Page 44 of Rough Cowboy
I curse.
“I’m trying to prove to myself that I don’t need your touch to find pleasure.”
“And?”
“And what?”
“Are you proving yourself right?”
“Whenever I close my eyes, your idiotic face pops into my head. So no, not really.”
“If it makes you feel better, I haven’t been able to get you out of my head, and for whatever fucking reason, I have no interest in grinding or fucking a single woman at Bucky’s bar.”
“Poor baby, you haven’t had sex in two weeks. I have a blue clit. Or pink pussy. Or a turquoise taco. Whatever you want to call it. I haven’t had sex since you.”
The admission turns me on. My dick comes to life behind my jeans for the first time in weeks—months, if I’m honest.
“I’m right here.” I take a step inside the bathroom.
“That was not an invitation.”
I stop. “Wasn’t it?”
Her lips purse, and her eyebrows dip together. “I’m still mad at you.”
“I’m mad at myself for every word I’ve said that’s hurt you. But I miss you, Els.”
“I don’t want foreplay talk. Do you want to bang or write a love poem? I have no interest in the latter.”
She’s acting cool and distant, but I saw the flash of relief in her eyes. A moment of what we are together.
I rip my shirt over my head and in a few large strides, I plunge into the claw foot tub, denim and all.
Chapter Nine
SILVER
