Rough and Ready (More Than A Cowboy 2)

I startled at the voice. I turned on my heel and looked up at Giles. Yes, he was handsome, his dark hair falling rakishly over his forehead, and the slight twist of his lips when he smiled was appealing. He wore a tweed coat with the patches on the elbows along with hunter green wool pants. I wasn’t sure if he fit the stereotype of an overly intelligent Englishman or a senior lecturer of arts. I thought back to when I’d gone to pick up pizza with Reed. He’d mentioned the elbow patches then and had been pretty accurate with his image of an art history professor.

I shrugged and tried to shake off Cam’s text, but it was really hard. He had someone watching for me, and the thought that my apartment was no longer safe completely freaked me out.

I realized Giles was waiting for me to say something. I pasted on a brittle smile. “This presentation is important to the department. I might only be a guest lecturer, but I like to help.”

His lips turned, but his gaze drifted down my body before looking me in the eye.

“You could be more than just a guest. You could take the job I know you’ve been offered.”

I could and based on Cam’s latest text, the idea held more and more appeal.

“Everyone’s going home after the presentation for the long holiday. Are you headed to the airport—” He stepped close, close enough that anyone passing would think we were more than just colleagues. “—or are you staying for a few days?”

A few days meant time in his bed. Not just the storage closet down the hall. God, it would be so easy to take what he offered, giving myself to someone, to forget Cam and my fucked-up life. Giles was harmless. He wouldn’t hurt me. Sleeping with him would give me just what I ached for. Arms to hold me as I struggled. A sated man to know I had something to offer. The attraction between us had been enough where I’d been wet when we fucked, but not enough to come. That hadn’t been his fault. No one made me come. And no one took me to his bed.

I thought of Reed. His bad boy looks that didn’t match the way he touched me. The way he hadn’t taken anything from me. The way he’d made me come. He was the only one to have done so.

Giles’ fingers squeezed my shoulder, bringing me out of my thoughts. His touch was gentle but didn’t awaken me as he probably wanted. As he once had. I breathed in his crisp cologne and missed Reed’s clean scent: soap, sweat and man.

“I’m?

?? I’m not sure yet.”

I lied. I was staying. My return ticket was for Christmas day, but I didn’t know if I wanted to spend any of the time before then with him. I craved the thought of him touching me, of the connection I’d feel when he was inside me. I hurt, and I knew I’d be soothed, even if temporarily. I craved the thought. Not him.

“Or.” He drew the word out, so I had to meet his gaze. Only then did he lean in, whisper, “Or we could go to one of the study rooms down the hall. They’re empty since the term is over.”

My gaze flicked to the side corridor where there were a row of small rooms used as quiet work spaces. The building was Victorian with wood paneling and stone floors and laid out with the mindset of an 1800’s architect. The only people in the building were the lecturers and guests involved in the meeting. There were a number of places where we could go for a quickie without being seen or heard. Before I could respond, someone waved to us from down the hall, prompting our return to work. Giles sighed at the opportunity lost. Not that I was going to agree, but I had before.

I entered the meeting room, Giles having opened the door for me. I didn’t miss the look he gave me. We weren’t done talking. I took my seat, and the discussion about the proposed foundation work picked up, but I looked down at the phone in my lap, at Cam’s latest text. I felt the anger, the frustration build again.

This was the moment Reed was talking about. The moment when I wanted to grab Giles and drag him into a study room and fuck. I wouldn’t get off, I would only see the smile of satisfaction on his face as he tied off the used condom and tossed it in the trash. I’d feel good knowing I made him feel good, but that was it. There was nothing in it for me. No satisfaction. I’d have to wait until I was back in my hotel room to touch myself, to make myself come. Then, it would be an empty release. But I’d forget about Cam, about how he was going to be free tomorrow. If he could mess with me from jail, I could only imagine what he was going to do when he got out. Then there were my parents. He’d already pitted them against me.

I let my eyes slip closed, aching for a connection, knowing I was pathetic. I used sex as a way to validate my worth, and it wasn’t working. It only made it worse. A painful lump lodged in my throat. Tears. I wasn’t a crier. No. I didn’t cry. I wouldn’t cry here. Not in a roomful of people. Colleagues.

With shaking fingers, I typed out a text to Reed.

Me: Awake?

I lifted my head, listened to the woman at the far end of the table speaking about English historic preservation laws until I felt my cell vibrate in my palm.

Reed: Good thing you’re not a math professor. Your time zone calculations are terrible. It’s 9. Just finished my morning training.

The corner of my mouth tipped up and somehow, I felt better. Just knowing Reed was there, even from so far away. I’d reached out, and he’d responded. I could see him in those MMA shorts he wore, the black ones that rode low on his lean hips, the ones with the little slits on the sides of the thighs. I couldn’t miss the hard muscle there whenever he moved. He’d be wearing a T-shirt, damp with his sweat, his dark hair a mess, scruff on his jaw. I squirmed in my hard chair at the vision in my head.

Reed: How are the fish and chips? See the Loch Ness Monster?

I bit my lip to keep from smiling outright.

Me: Boring meeting.

Reed: That’s the problem with being so smart. You have to use your brain. I get to work with my fists.

I thought about those hands and what he’d been able to do with them. The way they’d touched me so gently even knowing how dangerous they could be.

Me: I’m not paying any attention to the meeting.

Reed: Are you being a bad girl, princess?