Page 101 of Roulette Rodeo
He clears his throat and then stands, stretching in a way that makes every muscle in his body flex and roll. I stare, openly, because why not? I have earned that right. Also, I’m still too blissed out to be subtle.
“If you want breakfast in bed, you’ll get breakfast in bed,” he says, and there’s a note of stubborn chivalry in his tone that is almost more endearing than the sex was. “But first, you need to shower. And probably drink something with electrolytes.”
He rifles through the cabinets and comes back with a can of Gatorade, which feels both absurd and perfect.
"You say that like I'm a marathon runner and not someone who just lay on her back and moaned a lot," I tease, twisting thecap off and chugging half the bottle in one go. My mouth is so dry it’s a miracle any words come out at all.
"You did more than moan," Shiloh says, voice dropping low. "I liked the part where you almost broke my neck."
I cough, nearly spraying blue Gatorade everywhere. "I-I-I did not! I don’t even remember trying to do such! I was just bracing myself…around your neck…tightly! Yes, tightly."
He grins, showing just the edge of his teeth.
"Noted."
We fall into a weird, wonderful rhythm after that. Shiloh helps me into the shower, making sure the water temp is just right, and then leaves me alone with a stern warning not to lock my knees because post-orgasm fainting is apparently a real thing. I scoff, but I do as I’m told. The hot spray feels almost unbearably good on my skin, washing away the sweat and sex and whatever else happened on those now-ruined bedsheets. I stand there longer than I should, letting my mind replay everything—the way he touched me, the way I let him, and how this whole experience truly was so magical than what I could envision myself experiencing.
When I finally step out, Shiloh has left a towel on the counter and, hilariously, a PowerBar. I eat the whole thing while standing naked in the bathroom, like a wild animal fresh from the kill. If anyone walked in, it would be the least dignified sight of my life, but I don’t even care. Dignity is overrated, and also I think I left mine somewhere in the bottom of that tub.
I wrap myself in the towel and wander into the adjoining room to find Shiloh remaking the bed, all traces of sex and blood and tears vanished. He’s wearing sweatpants now, and nothing else, his hair damp from his own shower, which probably proves that we didn’t need to take a shared bath.Oops.He looks… softer than before. Less like a killing machine and more like a man, which is somehow even more devastating.
"Stop staring," he says without turning around.
"Not a chance," I shoot back, sitting cross-legged on the edge of the newly pristine bed. "You have a very symmetrical back. It's hypnotic."
He snorts and tosses the old sheets in a hamper, then sits next to me without hesitation. I lean against his shoulder, just because I can, and he lets me, just because he will.
"So," he says, "what’s the next step in the Little Cherry’s post-deflowering itinerary?"
I pretend to think hard.
"Hmm. Ideally, it would involve bacon. And maybe waffles. And then I want to paint my toenails and not move for the rest of the day."
Shiloh nods, like he’s taking notes.
"Bacon, waffles, toenails. Got it."
"And I want to steal your hoodie," I add, just to see if he’ll argue.
He doesn’t. He just stands, rifles through his duffel bag, and tosses me a gigantic, faded green pullover that smells like him—pine, gunpowder, and the faintest trace of laundry detergent. The squeal that leaves me is like a little kid being offered a whole slice of their favorite cake.
I pull it on over my still-damp body, and it swallows me whole. The sleeves dangle past my hands, the hem hits mid-thigh, and it’s so soft I nearly swoon. I bury my face in the collar, breathing him in.
"Happy?" he asks, but I can tell he already knows the answer.
"Ecstatic," I say, grinning up at him. "Now feed me."
He laughs, but there’s something softer in his eyes now, a gentleness I haven’t seen before.
"You’re a menace, Red."
"Only to men with snacks," I volley back. He guides me out the room, leading the way as I shuffle after him, feet bare, legs still a little wobbly.
He catches me glancing down and raises an eyebrow.
"Need me to carry you?"
I roll my eyes.
