“I’d ask if it was good for you, but I’d have to form a coherent thought to talk.”
He laughed and kissed her forehead. “Yeah.”
“Spoken like a true caveman.”
“Baby, if it got any better, I don’t think I’d survive.”
She propped up on her elbow and smirked. “You ain’t seen nothin’ yet, cowboy.” She licked her lips in a show of bravado, relishing that his eyes tracked her tongue. She finished the gesture by tapping the tip of her tongue against her top lip, as if she licked something else entirely. His gratifying groan elicited a laugh. “Oh yeah, buddy. Just you wait. The night is young.”
He smirked back. “Be careful what you ask for, darlin’. A challenge like that might just jump up and bite you on the ass.”
Eight
Cass drowsed in Chance’s arms, content but all too aware she needed to get up, get dressed and get him to drive her home. She had chores to do. Since coming home, she’d pitched in to ease the burden on Boots. He was older than her father, and while he looked hale and hearty, he was seventy. He didn’t need to be wrestling bales of hay or mucking stalls. And truthfully, she really didn’t want him to know she’d spent the night with Chance. Feeling way too much like a delinquent teen, she slipped out of the circle of arms holding her. Tiptoeing across the room, she shut the door to the bathroom before flipping on the light.
The reflection staring back at her from the mirror showed a woman who’d been well and truly loved. Swollen lips, a slightly abraded cheek—darn his shadow beard—half-lidded eyes and hair that looked like a windstorm had blown through. She ran cold water from the faucet and splashed her face. Using her finger as a toothbrush, she attempted to freshen her breath. But when it came to her hair, running her fingers through it only created more snags. Talk about a major case of bed head. Reluctant to rummage through his drawers or medicine cabinet, though denying her curiosity almost killed her, she flipped off the light and opened the door—only to run smack dab into a muscular chest.
“You’re up early.”
She tilted her head to look up at him. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to wake you, but now that you are...I need to go home, ’kay?”
His eyes narrowed. “No, not okay. Why?”
“I have chores.”
He blinked at her and rubbed a hand across his face as if clearing the last bit of sleep befuddlement from his head. “Chores?”
“Chores. At the ranch. Horses to feed. Cows to feed. Stalls to muck. You’re a cowboy.” She glanced around, curious now about the luxury condo. “Allegedly. Surely you’ve done ranch work before?”
He scratched his chest, an idle gesture that drew her gaze. She inhaled sharply, her nostrils flaring as his scent filled her. Musk, leather and something clean—like fresh laundry hanging on a clothesline on a hot summer day. She almost laughed at the thought. No one smelled like sunshine.
“Want to grab a shower? We can share, save time and water?”
“Do you really think the two of us in the shower will save time?”
“Well, we could do it with you sitting on the counter, but I sort of like wet and wild.” He backed her into the bathroom and flicked on the light. “Won’t be as thorough as I’d like, but it’ll take the edge off.”