Page 44 of The Cowboy's Cabaret

I turn as much as I can manage without falling onto the floor and lift her chin to look at me. I take her hand and press it to my chest. “Focus on my heartbeat, focus on our breathing. It’s you and me right now. The past isn’t here, just us. I can’t change the past and I’m sorry I couldn’t care for you before, but I’m here now. There will likely come a day where we will fight. We’re human and sometimes I probably will piss you off”—I kiss her nose—“but I won’t let a day end without making it right. I could never resent you when all I want to do is worship the ground you walk on.”

Dahlia’s eyes are watery with unshed tears. “I’m sorry. I”—a tear falls—“I worry if I let myself have this with you, I’m damning myself. I promise I’m not expecting a wedding ring or anything. Oh my gosh, I realize I’m sounding insanely clingyright now.” She starts to wipe her cheeks, trying to pull from my hold.

I give her the space she needs to start moving away before I pull her to the center of the bed. My hands find space on either side of her head and I look her in the eyes. “Dahlia, baby, I was ready for you to be clingy two days after we met. This isn’t clinginess though. We aren’t strangers. We’ve had a bit of dancing around our feelings and maybe it feels like the stakes are a little higher? We’re talking right now, processing feelings. That’s healthy, this is okay. You’re not going to scare me off, I see you. I always have.”

She reaches up to pull me down to her. With a kiss on both cheeks, she says, “Thank you. I think I was starting to spiral. It does feel like the stakes are higher because you mean a lot to me already. I don’t know how any of this works, but I want to learn with you.”

“That’s my girl. We’ll learn together and we’ll figure it out as we go, okay?”

“Okay.” She smiles.

“Now let’s get some sleep, I need to conserve my energy in case my woman needs an early morning dickin’.”

She gasps and pretends to clutch her pearls, and we fall asleep wrapped up in each other’s arms—safe and loved.

THIRTY-THREE

the morning after

Dahlia

The next morningI wake to Wes’ rough beard rubbing against me as he kisses along my collarbones and shoulders. He’s looking at me with such tenderness it makes my heart want to leap out of my chest. I press my lips to his, hoping he can feel how much he means to me.

His hard cock is pressing into my thigh and I’m glad he’s as turned on as me, because I want him desperately right now. I reach down and rub him over his briefs, earning a throaty groan from him. He pulls my panties to the side, finding me already wet and wanting. Our languid kisses turn to a slow morning intimacy, one that has me lining him up with me again. His soft chants of my name soundtrack my orgasm and I wanna wake up like this every morning.

Our little getawaycomes to an end and we hit the road home. Wes holds my hand as he drives and the little gesture gives me butterflies.

“I realize we didn’t necessarily talk through kinks last night, but I would love to know what you like in the bedroom,” he says and I flush with pink. “Hey, no blushing baby. I want to hear all the dirty thoughts in your mind.”

He calls me out and after pinching him I tell him, “Clearly, I love praise. Honestly, everything we did last night was super hot. I think I would enjoy rougher sex, but I haven’t ever been with someone I trust enough to explore that. You make me feel safe.”

“Mmm, I think I’d like that a lot, Princess. What else?”

“Having your hand on my throat was really hot, I could do with more pressure there. I really liked when you called me a naughty girl. Maybe more?” I ask nervously.

He adjusts himself with his driving hand, knee on the wheel, still keeping contact with my hands. “Degradation? Yeah, I’m very into that. I didn’t want to bust out the gate calling you a pretty whore, you know? Felt like maybe I needed a bit of a preamble first.” He laughs. Wes brings our entwined hands to his mouth and brushes a kiss over my knuckles.

I decide to tease him a bit. “Pretty whore, huh? Am I your pretty whore, Wes?”

“If you want to make it home un-fucked, we need to change the subject or I’m liable to pull over and show you my backseat.”

As much as I would love to see the roof of Wes’ truck from laid out on the second row, we do need to get home. We ride home constantly touching each other, teasing, and talking about everything under the sun. It’s always so easy with Wes. Maybe I can allow myself this kind of life, this kind of love.

My building comesinto view and I’m more bummed than I’d like to admit to return. Especially considering my apartment has been my safe space as long as I’ve lived here.

Sure enough, Wes feels the same. He pulls to the curb outside my building and looks at me with a longing gaze—the one that has me wishing we didn’t live counties apart. I guess it’s another bridge we’ll need to cross eventually.

Wes offers to walk me up, but I opt to smother him in kisses while he palms my breasts. The last time he walked me up, he had to break Olympic track records to move to avoid a parking ticket. He still gets out to help me get my backpack on and like we’re two magnets, we’re drawn back together as we kiss against his truck.

We’re only interrupted when there’s a loud banging from above and a girlish scream, belonging to none other than Daphne. She throws the window open and yells down to us, but I can’t quite interpret her words. Whatever she’s saying, she seems thrilled.

“I guess the cat’s out of the bag now, huh,” he tells me.

“I forgot we have our locations shared. She must’ve seen I was back here. Bestie life for you.”

Any fears of my clinginess are dust in the wind as I quickly realize between my schedule and his, we’re not really running on the same timeline. “When can I see you again?”

“I’m glad you asked, because I’ve been ready to make plans again since we left the hotel. I am, as the kids say, down bad.”