Page 18 of Rough Ride with the Grumpy Cowboy
How did I not hear her though? I blame my meds. Some of the pills I take before bed knock me out, but the effect only lasts for a few hours, which is why I’m already awake. But that doesn’t excuse anything—I need answers.
Her eyes finally land on me. “Zane?”
“Uh-huh, what are you doing here?”
“H-huh?” she stutters, looking around the room bewildered.
Her eyes land on me, and she shuffles back in shock. She ends up getting caught in the sheets, so they trip her up and she falls out of the bed. She lands with a thud, crying out in pain. Thegentlemanly thing would be to help her up, but I’m still pissed that she’s in my room.
She manages to get up on her own and faces me with a panicked look. “I-I... I-I...” she stutters, still in disarray.
“What are you doing in my room?” I question again, getting out of bed as well.
“Your room?”
“Yes.”
She looks around and realizes that this is indeed my room. “Oh my God! I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t... I have no idea...” she trails off.
To her credit, she looks genuinely confused. Maybe she sleepwalked in here? I don’t know, and I don’t care what. What I need is her gone. I walk to the bedroom door and hold it open. “Get out.”
She approaches me, her eyes glistening with tears. “I’m sorry.”
Don’t you dare cave, Zane!
“Out,” I assert a bit more forcefully.
She bows her head in shame, mutters one more word—“Sorry”—before walking out.
A moment later, I hear the front door open and close, meaning she’s gone. I shut the bedroom door and lock it for good measure, just in case she decides to come back. I lean my forehead against it, slamming my closed fist against the wall.
I swear to God, that woman came back here to test all of my restraint. I’ve seen and said more to her since she came back yesterday than I have to my whole family combined in the past six months.
What does she want from me? She clearly didn’t want anything to do with me back then, so why is she trying so hard right now?
I was already over what happened—okay, not completely, but enough to move on with my life—and now she had to show up and disrupt the little peace and quiet I’ve managed to piece together.
Fuck!
I push myself off the door and head into my bathroom to take a shower. I need to forget what just happened and get on with my day. I don’t want to give Ava too much power by allowing her to take over my thoughts.
I switch on the shower to let the water heat up as I shed my clothes. The moment the hot stream hits my sore muscles, I groan in relief at how good it feels.
For two whole minutes, I’m successful in not thinking about Ava—that is, until the anger fades and my body recalls how soft herskin felt against mine, the way she perfectly fit into my side, and how amazing her tits felt pressed against my chest.
Her hair smelled amazing, and those sea-green eyes will be the death of me! I grunt in annoyance when a certain part of my anatomy springs to life at thoughts of her.
I trail my hand lower, past the scars on my torso—another painful reminder of the accident—before my fist wraps around my hard length.
“Argh.”
It’s deliciously painful, and I know that I shouldn’t be doing this, but it’s been so long and I find myself craving the pleasure of an orgasm.
I let my mind roam free, and it ends up on that night years ago when I made her come in my car with just my fingers. The sounds she made, the way she tasted, the feeling of her nipples in my mouth... otherworldly.
The warm stream of the shower offers all the lubrication I need as I move my hand over my cock with a steady pace. I let the sounds from my memories in my car fuel my movements.
“Zane...”
