Page 37 of Westin

“Good girl,” he says.

Electricity crackles. I’m right back where I was before he fucked me, hot and bothered and empty between my thighs. I want to be at the center of his world, the way I was tied to his steering wheel, his eyes and hands and body praising me, making me feel good.

Like there’s nowhere he’d rather be than with me.

Maybe I just want to be tied up too. That felt better than I ever expected.

“I guess I should go,” he says. “Before you get drunk.”

The back of my head buzzes from the whiskey. My eyes fall to his zipper, at the level of my eyes. My tongue wets my lips. Into my head flashes an image of me with my face in his lap while he holds my head.

I know he’d feel good in my mouth; he feels so good between my legs.

“What’re you thinking?” he asks.

“Can I do what you did for me?” I ask.

A crease appears between his eyes. “What?”

My hand goes to his zipper. His brows rise and he shakes his head. Disappointment fills my chest.

“You’re a little tipsy,” he says.

I roll my eyes. He reaches down and gives my thigh a light spank; not enough to hurt, but enough to make me want to straddle him. Then, he gets up and makes me go inside and have a glass of water.

“You’re very responsible,” I say, handing him the empty cup.

“No, just taking care of what’s mine,” he says.

I’m a mess inside after that. I’m so flustered, I don't know what to do with myself. So, I make food. He watches while I put together cold chicken sandwiches and take a jar of pickled eggs from the fridge. We eat standing at the kitchen counter, not saying anything.

Before he goes, after I’m sobered up, he kisses me. It’s not a brief kiss or a swipe of his tongue. No, he sets me on the counter and kisses me like it’s an experience.

Hands stroking my body. Mouth warming mine. He groans when I finally part my lips. He bites the tip of my tongue. I do the same to him.

He tugs down the front of my dress and leaves a little purple mark on my breast.

Like a secret only we know.

When he leaves, I feel like a new woman. For a few glorious hours, I’m soft and safe. Then, the men come back, and I put my head down and go about my chores.

CHAPTER TWELVE

WESTIN

I’m supposed to be the responsible one. The problem solver.

I don’t feel responsible anymore. I’m all tied up in knots, so hot at night that I can’t get any rest. It’s good that Sovereign is distracted with his own woman problems, because I’m having a hard time keeping mine private. I prefer it that way. I’ve never been the type to talk about my love life, and I won’t say a word about it if I’m not forced into it.

Nobody but Jensen will ask what’s going on. Sovereign and I have been close friends for over two decades. We’ve never once talked about sex together.

It’s just how it is. We both like it that way.

Jensen already knows, but he’s nosy in comparison. I let him in a little because he helps me find ways to see Diane. But I do warn him; I’m not in the habit of putting my private business out there for everyone to speculate.

Having him in my corner is proving to be helpful. Jensen knows everybody’s business. He does a lot of jobs for the surrounding ranches, including Carter Farms. It lets him keep tabs on David while I traipse over the field in hopes of seeing her.

He gets me time to see my girl. I pick up the organic cigarettes he likes when I go to the city.

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