Hold Me, Cowboy

“Nobody likes blue balls, Maddy, even if they don’t have testicles.”

She forced a laugh through her constricted throat. “That’s hilarious,” she said.

He looked up at her slowly. “No,” he said, “it wasn’t.”

She let out a long, slow breath. “Okay,” she said, “it wasn’t that funny. But here’s the thing. The reason I was so looking forward to tonight is that I hadn’t had sex with Christopher before. In fact, I haven’t had sex with anyone in ten years. So. Maybe you could help me with that?”

Three (#uca1a7fb8-be3c-5cb2-93ad-182cb892c2f8)

Sam was pretty sure he must be hallucinating. Because there was no way Madison West had just propositioned him. Especially not on the heels of admitting that it had been ten years since she’d had sex.

Hell, he was starting to think that he was the celibacy champion. But clearly, Maddy had him beat. Or she didn’t, because there was no way in hell that she had actually said any of that.

“Are you drunk, Madison?” It was the first thing that came to mind, and it seemed like an important thing to figure out.

“After one Jack Daniel’s and Coke? Absolutely not. I am a West, dammit. We can hold our liquor. I am...reckless, opportunistic and horny. A lot horny. I just... I need this. Sam, do you know what it’s like to go ten years without doing something? It becomes a whole thing. Like, a whole big thing that starts to define you, even if it shouldn’t. And you don’t want anyone to know. Oh, my gosh, can you even imagine if my friends knew that it has been ten years since I have seen an actual...?” She took a deep breath, then forged on. “I’m rambling and I just really need this.”

Sam felt like he had been hit over the head with a metric ton of iron. He had no idea how he was supposed to respond to this—the strangest of all propositions—from a woman who had professed to hate him only a few moments ago.

He had always thought Madison was a snob. A pain in his ass, even if she was a pretty pain in the ass. She was always looming around, looking down her nose at him while he did his work. As though only the aristocracy of Copper Ridge could possibly know how to do the lowly labor he was seeing to. Even if they hadn’t the ability to do it themselves.

The kinds of people who professed to have strengths in “management.” People who didn’t know how to get their hands dirty.

He hated people like that. And he had never been a fan of Madison West.

He, Sam McCormack, should not be interested in taking her up on her offer. No, not in any way. However, Sam McCormack’s dick was way more interested in it than he would’ve liked to admit.

Immediately, he was rock hard thinking about what it would be like to have her delicate, soft hands skimming over him. He had rough hands. Workman’s hands. The kind of hands that a woman like Madison West had probably never felt against her rarefied flesh.

Hell, the fact that it had been ten years since she’d gotten any made that even more likely. And damn if that didn’t turn him on. It was kind of twisted, a little bit sick, but then, it was nothing short of what he expected from himself.

He was a lot of things. Good wasn’t one of them.

Ready to explode after years of repressing his desires, after years of pushing said desire all down and pretending it wasn’t there? He was that.

“I’m not actually sure you want this,” he said, wondering what the hell he was doing. Giving her an out when he wanted to throw her down and make her his.

Maddy stood up, not about to be cowed by him. He should have known that she would take that as a challenge. Maybe he had known that. Maybe it was why he’d said it.

That sounded like him. That sounded a lot more like him than trying to do the honorable thing.

“You don’t know what I want, Sam,” she said, crossing the space between them, swaying her hips just a little bit more than she usually did.

He would be a damn liar if he said that he had never thought about what it might be like to grab hold of those hips and pull Maddy West up against him. To grind his hardness against her soft flesh and make her feel exactly what her snobby-rich-girl mouth did to him.

But just because he’d fantasized about it before, didn’t mean he had ever anticipated doing it. It didn’t mean that he should take her up on it now.

Still, the closer she got to him, the less likely it seemed that he was going to say no.

“I think that after ten years of celibacy a man could make the argument that you don’t know what you want, Madison West.”

Her eyes narrowed, glittering blue diamonds that looked like they could cut a man straight down to the bone. “I’ve always known what I wanted. I may not have always made the best decisions, but I was completely certain that I wanted them. At the time.”

His lips tipped upward. “I’m just going to be another at the time, Maddy. Nothing else.”

“That was the entire point of this weekend. For me to have something that didn’t have consequences. For me to get a little bit of something for myself. Is that so wrong? Do I have to live a passionless existence because I made a mistake once? Am I going to question myself forever? I just need to... I need to rip the Band-Aid off.”

“The Band-Aid?”

“The sex Band-Aid.”

He nodded, pretending that he understood. “Okay.”

“I want this,” she said, her tone confident.

“Are you...suggesting...that I give you...sexual healing?”

She made a scoffing sound. “Don’t make it sound cheesy. This is very serious. I would never joke about my sexual needs.” She let out an exasperated sigh. “I’m doing this wrong. I’m just...”

Suddenly, she launched herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her lips against his. The moment she did it, it was like the strike of a hammer against hot iron. As rigid as he’d been before—in that moment, he bent. And easily.

Staying seated in the chair, he curved himself around Madison, wrapping his arms around her body, sliding his hands over her back, down to the sweet indent of her waist, farther still to the flare of those pretty hips. The hips he had thought about taking hold of so many times before.

There was no hesitation now. None at all. There was only this. Only her. Only the soft, intoxicating taste of her on his tongue. Sugar, Jack Daniel’s and something that was entirely Maddy.

Too rich for his blood. Far too expensive for a man like him. It didn’t matter what he became. Didn’t matter how much money he had in his bank account, he would always be what he was. There was no escaping it. Nobody knew. Not really. Not the various women who had graced his bed over the years, not his brother, Chase.

Nobody knew Sam McCormack.

At least, nobody alive.

Neither, he thought, would Madison West. This wasn’t about knowing anybody. This was just about satisfying a need. And he was simple enough to take her up on that.

He wedged his thigh up between her legs, pressing his palm down on her lower back, encouraging her to flex her hips in time with each stroke of his tongue. Encouraging her to satisfy that ache at the apex of her thighs.

Her head fell back, her skin flushed and satisfaction grabbed him by the throat, gripping him hard and strong. It would’ve surprised him if he hadn’t suspected he was the sort of bastard who would get off on something like this.

Watching this beautiful, classy girl coming undone in his arms.

She was right. This weekend could be out of time. It could be a moment for them to indulge in things they would never normally allow themselves to have. The kinds of things that he had closed himself off from years ago.

Softness, warmth, touch.

He had denied himself all those things for years. Why not do this now? No one would know. No one would ever have to know. Maddy would see to that. She would never, no chance in hell, admit that she had gotten down and dirty with a man who was essentially a glorified blacksmith.

No way in hell.

That made them both safe. It made this safe. Well, as safe as fire this hot could be.