Page 56 of Frog

“How bad?” I asked, my voice low and husky.

“Let me show you,” he said seductively, hands attacking the buttons on my shirt.

But it wasn’t what I wanted, so I stopped him, covering both his hands with one of mine, flattening them against my chest, the other lifting to his face, his cheek.

“Web?”

“Get up.”

“What? Why?”

“Get up,” I ordered him a second time.

He stood, and I did as well.

“Go change into your pajamas and get in bed.”

“What? No, I want—”

“Just go do it. I’ll be right there,” I said, leaving him no time to argue with me before I walked away from him. “I’m gonna get the lights and check the doors.”

He left without another word.

I walked around and turned everything off, made sure the house was locked up for the night, and finally joined him in the bedroom. He was sitting up in bed, shirtless, bottom half under the covers, waiting for me. He said nothing as I stripped down, changed into sleep shorts, and walked around to my side of the bed, the left side, the one closest to the door.

“Get in bed,” he said, throwing back the covers in invitation.

I got in and turned off the light on the nightstand before lying down, arm under the pillow.

“Why don’t you want me?” he asked softly in the darkness.

“Idiot,” I said, reaching a hand for him. “I always want you.”

He was wrapped around me in seconds, his body plastered to mine, head under my chin as he pressed against me.

“But we’re both being idiots,” I said into his hair, inhaling him, my fingers sliding lazily up and down the smooth skin of his bare back. “You think if you don’t come home and fuck me that I’m gonna lose interest in you. And I think if I ain’t riding bulls no more that you won’t want nothin’ to do with me.”

His breath caught as he clutched at me.

“We’re both grown men, Cy, thinking such foolish things.”

He took another quivering breath. “All I want is for you to realize that what you do does not dictate the kind of man you are. What you do and who you are, are two separate things.”

“Not necessarily,” I sighed, loving him draped over me, the feel of him, his weight, his breath, as he tilted his head back, over the side of my neck. “I think what a man does, what anyone does, is part of them, but I’ve always thought that if I wasn’t wild that you wouldn’t want me. I thought you had an idea in your mind of what you wanted, and if I wasn’t that then you weren’t interested.”

He groaned loudly. “For the love of God, Weber, I don’t give a shit what you do. I don’t need a cowboy or—”

“A prince?”

“Hell no,” he grumbled, lifting up so he was looking down at my face, which he could now see in the darkness after our eyes adjusted. “You’re loving and kind and gentle, and no one makes me laugh like you do, and no one gets me like you do. I mean, I took one look at you and threw caution to the wind. I never did that before in my whole life, and I can’t tell you how many times I’ve cursed that decision, because apparently the second I saw you I fell in love with the one man I can’t have.”

I reached up and pulled him down to me, my eyes closing as his lips sealed over mine.

“Jesus, Weber, do you realize you sigh like you’re coming home every time you kiss me?”

“Yeah, I know,” I grumbled.

“Don’t sound so happy about it.”