Page 57 of Cowboy Bull's Promise

In his cabin.

In his bed.

In the middle of the goddamn night.

We started like horny teenagers, groping, kissing, tugging clothes off with clumsy, fevered hands. I’m pretty sure I tore my shirt in the process, but I don’t care.

It’s not like I’ll be putting that Bob’s Bar uniform back on anytime soon.

Not after the way I quit.

The idea of flirting with anyone I was uncomfortable with, especially a customer who gave me the creeps, made me want to vomit. Add on pressure from my boss to do just that and hell no.

That was absolutely not okay.

Sure, it was risky. Quitting like that was not like me.

I mean, the weight of the world still lingers, though. All the bills I’m responsible for and taking care of Gramps. Not to mention this constant state I seem stuck in, treading water emotionally and financially.

It hovers just above me, threatening to crash through the roof and bury me in the rubble.

But I won’t let it.

Not yet.

Not tonight.

Because right now? I’m still riding the come-down from the best sex of my life—and I don’t say that lightly.

Hands down.

No contest.

I’m still a little breathless, muscles loose and trembling, body humming from the intensity of what just happened. And there’s this weird ache between my legs that I swear is part pleasure, part disbelief.

Also, he bit me.

I brush my fingers over the tender skin on my neck, and oddly enough, tingles of pleasure seem to spread through me from that spot.

Yeah. That is definitely weird.

And hot.

I don’t know what it was that made Kian do that. I mean, not exactly.

Instinct? A kink?

Whatever. Fact was, it made my toes curl, so I’m not asking questions.

Tomorrow, though?

Yeah. Tomorrow’s gonna hit hard.

The guilt.

The doubt.

The second-guessing.

---