Page 98 of Burned & Bound

“Turn around, cowboy,” he ordered. I scrutinized him for a hot minute before relenting. What I didn’t expect was the way he massaged shampoo into my hair. It was hard to be on edge when his fingers worked magic over my scalp. “Why’d you cut the long hair?”

“What?” I frowned.

“Your hair,” he repeated. “It used to be long. Why’d you cut it?”

My hair had been long once–like down to my shoulder blades—but that had been years ago.

“How’d you know about that?” I replied instead.

“I kept up with you over the years,” West admitted.He what?“Just your career. Shit the public knew. The tabloids were fun there for a while. They liked you. The League’s only openly gay cowboy with his long golden hair.”

I knew those articles, but I was a little too stunned for words. I’d just assumed he’d up and left—forgotten everything like I tried to forget him. It never occurred to me that he kept up with me that much.

“That,” I cleared my throat, “stupid commentary was why I cut it. Someone said I looked like a wannabe country singer.”

“They clearly haven’t heard you sing,” he muttered. I couldn’t even be offended with that one. I couldn’t sing if my life depended on it. “Head back.”

I complied easily, shutting my eyes while he rinsed out the soap. There was something undeniably comforting about how he ran his fingers through my hair—taking careful mind to the way he handled me. This kind of intimacy was foreign to me.Wonderful but foreign.

“Are you one of those weird people who fucking conditions their hair?” West asked when he was done.

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t just ask that,” I retorted. Apparently, I had to teach him a thing or two about proper hair care.

“Do they make it in a bar?” The amusement in his voice was unmistakable. I turned to chastise him, but he cut me off by kissing me. His tongue stroked mine as he took advantage of my surprise. Fingers wove through my hair as his body pushed flush to mine. The weight of his cock and the smoothness of his barbells pressed hard against my hip.

And there went any hope I had of controlling my dick.

But I had to focus.

“West…” I began. I wasn’t sure what the fuck to do. My dick had its own ideas from how it stood hard at attention between us—his too—but was this okay? I didn’t want to pick him up off the floor again and send him into the wild because something we did together sent him spiraling. I’d rather take care of myself so to speak if it meant protecting his headspace.

“It’s not your job to fix me,” he whispered.

“I ain’t trying to—”

“I want normal, Jackson,” West said over me. The desperate edge in his voice tugged at my heart. “How are we supposed to be normal if I don’t fucking try? I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing, but I’m here and I’m fucking trying. That’s something, isn’t it?”

It was fucking hard to argue with his logic. I wanted him to feel safe—to feel like we could be whatever he needed. His stables, his rules. How wasI supposed to argue with him wanting to try when I kept pushing the control in his hands?

“You tell me to stop if you need me to, you understand?” I replied. When he opened his mouth to protest, I shook my head. “I mean it. Don’t push yourself if you don’t want it, West—even if that changes somewhere in the middle. I don’t care. You’re more important than anything we do together.”

I hated that I even felt the need to say it, but I did.Fuck, if I had to reiterate that every time, I would.

“Okay,” West whispered.

CHAPTER 67

west

His warmth, the spice of his soap, the rough calluses in his touch.I was fucking sky high, my nerves ablaze and misfiring all over the place. His fingers skated up my sides as I walked him across the room, dripping wet and not caring. My teeth scraped over his lower lip, and I drank up the moan he let out.

We collapsed on the bed. As I settled between his thighs, Jackson ran his hands up my side. The simple gesture sent a myriad of sensations rolling through my body. When his fingers skated over the scars on my ribs, pain laced the pleasure. I went rigid, instinctively grabbing his wrist to stop him.

“It’s okay,” Jackson whispered. “Do you want to stop, West?”

“Just…” I shook my head, struggling to find the words.How did I make it make sense to him?I couldn’t explain them—the reminder of them. “Not there… just… don’t touch them…”

“Okay.” He lifted off the pillow and kissed me, slow and reassuring, while moving his hand to my lower back. I flexed my hips against his and groaned at the friction it created. My nerves lit up violently in a way that I couldn’t control. Couldn’t predict. My chest tightened.