close, his woodsy cologne wafted through my nostrils, permeating my senses, sparking need and desire to flow.
“Hmmm, I never used to be until I bought this place,” I answered, staying still with my back to him.
“I guess living here in the heart of cattle country, it is pretty much a requirement to develop a taste, hey?” Nixx’s voice got closer, I could feel the heat of his front radiating on my back, warming me. How did he do that without even touching me?
“I guess,” I whispered, my breath catching in my throat when I felt the lightest touch of his hand on my hip. Tensing, but not because I didn’t like the feeling, but because I did. Earlier, when he touched me, each had been just as gentle yet so terrifying in the way they evoked a part of me I thought didn’t exist in me anymore. Alec was not a touchy-feely man, at least not with me. His favourite gripe about me was that I was a cold, frigid ice queen, never inviting his touch. Nothing could have been further from the truth. Our first time had been painful and traumatic for me. What I built up in my teenage mind about sex, in reality, was nothing short of disastrous. Alec never took his time to ready me, a virgin with no knowledge of what her body needed to accept a man into her body. My parents sheltered me from the world of boys, sending me to an all-girls catholic high school on a full scholarship from the church, vetting my friends and approving any friend I did manage to make. Even sleep-overs were a trial, days of back and forth with the parents asking questions of who was going to be in the house. Did they have sons, and if yes, what were their ages? It was no wonder the minute I got a taste of freedom, I had sex with the first guy to show me interest.
We ended up in separate rooms after Dillion’s birth. Alec stating he needed his sleep, and a crying infant would just keep him awake. He thought it better for me to be close to the baby so I could get up before any of the noise reached our … his room. After six months and no invite to come back to our bed, I assumed he liked the arrangement, so instead, I set up that spare room as mine and moved in there.
I really did get screwed in my marriage.
Garth crooned through the speakers, the song telling a story of a man nervous about going on a blind date, pretending that everything was okay. Not unlike how Nixx made me feel. Nervous, only I wasn’t pretending. My smile was real, as were the tingles shooting to my core every time Nixx’s fingers softly moved over my hip.
“Nice song, isn’t it?” Nixx murmured, his chin sitting on my shoulder, his hands slowly moving forward until they were sitting on my lower belly, his back now pressed entirely against me.
“Yep,” I choked out, totally out of my comfort zone, but loving the contact with the handsome cowboy.
“Farron,” Noxx breathed, the peak of his cap coming down to rest on my collarbone, hiding his face, not that I could see it because my eyes were trained on the glass and lights of the jukebox. Hell, I don’t even think I was breathing at that point, as I waited for some kind of guidance from? Who me? Yeah, like I knew what to do in a situation like this. The last time Alec held me had been when the photographer hired to take our wedding photos kindly suggested it would be nicer if the groom put his arm around his bride, not look like he wanted to run from her.
“Hmmm?”
Oh, good one Farron, good use of your private education. One worded answers and hums.
Strong hands turned me around and two beautiful, piercing blue eyes replaced the scenery. With one hand on one hip, Nixx reached up and slowly took the worn cap from his head, tucking it in his back pocket.
“Dance with me?” Not waiting for me to comply or deny him, Nixx moved on the spot, his body slowly swaying both he and I to the soft beat. His hand went back to sit just below my waist, holding me on either side of my thighs.
“Breathe Farron, we are just dancing, baby. You can put your arms around me, I won’t bite,” Nixx joked,