Page 78 of CowSex

His mouth is still close to my ear when he starts to sing along. The words tell a story of a man offering his scarred and beat-up heart to a girl if she wants it.

My whole body tightens when the heat of his breath both warms and chills my skin each time he sings that it’s mine if I want it.

I’m not entirely sure what it is that he’s offering, but I’m pretty positive that if it’s something that belongs to him, then hell yeah, of course I want it.

His heart maybe?

I wonder if the words are his way of communicating the way he really feels.

Has he changed his mind?

Does he want something more than just a fuck and run?

The notion is beyond ridiculous. Despite his constant flirting, Koa’s made it clear that he wants nothing but straight-up, no-strings sex, and his heart is definitely not something that’s on offer.

Six or seven times today, I seriously considered just shagging him out of my system. I know that I declared last night that I wasn’t that kind of girl, but around him, that all goes out the window, and I’m acutely aware that I’m just talking total bollocks to myself.

I wonder if it’s at all possible to fuck a man like Koa Carmichael out of your system. Probably not, but I bet it’d be fun trying.

“You wanna dance some more or grab a drink?” he asks quietly while looking down at me.

The music has changed again, and there’s a proper shit-kicking, yee-haw, boot-stomping tune playing. Maybe in six months, I will have perfected my line dancing moves, but right now, drop me the fuck out.

“Let’s get a drink please, I’m cream crackered after cutting all them moves at this altitude.”

He leans back and smiles down at me. “Cream crackered?”

“Yes, Cowboy. Cream crackered—knackered.”

He shakes his head and smiles. “Best clue me in, Essex, ’cause I ain’t got a Scooby.” Bats let loose in my belly when he attempts to talk my lingo, and I can’t help grinning at him. His smile softens before he pulls me in and says against my cheek, “I fucking love when you smile so big it makes that one dimple appear. You’ve no idea what it does to me, no fucking idea.”

I have no air in my lungs and no bones in my body. I just stand there, breathless, loose-limbed, and slack-jawed as I stare at him.

“I need the toilet,” I blurt. Before he can say any more, I weave my way through the people that are line dancing all around me and follow the signs for the ladies room.

I use the toilet, wash my hands, and stare at myself in the mirror.

This needs to stop. I either fuck him and get it out of the way, or I put a lid on the flirting right now.

I don’t know which it is I’m gonna choose.

I make my way back to our table, Koa has his back to me, but appears to be talking to a striking, dark-haired woman.

“And there’s nothing going on?” I hear her ask.

“Nothing,” he replies. “She helped me shop for my kids’ bedrooms today, so I asked her along tonight so that she wasn’t sitting home alone.”

That hurts. He told me in the truck that he asked because he enjoyed my company, now he’s saying it’s because he feels sorry for me.

“Well you looked nice and cosy out on the dance floor,” the woman states.

“Shan, she’s fucking hot, I’m single and so is she. Horny is what we looked on the dance floor. Horny, but definitely not cosy. Cosy is not something I ever plan on getting with a woman again, and you know this.”

And there it is. If I had any doubt before about his intentions, I now know them for sure. I just heard them loud and clear.

My throat feels tight, and I really could cry right now, a combination of hurt and humiliation hitting me, but I manage to pull myself together as Dean appears at the table.

“There’s a drink here for you, Gracie.”