Page 20 of Dear Santa, Send Me a Cowboy
Instead of responding, I reached for the cup of hot chocolate I had just made and went searching for the cowboy. It didn’t take long for me to find him, lingering in the living room with his attention focused on a wall of pictures of Silvan and me.
Jesus.
I could only imagine the wave of regret washing over him as he gazed at the photo of my son and I hugging each other. It was the splash of water in our faces that we needed to tell us I was the single mother, while he was the dutiful son of a tree farmer.
It made my stomach drop.
Then as if he could sense my apprehension filling the room, he turned his big body around to face me. His eyes went soft almost immediately and I couldn’t stop my cheeks from flushing.
“You make that for me, Diana?” he teased with the arch of his brown, bushy brow, but all I could seem to focus on was that perfectly sculpted mustache and lips that had just been all over the contours of my ass.
I had beard burn in places one should never have beard burn, and yet I wanted more.
“Don’t read too much into it, cowboy. It’s just a small token of my appreciation for dropping off my tree and fixing those lights.” I tried my hardest to maintain my composure, with my chin lifted high and void of emotion, but the second I entered his space, it all seemed to crumble.
The corner of his mouth twitched.
“Right.” He chuckled as he took a step toward me, making it nearly impossible for me to breathe. “Wouldn’t want me thinkin’ that you actually like havin’ me around.”
The heat radiating from him was insane. My upper lip began to sweat.
“Why does it matter whether I like you or not?” I lifted the mug between us, hoping he’d take the hint to grab it. I felt myself unraveling, teetering on the edge of doing something stupid like begging him to finish what he started outside.
And as much as I wanted to blame it on a lapse of judgment, it was more than obvious I’d let him do anything he wanted.
With his stare still fixed on mine, he placed his palm onto the side of the mug, making sure he had those thick fingers pressed up against my own. It was obvious he intended to elicit some sort of response from me in doing so.
“Might not matter to you, but don’t worry, I plan on fuckin’ all that hate you have for me out of you.”
I gasped, my hand falling from the mug as shock coursed through me.
Then very smugly, he brought it up to his curved mouth and took a slow sip, all the while having his eyes trained on mine.
“You’re very… forward, cowboy.” I glared, despite all the naughty images floating around in my head. “And very fucking mistaken if you think I’m letting you fuck me.”
The creases beside his eyes deepened as he lowered the mug. Then sticking the tip of his tongue out, he dragged it across his lower lip in a slow, deliberate motion that had my whole body heating.
“You like forward, just how you liked having my hands and mouth all over your ass outside.”
Planting my hands onto my hips, I cocked an eyebrow at him.
“Who said anything about me liking it? My ass is sore and most likely has frostbite because of you.”
It was a blatant lie, but I had no other choice other than to divert.
His jaw had gone taut, almost as if I had insulted him. Even pissed off he was still painfully good-looking, if not more.
“Then let me make it better, Diana.” He set the cup down onto an end table before taking a step toward me. “Let me at least try to be what you need tonight.”
I scoffed, hating the way my heart galloped.
“And how do you know what I need tonight?”
Another step forward, I could feel my knees starting to buckle.
“Because I’m not a stupid man. I know I’m not alone in this. Whatever I feel, you fuckin’ feel too, and from the way you’re breathin’ right now, it’s clear you want me to do somethin’ we both desperately want.”
My ragged breaths immediately slammed to a halt.
