Page 43 of Perfect Cowboy

“Yes,” I admit gruffly.

“I’ll be right back.”

If she comes back naked, I’m fucking done. There are only so many times that a red-blooded man can refuse a gorgeous girl, even if she did put his heart through a meat grinder.

But she returns fully clothed, and I can’t decide if I’m happy or disappointed. There’s a bottle of body lotion in her hand, so apparently she’s going to make my skin smell like flowers or some other girly shit.

Before a complaint can leave my mouth, she sets the bottle down and her fingers run through my hair. She starts giving me the best ever scalp massage, working her way down to my neck. Her thumbs expertly glide along the golf-ball sized muscle knot at the base of my skull, and it’s both painful and relieving.

“Okay?” she asks, and her lips are right by my ear, her warm breath making me shiver despite how hot it is inside this goddamn cabin.

“Yeah. It’s… It’s good.”

I’m about to tell her to stop because I’m not comfortable with what her touch is stirring in my gut. But then her hands are massaging warm lotion along my shoulder blades, and the words get lost to an involuntarily groan.

I don’t want to be vulnerable with her, but dammit, it feels too good, and I don’t want her to stop.

“You’re so tense,” Ashley says, her voice soft and soothing. “Lucky for you, I give awesome massages.”

I’m jacked up for two reasons now, and she could definitely solve both of them.

She’d probably be down for some filthy hot sex if I gave the green light, but I haven’t had a casual hook-up for months.

Besides, nothing about being with Ashley again is casual.

She’s leaving the state, so that means nothing between us would be permanent – a good thing. But my heart and dick are not on the same page when it comes to this woman. And I can’t start thinking with my dick because he’s fucking stupid.

Her hands tirelessly knead my sore muscles as I get progressively harder. There’s no chance that she isn’t noticing the bulge from her vantage point, but there is literally nothing I can do about it.

When Ashley slides her hands to my pecs, the soft, involuntary groans turn into loud rumbling ones.

Damn, she wasn’t kidding about her massage skills.

She gave me my first hand job in a movie theater because it was the only place where we could be alone. I can only imagine how much better she’s gotten at it, and I have to squeeze my legs together a few times to try and take away some of the ache.

“You okay down there?” she asks, and the smile in her voice is clear as day.

She knows exactly what she’s doing.

She fucking knows.

“Never been better.”

Her hands glide down my chest and across my trembling abs. My breathing gets stuck on a gasp, and I have no idea what she’s going to do next, or if I’m going to let her.

When she starts undoing my belt buckle, it becomes very clear where her mind is heading, which makes mine start to spin.

“Ashley,” I say weakly.

“Uh-huh?”

“What are you doing?”

It’s the question of the night.

“Well, I don’t know,” she says, her voice throaty and sexy from desire. “That thing looks pretty painful, so I was going to rub some of the ache away for you. Don’t you want me to stroke your cock, Gavin?”

Fuck me.

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