Page 5 of Coming Home to My Cowboy
I get into the shower and take my time, trying to scrub my mind as much as I’m scrubbing my body. I wash my hair, do a conditioning treatment while I shave, and pamper myself. Even when I get out, I brush through my hair, rub lotion into myskin, and take my time. It feels like it’s moving too fast and too slow. But considering the mirror’s already un-fogged when I get dressed, I know I’ve taken at least an hour in total. I look at myself in my flannel pajama pants and a comfortable T-shirt, then leave the bathroom. Since my room is still chilly, I turn up the heater and still feel restless.
Clearly, I need something to turn my mind off.
A hot mug of chamomile tea sounds perfect, so I head downstairs to get one started. I hum to myself and start getting things ready when I hear footsteps. Turning suddenly, I find Jace there. He’s shirtless, only wearing pajama pants.
My brain comes to a dead stop. All I can do is stare at him, tracing every single muscle in his body, memorizing how he looks. Walking with purpose, like he owns the kitchen just because he’s in it. The calm my shower gave me is gone. I’m right back to horny and nervous.
“I dropped my things in the guest room. You weren’t around, so I figured you were still getting settled,” he says, voice easy, as if this situation is normal and not slowly melting me into the floor.
He walks by me to prepare a drink, his eyes lingering for just one extra second before he glances at my teabag soaking in the mug.
“Tea’s good for sleep,” he comments with approval that ripples across my body.
“Maybe not as good as other things …” I trail off.
I’m not sixteen anymore, I should have my hormones under control. I was sure that seeing him would end the crush, but looking at his dense, muscular body, his thick arms, all whilehearing obvious praise roll off his tongue has me hot in a way I couldn’t have imagined years ago.
When he reaches for a mug and wraps his fingers around it, all I can imagine is his fingers on my breast, or sliding down my belly, between my thighs and … My whole body is vibrating, sparking with lust and near consuming desire that I only know one way to take care of.
“What do you mean?” he asks, confused despite a spark in his green eyes.
“You know what… I don’t think I need it tonight. Such a long drive. Thanks for staying,” I say quickly before retreating to my room, not wanting to let my thoughts run away with me.
Shutting the door isn’t enough. I don’t think running to the other side of the planet would be enough. I’d still feel his eyes on me. I’d still be tempted to reach out and trace the faint line of his abs across his tight stomach. My mouth would still be watering because of him.
I double check that I’ve locked the door, then lay in bed. I stare at the ceiling, refusing to put on a blanket since I’m sure the cold will help, but instead, the heater’s on full blast, reminding me of how hot Jace’s body is, how easy it would have been to push myself up against him.
The dull ache between my legs pulses with need that I only know how to satisfy myself thanks to porn and plenty of friends in college teasing me about being a virgin. I cup my breast through my shirt first, thinking of Jace’s calloused, dexterous hands.
If he can put an engine back together …
I pinch my nipple and imagine him holding me close. His low, rough voice fills my imagination. “So beautiful, grown up, wonderful.”
I barely swallow my moan, sure that it will give me away. My fantasy twists, it’s not Jace touching me, it’s Jace leaning against my door, ear pressed against the thin wood, touching himself while imagining what I’m doing. Wondering if I’m imagining him touching me instead.
My other hand slides under my pajama pants to tease my clit through my wet panties. The cotton clings to me like a lingering touch and I let out a soft moan. Every stroke of my fingers across my clit nearly drags his name from my soul, my heart, my deepest fantasies.
When I move my panties to the side and let my fingers slip across my wet clit and towards my entrance, I whimper his name. “Jace … please …”
In my fantasy, he pushes the door open to reveal himself stroking his cock. He moves closer, eyes focused on my hand. His raspy voice echoes in my head.“Show me, Layla. Show me everything.”
I kick off my pants, then spread my legs wide, showing him everything, how my fingers slowly push into my pussy and spread, how I like to curl my fingers while rubbing my thumb over my clit. I show him everything until he pushes my hand away and takes over, lowering his head between my legs while watching me with those intense, beautiful green eyes and flattens his tongue across my clit while thrusting his thick fingers so deep.
“Jace!” I barely soften the sound of his name dragging from my throat in a needy groan as I come apart.
I bite my bottom lip as I buck against my hand again and again. When I finally drop back onto the mattress, I’m panting, hotter than ever, and can’t shake off the fantasy. I lick my lips and put my pants back on, sure that sleep is going to be a hollow dream.
Jace is in the house. We’re the only ones here and if he’s going to walk around shirtless and sexy, then maybe … maybe there’s a reason why my crush won’t budge. Maybe I can cross my fingers and claim a Christmas miracle that will put any and every Hallmark movie to shame. Cause if I am already melting after half a day, the next days might finish me off entirely.
Chapter 4 - Jace
Knowing I should go home is one thing, being able to is another. As capable as Layla proves she is when it comes to taking care of common household issues (the washer not turning, the drier bouncing, having to light the stove before cooking since it’s gas), I don’t like the idea of leaving her here alone.
Night eats the world in winter with only a few hours of daylight and picturing her here alone, worried about what might be outside her well-lit home – and she does keep it well lit, since she likes having almost every light on – is something I can’t do. Not when she’s so damn sweet and accommodating.
I get through the night by drinking the tea she abandoned. It’s not bad, but thinking that her lips could taste like this makes it feel like I’m guilty of something terrible. Which is how I end up putting myself to bed in the guest room after checking all the doors.
It takes hours of tossing and turning, breathing in the faint trace of her in the house, hyperaware she is just down the hall, and arguing with myself like that will help. Eventually, exhaustion wins and I fall asleep.
