Page 21 of Owned By The Cowboy
“Jaylen!”
“What? I’m fifteen, not blind.”
“That’s disgusting,” Nia says. “Don’t talk about Mom like that.”
“I wasn’t being gross about it. I’m just saying maybe he likes her. And maybe that’s why he said yes to the dance thing.”
My cheeks are burning, but I try to keep my voice casual. “Blayne was just being kind. That’s the kind of man he is.”
“If you say so,” Jaylen replies, but there’s doubt in his voice.
The rest of the drive home is thankfully quiet, but I can’t stop thinking about what Jaylen said. About the way Blayne looked at me tonight. About tomorrow afternoon and getting my hands on his body…
Getting the kids ready for bed takes forever. Annalise is too excited about the dance to settle down, Nia wants to discuss every detail of starting at a new school tomorrow, and Jaylen keeps asking if we have the right kind of notebooks for his classes.
“Annalise, go brush your teeth,” I repeat for the third time. “Nia, pick out your clothes for tomorrow. Jaylen, yes, you have the right notebooks.”
“But what if…”
“Honey, you have the right notebooks,” I repeat firmly. “And if you don’t, we’ll figure it out.”
By the time I finally get Annalise tucked in, after reading three stories and promising that yes, she can tell her new teacher about the father-daughter dance, it’s after nine o’clock.
Nia’s already in bed with a book, and Jaylen’s in his room with his headphones on, probably texting with his friends back in San Francisco.
Finally, finally, I have the house to myself.
I make myself a cup of tea and sink into the couch, trying to process everything that happened tonight. Blayne agreed to take Annalise to the dance. Blayne, who’s been avoiding me for years, voluntarily signed up to spend an evening with my daughter. And tomorrow, I get to measure him for a suit.
The thought sends heat spiraling through me. His broad shoulders, his strong arms, the way he looked at me when I mentioned the fitting. Like he was thinking about my hands on him just as much as I was.
I take a long sip of tea and let myself imagine it. Standing close enough to feel his body heat, running the tape around his chest, his waist. Maybe letting my fingers linger a little longer than necessary. Maybe looking up to find him watching me with those pale blue eyes…
By the time I head to bed, I’m wound tight with anticipation and something that feels dangerously close to horniness.
I lie in bed staring at the ceiling, but I can’t stop thinking about the way he looked at me earlier. How his presence seemed to fill the entire room. How his voice got rough when he agreed to let me take his measurements.
My skin feels too tight, too warm. I kick off the covers and try to focus on something else, anything else, but my mind keeps drifting back to him. Those big, callused hands that were so gentle with my sewing machine. I wonder what they’d feel like on my body, wonder if they’d be gentle with me too, or if all that restraint I see in him would finally snap.
I close my eyes and let myself imagine it. His hands skimming over my shoulders, down my arms. His mouth on my neck, my collarbone. The weight of him pressing me down into the mattress.
Before I realize what I’m doing, my hand is sliding down my stomach, slipping under the waistband of my sleep shorts. I’malready wet, already aching, and when I touch myself, I bite my lip to keep from making any sound that might wake the kids.
I think about tomorrow, about running my hands over his chest, feeling the solid muscle under the fabric. About standing close enough to count his eyelashes, close enough that if he wanted to…
The thought of kissing him, of finding out if his mouth is as delicious as it looks, sends a wave of pleasure shooting through me. I imagine his hands pulling me against him until there’s no space left between us. Making me feel how hard he is for me.
My breathing grows faster as I work myself, running my middle finger through my slit, gathering my wetness from my pussy entrance, all the way up to my clit, and rolling, pressing. Pinching my nipples alternately. Chasing the release that’s been building all evening. I picture Blayne’s face, the way he looked at me across the dinner table, the way his voice went rough when he said my name.
When I come, it’s with his name on my lips, whispered so quietly I can barely hear it myself. My fingers stuffed deep inside my wet, swollen heat.
Afterward, I lie there feeling wrecked and more than a little embarrassed. It’s been years since I’ve made myself come thinking about anyone, and the fact that it was Blayne should probably worry me more than it does.
But as I drift off to sleep, all I can think about is tomorrow afternoon and the excuse I’ll have to be all over his sexy body.
* * *
“Mom! I can’t find my backpack!” Nia’s voice carries from her bedroom at exactly seven AM, officially ending any hope I had of a peaceful morning.
