Page 10 of Protected By the Cowboy

His cock grows harder against my skin, almost as though maybe he likes the idea of being the first.

“It’s not weird. I want you to feel comfortable. What can I do?”

For some reason, his question sparks the avalanche again, and my brain creates a story. It only takes three seconds, but it’s well rounded and thought-out, like a three-hundred-page novel.

Tonight goes well. We have sex. I lose my virginity. We go to the wedding, and he realizes what a mess my family is. He tries being nice to me for the next few weeks because he feels bad, but eventually we break it off and I spend who knows how long trying to get over this guy who probably never liked me to begin with… because I’m a freaking weirdo!

My face is so hot I feel like I might pass out. “I should go.”

“Why?”

I stare up at him with my mouth open and my heart pounding. I most definitely don’t want to go. I want him to touch me until I come on his hand, and then I want his big dick inside of me until I come again, all while he tells me over and over again that this isn’t fake, that none of this is alcohol induced, and that he wants me, and only me, for eternity. Yeah, that’s what I need. Except, I don’t ask for that. I don’t ask for anything. I pull away from him, help him with his pants, pet the dog on the head, slide my shoes on, and swing open the front door.

The cool air feels nice.

“Wait. What’s goin’ on?” He follows after me, his voice echoing his confusion. I can’t blame him, really.

“I’m leaving. This is weird.”

“Why is it weird?”

“Because it is… okay. I’m sorry.” My heart is slamming against my chest and my skin is overheating.

“You’re makin’ too much of this. Come back. I like touchin’ you, but we can slow down.”

I stand in the cold driveway, staring back at him and the dimly lit cabin that I’m sure he built with his own two hands. One moment being touched by those hands and I’m thinking they could do anything.

What am I doing? Why am I running? Why aren’t I sprinting toward his bed and sprawling out for him to take? I’ve been wanting to lose my virginity forever. Losing it to a great big cowboy isn’t the worst thing that could happen, even if he does pretend to like me and ditches me right afterward.

“I’m sorry,” I finally manage, opening my car door. “Don’t worry about this weekend. I’ll be good on my own. It’s probably best I don’t lie to everyone, anyway. This is a small town, and people talk.”

He stares at me as though he wants to say something, but he doesn’t know how to say it. I can’t tell if that something is good or bad, so I climb into my car and I leave… though I’m not sure I’ve brought my heart with me.

*******

I’m halfway home when the phone starts ringing. It’s my mother. I’m tempted to let it go to voicemail, but I’m sure she’s curious how the dress fitting went this week and if I don’t tell her now, she’s going to tailspin, show up at my house, and demand answers.

“Hey, Mom.”

“Hey, sweetie. You sound down. What’s wrong?” I don’t know how mothers can pick up on this kind of thing, but she does every time with surprising accuracy.

“I’m fine. Just a long day. I did the fitting, though, and everything is a go. We’re good. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I’m looking forward to meeting your date.” Why didn’t I think the conversation would go here?

“Oh, right. He’s, ugh…” I pause running through my options. I don’t want to have a conversation about a breakup right now, and I don’t have the energy to explain why the imaginary boyfriend I was inviting can’t come, so I avoid the topic all together. “Me too. I’m excited.” Apparently, this is now Saturday’s problem. Why do I do this to myself? When this wedding is over, I’m checking myself into an anxiety clinic, or maybe at least booking something with a therapist. This is getting out of hand.

“Are you still bringing him to brunch beforehand? I should let you know… Alec is going to be there.”

Alec. Dear God, is there no mercy left for me? Maybe I did some really horrible things in a past life and now whoever is in charge up there is punishing me at every conceivable turn. That makes the most sense all things considered, right?

“Yeah, I figured. No worries. I better let you go, though. I’m driving.”

“Yes, of course. I’ll talk to you tomorrow morning, dear. Be safe. Love you.” I’ll never understand how my mother became so enamored by money that she would marry a man whose son was hurting me. I’ll never understand a lot of things, though. People are a mystery. At the end of the day, I guess we’re all just doing our best. Then again, it should be okay that someone’s best isn’t enough for me. I mean, that’s a thing, right?

I drag my fingers back through my hair and stare out at the road in front of me. I probably should’ve seen a therapist right after Alec and I broke things off or at least when my mother told me she was marrying his dad. Instead, I filled the nights with ice cream and negative self-talk.

Tempted to call Austin and beg for forgiveness, I stuff the phone in the glove box and ignore the barrage of incoming texts from him. He really tried tonight, and I ruined it. I ruined it with my stupid fears about stupid love like I always stupidly do. I can’t run back now and ask him for help. I burned that bridge.

---