Page 7 of Tin

Cowboy points at the small, washed-out door beside the garage. “This is my place.”

Ah. Yes. This makes way more sense.

“You the caretaker or something?”

He just grunts in response as he leads the way inside. I close my eyes, bracing myself for whatever I’m about to find. Then I remember the places I’ve been and the things I’ve seen and realize nothing inside this multimillion-dollar beach house could possibly be all that terrifying, and I open them again.

It’s about what I expected. A studio apartment with a mishmash of old furniture. Two wicker patio chairs around a glass table make up the dining area, he’s got a mattress with faded brown sheets for a bed, and in the corner there’s what appears to be an old recliner doubling as his dresser. Or dirty clothes hamper. I really can’t tell which. So, it’s probably both.

Off to the left there’s a narrow door I’m assuming leads to the bathroom, and then to the right of us there’s a small kitchen, the distinct scent of his supper still lingering in the air.

I grin. “Ramen noodles?”

He drops his head and shakes it sheepishly. “I don’t like to cook.”

It’s about what I figured. “Can I take a look at your fridge?”

He cocks his head back. “Why?”

I shrug. “Just want to see if I’m right or not.” I’m already walking toward the kitchen. He’s not moving, so I’m taking it as a yes. “Oh, yeah. Here we go. Leftover Chinese takeout and three pizza boxes. All of which have...wait...exactly one slice and two crusts in them. Why don’t you eat the crust? It’s the best part!” I let the fridge door fall back into place and then return to where I left Cowboy standing in the middle of his small apartment.

“I agree. Sometimes I save a few pieces for the seagulls.” He tips his head to the side and his mouth twitches up into a half grin. “And then I forget.”

He’s being cute. Too cute. And he’s sharing. My fault, but still. This isn’t what I came here for. I glance briefly at Harley, who’s already found a pile of towels to curl up in, and then I just go for it and pull my tank top right over my head.

When Cowboy doesn’t react, I toss it across the room and start to shimmy out of my shorts. “Are we doing this or what?”

“I don’t know. Did you want to check out my medicine cabinet as well? See if I’m fully stocked in condoms and dollar store toothbrushes for my overnight guests?” His voice has dropped again, so he’s not really trying to be funny.

“All I need is one condom. And I’m not staying overnight.” I kick my sneakers off into the corner. There’s nothing left but my sports bra and panties. I’m about to reach up to take off the bra when Cowboy comes for me.

In one smooth motion he’s got me off the ground, both hands firmly under my ass, my legs wrapping tightly around his waist. He presses my back flush against the wall, his rock-hard dick pushing up through his shorts and against the thin material of my underwear. I already have to fight the urge to roll my eyes into the back of my head.

“You’ll need at least three. And I won’t be done with you until morning,” he growls into my mouth, just before his lips crush mine.

In my entire life, I’ve never been kissed the way I’m being kissed at this very moment. It’s almost like Cowboy is gasping for air and breathing me in with each connection our lips make. Only it’s exactly the opposite for me. He’s leaving me completely breathless. Suffocating me with the intensity of his lips on mine, the way histongue plunges into my mouth and completely takes over. His kiss. It’s all-consuming. Like hunger. And sleep. And I’m starving and exhausted.

Still holding me tight to him, he moves us away from the wall and toward the bed. Or mattress. Let’s not romanticize this.

Considering the mattress is less than a foot off the ground, I’m expecting to drop my legs and lower myself, rather than tempt fate and risk bodily injuries while he does the impossible and balances my entire body weight along with his own as he tries to lean forward and lie down.

Wrong. Again. Cowboy’s got this. Damn, he’s got it good. One arm wrapped snug around my back, holding me to him, and the other stretched out in front, guiding us both safely to ground level, all the while never once breaking our kiss. Which is good, because I’m pretty sure, at this point, both of our lives depend on it.

No longer needing to physically hold me in place, he untangles his arm from around my waist and uses his free hand to undo his shorts. As soon as I notice, my own hands come back to life and I stop pressing them into his chest so I can reach down and help him get out of his pants. He’s not wearing anything under them, andholy Mother of God.If I wasn’t already out of breath from kissing him, I would stop breathing altogether right now.

I can’t even blame the fact that it seems like an eternity since I last saw a penis. If there was ever any question about whether God was a man or a woman, Cowboy is all the proof I need that she’s female. Only a woman would know to build a man this perfectly. And I mean...perfectly.

He drops his entire weight onto my body and moans deeply into my mouth. It’s the sexiest damn sound I’ve ever heard. Between that and the way he’s rubbing against my underwear again, not to mention the way his kisses are making my head spin and the fact that my entire body feels like it’s about to experience some sort ofeuphoric overload from merely touching, I’m pretty sure the only decent thing to do is tell him to slow down or I won’t have any need for that condom after all. At the rate he’s going, I’m going to have an earth-shattering orgasm within the next twenty seconds, and after that I’m not really going to have much use for him anymore.

But I don’t say anything because words are a little beyond my realm of capabilities right now. Instead, I place both palms on his chest and push up with all the strength I can muster. Which is peanuts, really, but he notices anyway.

“What’s wrong? Am I hurting you?” Actually, now that he’s stopped, he kind of is. My body literally aches for his kiss. An act of betrayal I can barely comprehend, which makes me want to ram my own head into a brick wall just to override my body’s new and unfounded urges.

“You’re not hurting me. Trust me.” I can already feel myself turning red for what I’m going to say next. I feel like a fucking thirteen-year-old about to hand over her v-card to the high school football star. “It’s just...I haven’t done this in a while and it’s not going to take a whole lot to finish the job here. So you may want to cut any and all foreplay and get right to the main event, because I’m not the kind of girl who’s going to stick around and worry about whether or not you got all you were hoping for from this experience.”

He drops his head to my shoulder, grazing it with his lips as he chuckles. When he raises his eyes to meet mine, his disheveled hair is hanging down into his line of vision and I have to fight the desire to tenderly swipe it away.

“I don’t need you to worry about whether or not I’m getting all I was hoping for from this experience. I don’t need you to worry aboutmeat all. Idoneed you to stop trying to fucking rush me, though. I know what I’m doing. So just close your eyes, lie back, and shut the fuck up so you can enjoyit.”

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