Page 14 of The Cowboy's Temporary Solution

After all, it's still pretend.

Maybe Ranger and I really are attracted to each other, or maybe it's whiskey and the relief of having gotten through his father's memorial service and a day of facing down a woman who's obviously not over him that has us both eager to relieve some tension; but this still isn't a relationship-- and it's not going to be.

So whatever happens is just bonus over the opportunity he's already offering me to get in with the local families and hear their histories in their own words.

Ready, Serenity?

The woman in the mirror nods as she stifles a giggle.

Okay then. Let's go lose our virginity.

With a deep breath, I open the bathroom door and flick off the light.

There's some moonlight filtering in through the bedroom windows that adds to the soft illumination from a bedside lamp.

In the low light, I can easily make out the features of the room, from the chair beside the closet to the queen size bed that takes up the majority of the space.

The bedspread has been pulled nearly off and most of the covers along with it. Pillows are scattered, but no sign of the man that had been so eagerly waiting for me to return.

"Ranger?" I call into the dimly lit room softly. "Where'd you go?"

Coming closer to the bed, I see the sole of a cowboy boot, its heel propped on the edge of the mattress, whatever it's attached to invisible on the other side of the bed.

"Ranger?"

I climb onto the mattress and peer over the other side.

The boot is still attached to a foot, the foot is attached to a muscled leg, the leg is attached to a very naked cowboy sprawled on the floor and passed out cold.

"Seriously?" I grab the boot beside me and shake it roughly.

The man on the floor snores softly but that's all the response I get from him.

I lay across the bed, draped off the edge, and stare at him, feeling disappointed. As my eyes adjust to the darkness on this side of the room, I do admit to taking full advantage of appreciating the view.

Ranger's other boot is laying near his head, the black shirt I'd unbuttoned during our all-too-brief make-out session has been discarded with a hasty toss toward the chair. The black jeans are inside-out, with the black boxer briefs still entwined with the long legs of the denim as they make a dark line across the floor beside the sleeping man.

What has me transfixed, however, is the sight of Ranger's body. All six foot, four of him stretched out and naked except for the one boot.

It's not the first naked man I've ever seen, but it's definitely the first one that's had me wanting to do more than look.

I can see where his tan ends, somewhere at the waist line of his jeans, leading me to imagine him working outdoors, shirtless in the summer sun. His body is all muscle and sinew, from the corded forearms to the thick thighs and sculpted calves.

Of course, the developed pecs and flat abs have my appreciation, and the trail of dark hair that leads down is hardnot to admire, but it's the long, thick, ridge of flesh jutting up from between his legs that has my attention pinned to it.

He's still hard.Veryhard.

And big enough to have my imagination doing loop-de-loops, wondering all kinds of things fromwill it fitto some primal urge to find out. Which, of course, I'm not going to do. It would be wrong to crawl off the edge of the bed and join him down there on the floor. It'd be wrong to run my hands over those hard muscles and along the length of that swollen cock while he's dead to the world.

Frustrated, I shake the booted foot again.

"Ranger!"

This time, his foot falls to the floor with a harsh thud.

A smile ghosts his features and he says my name-- but he doesn't wake up.

With the excitement the night had promised seeping out of my body, the whiskey is left to pull me into sleep.

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