Rough and Ready (More Than A Cowboy #2) - Vanessa Vale Page 0,35

we’d gone onto another bar, then this one. It was late, after two. I felt like an old man, not used to the late hour. Shit, I was usually asleep by ten. Late night partying didn’t work with pre-dawn workouts.

I’d felt my phone vibrate in my pocket, and when I saw Harper’s text, I spun around, facing away from everyone.

Me: Oh yeah?

Harper: You’re awake. Thought you’d see this when you got up.

Me: No worries, princess. Why am I proud of you?

Harper: Some of my colleagues were talking about MMA, and I was able to keep up. I spoke their language.

Me: I thought they spoke English over there.

Harper: I meant MMA talk. I knew what an RNC is.

I laughed then, picturing her making the arm motions for the rear naked choke, one of the many submissions in the sport.

Me: And how do you know about all that?

Harper: I watched you on YouTube.

Me: Ten minutes. Call me.

Harper: Oh. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were with someone. Sorry.

Me: Don’t be sorry. And I’m with the guys not someone. Call me in ten minutes, princess.

I stood then patted one of my friends on the shoulder and signaled I was leaving. I gave them both hand slaps—it was too loud to talk—and I bolted.

My apartment door closed behind me as my phone rang.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

“I’m sorry to bother when you’re with--”

“Princess,” I said with a whole lot of frustration.

She sighed, and I heard it across the miles. “What are we doing?” she asked.

I toed off my shoes, shrugged out of my coat as I pressed my phone to my ear with my shoulder.

“Talking.”

I heard her sigh. “This is way more than talking.”

I had no intention of telling her about the guys in the parking lot. If they weren’t for her, it didn’t matter. If they were there for her, I didn’t want to freak her out when she was so far away. I wanted her to freak out with me right beside her.

“Want to have phone sex?” I asked, trying again although not overly serious. One of these days, I’d get her relaxed enough with me to say yes.

She paused. “No.”

I stilled just inside my bedroom doorway. “Do you mean that no?”

Another pause. “No. You said… you said I shouldn’t get off with some random guy.”

Her voice lacked the usual determination. I ran my hand through my hair, frustrated that she still didn’t get it. Fuck, someone did a number on her. I had to assume it was her brother or at least her brother to start. “I’m not a random guy, princess. We sexted last night. And, I said if you need to get off, I’m the one to help.”

She was quiet, and I didn’t fill the silence. I waited her out. “I thought about it,” she finally admitted. “With someone else, I mean. Considered it earlier. It was offered.”

I flicked on my bedside lamp, a soft glow filled the room.

Anger bubbled up. Sexting didn’t mean commitment, but she’d considered fucking an Englishman after what we’d done? “A random guy wanted a quick fuck with you?”

“Not so random but yes.”

“What did you decide?”

We weren’t anything. She could fuck anyone she wanted, and I had no right to get mad. It didn’t mean I had to like the idea. I didn’t even know the guy, and I wanted to beat the shit out of him because he held no value for her if all he wanted was a willing hole for his dick.

“And?” I asked, holding my breath.

“And I turned him down.”

Thank fuck. “Because…”

She was quiet for a bit. “Because sexting with you is better than a quick fuck with him.”

I couldn’t help but sigh as I dropped onto my bed. “Then you need to get off again?”

“You want me to hang up, so we can sex text?”

“Hell, no,” I countered. “I want to hear you.” Fuck, did I want to listen to the sound she made when she came.

I waited, the crackle of the line almost deafening as I did so.

“It feels impersonal,” she admitted.

“What? Phone sex? As compared to sexting? Or Larry?” It was harsh, but I wanted to know. Needed to know her mind on this.

“Maybe more so than if I’d fucked Larry.”

I growled, and I didn’t give a shit if she heard it. “This, between us, princess? It’s nothing like what you would’ve done with Larry or that English prick who wanted to use you to blow his load. What we share, it’s special. Sexting or whatever we do. I want to