Cowboy Casanova (Rough Riders #12)(91)

Quinn. What’s up?” Ben frowned. “That’s today? Shit. No. I forgot. Thanks for the

reminder. I’ll be there in fifteen.” He hung up and headed straight for the shower.

Then he grabbed his clothes from the closet.


“Where are you going?”


“I told Quinn and Libby I’d watch Adam and Amelia today. Usually my mom volunteers to

baby-sit, but she’s outta town.” He buttoned his shirt. “I don’t know how long

I’ll be gone, so make yourself at home. No reason to get up.”


“You expect me to wait here for you all day?”


“Like I said, I don’t know how long I’ll be gone.”


Ainsley threw back the covers and angrily started gathering articles of clothing.


“Are you pissed off about this?”


“Yes.”


“Why?”


She held out her arm. A section of rope still dangled from her wrist. “Oh, maybe

because we’d barely finished screwing, and you left me half-tied to the damn bed so

you could answer your phone!”


Shit. He tried to catch her gaze but she stomped away. What was she trying to tell him

by calling that last heart pounding, body-pumping bout of sex…screwing? It’d been

more than that. It’d been freakin’ phenomenal.


“And then you gave me the impression that I was supposed to lie in bed all day and

wait for your triumphant return.”


“That’s not what I said.”


“Not in so many words.” Ainsley muttered as she yanked on her clothes.


“Something you wanna say to me? Instead of throwing me dirty looks and mumbling under

your breath?”



“I realize I’m your sub. But I’m not some object like your saddle. Hanging around

ready to be used when you need me, set aside when you don’t.”


Jesus. Did Ainsley really just compare herself to his saddle? And what the f*ck was up

with that “be used” comment?


She flounced to the bedroom doorway.


“Where do you think you’re goin?”


Ainsley deigned to give him a mocking look. “I’m going to the f*cking opera dressed

like this. Where do you think I’m going? I’m going home.”


“Like hell.”


“I’ve been here since Friday night. I need to check on my cats. Then I have to finish

unpacking and wash clothes. All things I’ve neglected, because I have a life besides

the one I spend bound for your pleasure.”


That smartass comment raised his blood pressure. “You trying to see how much hotter

you can make the water you’re already in, sub?”


“No. Sir, Bennett, Sir,” she snapped off with military precision and notched her chin

higher. “You told me we wouldn’t spend every waking minute together. We have this

weekend. I think I deserve a furlough.”


And it’d been one of the best weekends he could remember, not that he could tell her

that with the anger emanating from her like a poisonous cloud. Hey wait. Had she just

compared the weekend to a…prison sentence?


“I’ve got a busy week, so I’ll call you. Or maybe you’ll call me when you need to