Page 35 of Any Cowboy of Mine
“Me neither,” she said. “That was a first.”
“For you, too?” he asked, and she warmed at the incredulity in his voice.
“Yeah. I wouldn’t say that my ex didn’t know what he was doing, just that he always seemed to want to be doing something else other than that.”
“What an idiot,” Brad joked and Sophie kissed his hand again. She might just dissolve into a mushy puddle of happiness right there in bed.
“I always thought so. Julia too, I gather?” she asked. It was funny, how it didn’t feel awkward or taboo talking about their exes, even as they lay there, naked and embracing each other after some pretty spectacular lovemaking. Everything with Brad felt comfortable, like she’d known him for years, though she’d have bet her former salary at Drew’s firm that life with Brad would never get stale, no matter how long they were together.
Not that she thought they were together. She wasn’t sure what tonight meant to Brad, but they could talk about that tomorrow. Or not. She had a mind to wake him up the same way they’d just put themselves to bed instead—actions usually spoke louder than words anyway.
“Yeah. She was pretty vanilla. Me on top, come quickly so she could get to the laundry, or make dinner, or any other of the hundred things she’d want to be doing to not have to be intimate. It wasn’t just physical, either. She didn’t like to be vulnerable, ever. Couldn’t be wrong, couldn’t be questioned. That was Julia. Does it bother you to hear this?” he asked, his thumb tracing the goose-pimpled flesh at the base of her breast.
Sophie shook her head. “No. Thanks for asking, but I was just thinking about that, actually. How strange it is to not feel jealous, or expect jealousy from you. It’s just nice to know we both have a history and there isn’t any judgment.”
Brad’s lips peppered her shoulder, and she smiled, a big, toothy smile she was glad he couldn’t see.
They were quiet for a few minutes, and then Brad’s arm got heavy on her waist, his breathing deep and rhythmic. As soon as she heard a soft snore, she felt her eyelids getting impossibly heavy, and she gave into the pull of sleep. The thought of Brad’s face as he watched her on top of him was the last image on her mind before she faded out, blissfully happy, a smile still on her face.
CHAPTER NINE
The Swap
Brad woke witha start. The pale morning light barely peeked through the bottom of the hotel window, but it was blinding nonetheless. He hadn’t bothered to close the drapes last night, and as cool air brushed over every inch of his skin—meaning he didn’t have a shred of clothing on—he was glad he’d opted for the floor highest off the ground level. He’d originally picked it for the view of the river, one of the perks to actually having some discretionary income now, but it looked like it had saved his ass from being plastered all over Montana as well.
Good to know.
The heat in the room must have turned off in the night, and only the small fan from the bathroom made a whirring noise, that, if he were anyone else, would have lulled him right back under the covers, and to sleep.
Though dawn was just beginning to break, the sliver of light made Brad wince. His head was killing him—damn those mini bottles and the flask of some kind of unknown poison Steve made him drink before the wedding. The sugar from the lemon drop shots wasn’t doing much to help his situation either. His whole body felt like it had been pummeled by a pissed off bull. He thought seriously now about crawling back under the covers for another couple hours, but unfortunately, his body still operated on teacher time and no matter what kind of night he’d had, when he was up—usually early—he was up for good.
He needed to find some ibuprofen, and fast.
In addition to the aches pulsing through his head and body, his arm was numb when he went to move it, and he discovered it was still wedged under Sophie’s shoulder. Did he fall asleep with Sophie’s perfect, naked body still curved to the shape of his? No wonder he’d slept so well.
He fought the urge to trail his fingertips along every inch of alabaster skin, to wake her up and do more of what they’d just done the night before. Those exquisite moments came flashing back in vivid and persistent detail. Brad’s cheeks flushed with the memories of what he had done to Sophie, and he was hard remembering what she had done to and with him.
Was he crazy for believing he could have nights like that every day of the week and still not be sick of her? She’d awakened something in him, and even now, as he thought about her hands on his hips, drawing him closer to her, as he recalled her breathy gasps as he thrust inside her, his headache dissipated slightly, heat taking the place of the vice grip his head was in.
That was one helluva night.A grin spread across his face, making him feel like an idiot. A happy, sexually satisfied idiot. He slid his arm as carefully out from under Sophie as he could without rousing her, his smile lingering. He doubted it would be going anywhere any time soon. He looked down at his clothes, and what looked like quite a bit of hers, in a crumpled heap beside the bed. Brad sorted and folded hers, smiling at the cute but faded teddy bear on her shirt before he put on his boxers and walked to the bathroom to clean up.
He took one look at his face in the mirror and stifled a laugh. It looked like he’d been living on the streets for a good few months from the stubble of his beard and the disheveled way his hair looked like a party on one side, a matted mess on the other. If that was the consequence of a night like he’d shared with Sophie, then he could hardly complain.
Brad shed his boxers, shut the bathroom door to keep the noise down, and started the shower, letting steam take over the room. He downed a couple glasses of cold water from the bathroom sink and instantly felt a little bit better. He needed food to go with the painkillers, though, so he’d wait to take those till he figured out what to do for much needed sustenance. His stomach rumbled its vote of approval at his decision to fill it, and quickly.
He stepped into the water, his back to the scorching liquid, letting it fall over his shoulders and aching muscles. Each spot the water touched ignited his skin and triggered another memory of Sophie’s hands, mouth, and body against his. He shuddered, the grin returning. He’d been with his fair share of women—more lately than before Julia—but none of them had ever made him feel the unique sense of completeness and passion as Sophie had.
The only moment that gave him any pause was remembering why they’d been forced to share a room in the first place. Steve and Sophie’s friend, Jackie, had decided that they were engaged—engaged!—last night, and that left a huge problem to deal with today. Though, now that he was sober and his memories of the engagement were overshadowed by his night with Sophie, it didn’t seem like that big of a deal anymore. Steve and Jackie were adults, and dammit, he had them to thank for steering his night back on track. If anything, he owed them an extreme debt of gratitude not for the first time.
That didn’t mean he thought they were making a good, or necessarily smart decision, but it no longer mattered as much. He’d text Steve later that morning and get the whole story. Geez. This wedding had shaped up to be more than he’d ever expected in more ways than one.
Brad turned off the water and toweled off, feeling like a new person. He cracked the door and slipped out, pleased to see Sophie hadn’t budged. He took a moment to let his gaze wander over her delicate frame, before he begrudgingly pulled away from her and got dressed.
His mood was as high as it had been since he’d first gotten a book offer. How was he supposed to recover from this? He sure as hell hoped Sophie was as interested in him as he was in her, because he had big plans to keep her in his life as long as possible. While that should have sent alarm bells ringing in his head, he wasn’t at all concerned. At the very least, he’d ask her if she had plans for Christmas evening and if she’d like to join him at his parents’ farm. He found himself giddy at the thought of showing her where he’d grown up. Sure, he’d have to be careful not to let his heart completely dictate his plans, but he was open to something new for the first time in over a decade.
Damn, did it feel good.
As if he’d jinxed himself, Brad scooped up his phone and checked it out of habit.No. Effing. Way.Staring back at him was a string of texts from Julia. Again. What the actual hell? Hadn’t she gotten the message loud and clear last night?
