Page 86 of Knot Your Problem, Cowboy
I leave her there on the couch in a tangle of cats, a little uncertain and a little beautiful and absolutely not mine.
And still, I’d fight the world to keep her safe.
As I step off her porch and the door clicks shut behind me, I realize something strange—my hip doesn’t ache. Not the usual tight pull in my joints, notthe dull throb that follows me like a shadow. It’s just… gone. Like I’m walking on air instead of scar tissue. I pause at the edge of the path, glancing back toward her window, the soft light glowing inside. I woke up this morning the same way—no pain, no stiffness. Just a calmness in my body I hadn’t felt in three years.
17
SOPHIA
The orgasm rips through me before I’m even fully awake, my hips grinding against the mattress as waves of pleasure crash over me. My fingers clutch the sheets, back arching while I ride out something so intense my vision goes white at the edges.
“Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck,” I gasp into my pillow, thighs clenching around nothing while my body spasms. The dream is still there, fragments of it… Walker’s mouth between my legs, Cash’s hands on my breasts, Ridge whispering filthy things in my ear while they take me apart piece by piece.
When the aftershocks finally stop, I flop onto my back, chest heaving. My tank top clings to my skin with perspiration, and my underwear is absolutely ruined. Again.
“What the hell is wrong with me?” I whisper to the ceiling, one hand pressed to my racing heart.
This is the third morning in a row I’ve woken up while coming my brains out. My body has apparently decided that sleep is the perfect time to torture me with X-rated dreams about three cowboys who smell good enough to eat.
Sunlight streams through the window, painting golden stripes across my rumpled bed. For a moment, I just lie here in the afterglow, body humming with satisfaction. Chicago never gave me morning orgasms. Chicago gave me alarm clocks and anxiety.
But that’s dangerous thinking. This isn’t my life. This is temporary. Three months of playing ranch girl before I sell this place and go back to reality.
I’ve managed five whole days of keeping my distance from them since the rodeo. Days of polite conversation at meals before fleeing to safety. Of pretending my hormones aren’t staging a rebellion against my common sense.
Shit. I haven’t updated my blog in days. My followers are probably thinking I’ve been murdered by cowboys. Or worse, that I’m too busy getting railed to write.
Still, it hasn’t been a total loss. I actually finishedInfernal Temptation, the book club pick I borrowed from June. Dark magic, sexy demons, and a heroine who isn’t afraid to bite back… That was the kind of distraction I needed.
I grab my laptop from the nightstand, settling against my mountain of pillows. Time to check in on messages, let the internet know I’m alive, and then overwrite just enough to keep them guessing.
Confessions of a City Omega
Houston, We Have a Problem
Dearest Diary,
Is it normal to wake up mid-orgasm three mornings in a row? Because your girl is starting to worry she’s broken. Or blessed. Honestly can’t decide which.
I’ve been SO GOOD lately. Keeping my distance from three certain cowboys, being professional, focusing on work. Gold star for me, right?
Wrong.
Apparently, my subconscious didn’t get the memo about boundaries, because I’ve been having dreams that would make that demon romance book from the book club look like a children’s story. We’re talking full HD, surround sound, scratch-and-sniff-level vivid dreams.
And the worst part? I wake up already… you know. DURING. Like my body couldn’t even wait for me to be conscious before betraying me.
Is this what happens when you stay away from your scent matches? Some kind of biological uprising? “Oh, you won’t let us near those Alphas? Fine, we’ll just imagine them in explicit detail until you cave.”
Can’t blame my heat, as that’s still over weeks away, according to my app with its aggressive flower emojis. (Why flowers? Why not warning sirens? Skull and crossbones? Something that accurately represents the chaos about to hit?)
In other news, ranch life continues to be suspiciously delightful.
Example: Yesterday I witnessed one of the cowboys practicing pickup lines. On his horse. Full conversation, complete with pauses for the horse’s responses.
Him: “Are you a parking ticket? Because you’ve got ‘fine’ written all over you.”
Horse:sneezes directly on him.
