Page 134 of Wrangled

Perfect end to a wonderful scene, and an amazing vacation, one that promised so much more to come—provided we could make it work.

I was determined to give it one hundred percent. I didn’t want to lose this—to lose him.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Robert

I opened my eyes and stretched. I loved a Shibari scene once things started getting tight. Yes, there was the hug, but I associated that sensation with being an extension of Toby, knowing he was transforming my body into a work of his art, his design. I willingly gave myself into his control because I knew, instinctively, the result would be beautiful.

And because his hands on my skin? Hot as fuck.

Toby lay next to me on his back, still sleeping. He seemed to be dreaming, and it was obviously a good dream—his dick twitched, jerking up from his belly. The temptation to take that firm head into my mouth was huge, but I pushed it aside.

Not without permission.

I had to admit, when it came to rope, Toby was way better than Kevin. The rope harness didn’t look all that different to when Kevin had done it, but the way he’d applied it, the continuous stimulation, nothing overtly sexual but everything conspiring to heighten my arousal.

And yet…

Yes, it had been an amazing scene.So why do I feel so fucking low?

Toby stirred, and I froze. When it became clear he wasn’t about to wake up, I eased out of the bed as carefully as I could. I needed to think, and I couldn’t do that when he provided such a delicious distraction. I grabbed a pair of sweats and a tee, and crept out of my bedroom.

I went downstairs into the kitchen, and put on a fresh pot of coffee. I stared out of the window, my head in turmoil.

Why can’t I just be happy?

The scene had been wonderful, the cuddling afterward just as good. No, it wasallgood—and it was about to be over.

Toby’s plan sounded awesome, but…He won’t be here. It won’t be the same.Yes, the scene was amazing, but I won’t get that again until his next visit—whenever that may be.

I wasn’t an idiot. I knew I was falling for him. I’d known that for a while.

Falling? Who was I kidding. Fallen, smitten…

I poured myself a coffee, and went out onto the front porch. I sat in a rocker, gazing at the ranch. What I’d had these past five years? I really couldn’t call it living. And what Toby was offering… I wasn’t sure I wanted that if there wouldn’t be a deeper connection between us. I already knew avoiding emotional attachment was a lost cause. I also knew what lay at the root of my concerns.

I’m putting too much emphasis on Toby.

I’m attaching too much importance to what we have.

I’m becoming codependent.

I couldn’t keep doing this. I couldn’t keep thinking ofevery singlepossibility, and analyzing it.Is it good? Is it bad?Lord, I felt like Voldemort, living a half-life.

The door opened and I froze. Toby stepped out onto the porch, dressed in his jeans and a shirt, a cup of coffee in his hand.

“I was surprised not to see you when I woke up. How long have you been out here?”

“Long enough to do some thinking.”

He gazed at me, suddenly still. “That sounds ominous.”

There was so little time left. If I was going to say something, it needed to be soon. I couldn’t leave it until he was getting into the truck to head into Bozeman for the shuttle. Even worse—until he was home in San Francisco, and I dropped it all on him via a phone call.

I pointed to the rocker. “Sit. We need to talk.”

Toby

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