Rough, Raw, and Ready (Rough Riders 5) - Page 6
“Something?” He rolled his hips and his semi-soft dick twitched inside her. “Who’s in who right now?”
“Get off me, you brute.” She sucked in a quick breath, even when he eased out with painstaking care. “I think you broke the headboard.”
“Was worth it. You oughta be talkin’. One of them shrieks rattled the damn light fixtures. If Edgard was sleepin’, he wasn’t after that.”
Damn. She’d completely forgotten about their houseguest. Chassie wondered if Trevor had forgotten too.
Or was that the reason for his overly amorous behavior? To prove to his buddy that marriage hadn’t tamed him? He was still a wild man between the sheets?
A ripple of anxiety surfaced again and it wasn’t as easy for her to shrug off this time.
After Trevor returned from the bathroom he flipped her on her back. “Now I’m ready to taste that sweet spot.”
Definitely in a mood.
Chapter Three
Thump thump thump.
Edgard sprawled on the bed in the guestroom next to Trevor and Chassie’s bedroom, staring at the ceiling fan, listening to them having sex.
For the second time.
Which was pure torture.
No doubt in Edgard’s mind that Trevor was f**king his hot little wife just to prove a point: Trevor didn’t want him. Trevor didn’t need him. Trevor knew full well that Edgard heard every squeak of the bedsprings, every deep male groan, every feminine plea, every collective gasp and pleasured scream through the paper-thin walls. Every telltale bang of the headboard.
Thump thump thump.
How f**ked up would it be if Edgard unzipped his jeans and started whacking off to the sounds of their passion?
Seriously f**ked up. Pathetically f**ked up. Perverted.
“What you do with other men is perverted and wrong. You disgust me. You disgust all of us. You should be ashamed.”
Yeah. Great timing for that ugly memory to pop up.
With the life altering events he’d suffered recently, Edgard wondered if he’d ever be happy again. Through his haze of melancholy his mother’s lilting voice reminded him,
“You find happiness where you least expect it. When in doubt, go back to the beginning.”
Thump thump thump.
Was it sheer idiocy that Edgard considered Trevor a beginning? When Edgard was the one who’d ended things between them? Yet here he was, wishing for things he couldn’t have. Creating more miserable memories to drown in.
Thump thump thump.
Then silence. No squeaking. No groaning.
Was Trevor indulging in his softer side with his wife? Kissing her sweetly and cuddling her to that amazingly hard, sweat-covered body? Giving Chassie the intimate connection in the aftermath of loving that Edgard used to revel in? That rare affection he’d been so desperate to have?
Feminine giggles followed by male laughter echoed against the wall and put an ache in Edgard’s soul.
Enough.
Edgard pushed to his feet, adjusted his throbbing c**k and headed downstairs. The burning need to tuck tail and run was riding him hard as he slipped outside, but once again he was reminded he had nowhere else to go.
Later, when they’d sat down to supper, Chassie said, “So, Edgard, you feelin’ up to a little honky-tonkin’ tonight? There’s a great band playin’ at the Rusty Spur.”
Startled, Edgard peered up from his bowl of stew. “Is there a special occasion for going out dancing?”
“No. Why would you ask that?”
Edgard shrugged. “Because if I remember correctly, Trevor wasn’t all that crazy about dancing.”
“He isn’t.” Chassie grinned at him. “But he convinced me he loved two-steppin’ when we were dating. So I figure him tryin’ to skip out on it now that we’re married is cheatin’ at best, false advertising at worst.”
Trevor snorted.
“Besides, I refuse to let us turn into one of those married couples who are old before their time. Don’t do anything fun, don’t try anything new, just work or become homebodies watchin’ the boob tube as entertainment.”
“Right. You just wanna flaunt your hot little ass at all those horny ranch hands who didn’t pay attention to you when you were single,” Trevor said dryly.
“Can you blame me? It’s such sweet revenge to see them trippin’ over their boots and tongues when they see me shakin’ my groove thang.” Chassie snagged a dinner roll.
“Please make my whole night, Ed. Tell me you love to dance and you were Brazilian national tango champion or something.”
He smiled back, absolutely charmed by Trevor’s wife. “I can’t claim champion status, but I know my way around a dance floor.”
“Yay! I take it you and Trevor went dancin’ once or twice when you were traveling together?”
Chassie didn’t mean he and Trevor danced together as partners, but it did remind Edgard of the few times he’d convinced Trevor to dance with him when they’d been alone. It’d been disastrous. The man had two left feet. “Ah. Yeah. We went out to the rodeo or community dances sometimes.”
“Come on, dish the details on my husband’s bad behavior on the circuit.”
Another loaded question. Edgard countered, “You trying to get me in trouble, Miz Chassie?”
“No, but I’d like to hear an insider’s point of view since Colby won’t tell me nothin’ either.”
“That’s because your cousin is a smart man.”
“Pooh. It’s not fair. You guys all stick together and keep your dirty little secrets.
That stuff happened a long time ago. What’s the harm in telling me now?”
Trevor and Edgard made a point of not looking at each other.
“Just one little teeny-tiny thing?” Chassie pleaded, “Please?”
He glanced at Trevor who shrugged indifferently.
“Okay. Must’ve been five years ago, at a rodeo dance down south someplace, this pesky woman wouldn’t leave Trev alone. Just to get rid of her, Trev agrees and she leads him out on the floor. Trev spins them around, stops, and acts like he’s gonna barf. She freaks out and dumps him off with her friend, who Trevor had the hots for in the first place. So Trev’s pulling this, ‘I’m so woozy’ line of crap, convinces the little bunny he needs to lay down—”
Chassie rolled her eyes.
“—and being the good Samaritan, the woman escorts him back to the living quarters in the horse trailer, where Trevor had a miraculous recovery. They ended up dancing after all.” Edgard shook his head and sent Chassie a sly look. “’Cept it was mattress dancing.”
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