Page 19 of Primal

This man wanted me. Me! But he was returning me to town because we’d bargained. I wasn’t going to say a word to anyone about what happened with Tyler today. Who would believe me? I wasn’t telling anyone about Cody either because until a few hours ago, he wasMr. McIntire.

My girlfriends would be envious–because he was a DILF–but they’d also think I was nuts. He was old. Like forty. He had a kid my age. I was in college. I had my whole life ahead of me. I wanted the picket fence. The dog. The babies. Since my mother left when I was seven, all I wanted was a mom who stuck. To come home from school to hugs and snacks. To have someone help me with science fair projects and hairstyles. To teach me how to shave my legs. All the things a mom did. Well, except mine. She hadn’t beeninterested… ever. Mom and Dad dated and had an accidental pregnancy. Me.

But Dad wasn’t the only guy she’d dated while they were together. From what I picked up from Dad, and the entire town, was that my mother was a player. No, that term was for guys. She was a slut. No, promiscuous. Loose. Those were all words I’d heard associated with her over the years. Whispers behind my back and some to my face. I wouldn’t put a woman down for wanting sex as much as a man—thus my annoyance with the player vs. slut terminology—but it didn’t include cheating or abandoning responsibilities.

Dad had tried his best, but the two of us in the bathroom with him showing me how to use a razor was laughable.

He loved me. That was never in question. But he was jaded about love and relationships after she walked out on us for a passing-through-town travel photographer. I had no idea what real love looked like, but I knew I wanted it. Wanted someone to be mine, to want me, and to keep me. To put me first.

Maybe it had been a good thing Cody and I hadn’t had sex because if there was a picture of a player in the dictionary, it’d be him. My head had been cloudedby lust because he was just that talented. My clear thinking had been fogged.

Except… a player fucked. That was the point of being a player. Cody hadn’t even gotten naked. I hadn’t touched him or seen his dick. He gave me orgasms. Knew now I wasn’t cold at all. Knew Matt and Ethan were clueless in bed. I should thank Cody for that alone.

As he slowed the Jeep and turned down my street, I kept right on thinking.

Then there was me, the virgin. Who never had a guy do more than kiss my mouth. Then a couple of aggressive, growly actions and words from Cody, and I wanted to have sex. Was this how my mother started? How she felt with a guy? Greedy for dick?

Oh my God,I was a horny slut. Avirginslut which was pretty much impossible but still... I wanted it wild. Naughty.

He slowed and put his Jeep in park in front of Nana’s house. Shifted to face me.

I cleared my throat. What did I say to a guy who had his face between my thighs and then wouldn’t screw me?

“Um, thanks, Mr. McIntire,” I bumbled. Yeah,real smooth.“I’ll, um… see you around.”

When I nervously lifted my eyes to his when he stayed quiet, I noticed his jaw was clenched.

“Cody,” he corrected then pointed at me. “Stay there.”

He climbed from his car and came around to open my door. He even reached in and undid my seatbelt. I picked up his scent. Clean and kinda spicy. I saw the flecks of gray at his temples. Noticed how full and… gah, perfect his mouth was. We’d kissed.

If I leaned in, I could do it again.

No, we had a bargain. He brought me home. No screwing. No telling.

He led me up the walk, his hand on the small of my back. “Code?” he asked, referring to the keyless lock Dad had put on Nana’s door, so we could get in with just a number code if there was an emergency.

“Six-two-four-seven,” I said.

He entered it and opened the door for me.

“I have to go to work,” he stated.

“Right,” I said, realizing it was close to dinnertime. He ran Cody’s Saloon. Not just ran it. Owned it. “Thanks for the, um… interesting time.”

He leaned in close, kissed me. Growled. Sniffed. “You’ll come by the bar tonight.”

My eyes widened in surprise. “What?”

“You heard me.”

“I can’t.”

“You can.” His voice was insistent.

“Besides not being twenty-one–”

“You can,” he said, cutting me off. “It’s legal. I just can’t serve you alcohol.”