39 of Rough Cowboy
I don’t know why that bothers me as much as it does. I ignore it and try to focus on the film. During another jump scare, the front door flies open. Silver rushes into the house.
I’m screaming.
Sammy’s laughing.
The television is blaring a loud murderous scene.
“What the fuck is going on? It sounds like bloody murder.”
“Movie night.” I don’t miss the possessive way Sammy lifts my feet onto his lap.
“You two scared the shit out of me.” He tosses his Stetson on the coffee table and scrubs his hands over his face.
“What did you think was happening?” Sammy chuckles. “I was muttering her?”
“Or the other way around,” I counter. “I could’ve been murdering you.”
“I thought something happened to the baby.” Silver’s concern hushes us both.
Only then do I pay attention to the panic written across his face.
“The baby is fine, Silver.” I brush aside the blanket and smooth my hands over the flannel bulge of my pajama-covered middle. “We’re good.”
He sighs and collapses on the overstuffed chair. “Good.” He kicks off his boots and digs his fingers in his closed eyes before focusing on the television. “It’s been forever since I’ve had a movie night.”
“Because you choose to grind at the bar.” I regret the words once they’re out of my mouth.
Old habits die hard.
While he’s worked at keeping his distance, I’ve worked hard at keeping my tongue in check.
A twinkle of lust flashes in his eyes, and in the same instant, it’s gone.
“It’s almost over,” Sammy says, on the sharp side.
I barely notice when his fingers wrap around my bare feet, and his thumb moves in the arch of my foot in light strokes.
“I don’t mind.” Silver rests his ankle on his knee, and damned if it’s not the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.
Apparently, two weeks still isn’t enough time for me to rid my strong sexual desire for him.
It would’ve helped if Sammy had stayed mad at me longer for sneaking around behind his back. Instead, he’s pretending like it never happened.
Sammy’s thumb kneads my flesh, and my body melts into the sofa. The movie becomes a distant noise. I feel my insides begin to unwind in a wonderfully satisfying way. My nerves loosen. My eyes start to drift shut, and sleep beckons me.
“Does that feel good?” Sammy drags his thumb down the length of my foot.
“Oh my lord, it feels so good. I could have an orgasm right here.”
I’m joking—to an extent. I have a foot fetish that Sammy has no idea about, but Silver, he knows how much I love his mouth wrapped around my toes. My statement was one hundred percent directed at him.
“An orgasm from Sammy’s foot massage?” I try not to smile, knowing how damn jealous he must be, but screw him for being a dick for the last two weeks, and the entire baby-daddy reveal.
I moan. “Yes, yes, yes.” I’m baiting him as we do—like we used to do. Bait and tease and argue and bang—old habits.
Sammy chuckles and continues massaging.
“Let me try.” Silver is up and swinging my legs to the end of the chaise where he sits. He rests my feet on his lap and reaches over me.
