Cowboy Casanova (Rough Riders #12)(6)

stayed home and organized her spice cupboard.


No. You need to add spice to your life—specifically your sex life—not keep it bottled

up in your kitchen.


Layla bounced on the bed beside her. “What’s really going on?”


“What if I can’t? I mean, what if Dean was right?” Beg any decent man to tie you up

and spank you during sex and he’ll be out the door.


“First of all, your ex-husband was a tool. He blamed you for his…ah…shortcomings.”


Ainsley snickered.


“Look, sweetie, we’ve been friends for a long time. You settled for Dean. You were

over thirty, panicked about being unmarried and alone, and picked the first guy who

wasn’t a total troll. Your sex life with him was as predictable as every other part of

your life with him. It wasn’t a good match, no matter how hard you tried to convince

yourself otherwise.”


“True. Thanks for the pep talk.”


“The club may not be your thing. But you won’t know unless you try it.”


“Murphy is okay with me just observing?” The other club she’d visited had strict

policies about guest expectations. She hoped she didn’t stand out like some wide-eyed

wannabe tonight, although technically, she was.


Layla smirked. “I handled Murphy. You are my old friend, Angel, from my banking days.

” Her phone buzzed and she said, “Give me a minute.”


Ainsley’s thoughts drifted to her failed marriage as she stared at the hotel room

ceiling. During the first year of wedded bliss, both she and Dean were so smug about

how theirs was a true partnership. Neither had more control financially, emotionally or

physically over the other. They were equals. They both held upper level management jobs

in the banking industry. They shared the household chores. They took turns cooking and

doing laundry.


The only change during their second year of marriage was their sex life became more

perfunctory. But they’d talked about it, Dean assuring her that desire fades.

Reminding her that friendship, companionship, open communication, common interests and

mutual career goals were far more important than sex.


During their third year of marriage, what Ainsley thought she’d loved about Dean began

to drive her crazy. His insistence on everything being a joint decision. From where

they ate dinner, to the type of wine they drank, to which place changed the oil in

their cars. When he asked for her help in choosing a spring vacation destination, she’

d suggested that he surprise her. He argued surprises weren’t fun. She argued

meticulous planning wasn’t fun. That’s when they started to argue about a lot of

other things.


Ainsley realized while she appreciated some aspects of a well-ordered life, there was

something missing in hers. Passion. Excitement. Spontaneity.


One night, in year four, she’d decided to rev up their sex life. She stripped in the

living room in front of the TV, dropped to all fours and asked Dean to f*ck her from

behind.


Flustered by her crude demand, Dean refused.


She tried again a few weeks later, on the way home from a cocktail party. Tipsy and

feeling naughty, she tried to give Dean a blowjob in their Volvo.