Holly Jolly Cowboy (The Wyoming Cowboy #7)(52)

And she’d loved every moment of it. So much for being enemies.

She lounged in bed, her hand between her thighs, where her body still throbbed. Holly knew she should get up and start the day, but it was nice to just daydream for a few, imagining Adam’s hands on her, his mouth on hers as his hand worked her to orgasm. It had been a long time since she’d had sex, and even longer since a man had made her orgasm.

Now she was like a junkie needing a fix. She couldn’t think of anything but touching him again. Of opening the door to his cabin and crawling into his bed and riding him like the wanton, needy woman she was.

Except the sun was up and he probably wasn’t even in bed. So . . . there was that.

Lord, she needed a distraction. Holly pulled herself from bed, walked the dog, and headed down to the kitchen. She’d bake something, she decided. Something chocolatey and delicious and difficult to make so she could focus on a distraction. She needed to make dinner, too. Lasagna? Chicken Parm? She wondered which one he’d like more.

Of course . . . she could always text him.

Her heart pounded like a schoolgirl’s at the thought. Why did texting him feel so darn personal? He’d had his fingers in her panties—inside her—yesterday. Texting was nothing. And yet . . . it felt like a lot. She didn’t want to seem needy. He’d laugh if she fell in love with him or something stupid like that.

Even so . . .

Holly picked up her phone. Stared at it, thinking. Sage had given her both Carson’s and Adam’s numbers when she’d left, just in case she needed to communicate with them about anything. While Carson never seemed to stop texting about anything and everything, Adam had never texted her. Would it be too pushy? Would it ruin their easy flirtation?

Of course, was it even easy anymore if he’d fingered her until she came? Ugh, she didn’t know, and she hated that she didn’t know. Frustrated, she texted her boss instead, asking if he needed her to come in. Maybe if she was working, she wouldn’t obsess over Adam and his big, strong hands.

When her boss texted back, though, he told her he didn’t need the extra help. Holly groaned, slumping on the couch and staring morosely at her phone.

She’d just text him, she decided. Texts were no big deal. Everyone texted.

HOLLY: Hey there.

Shit. Did she sound too flirty? Too needy? Too I’m desperate for dick? She quickly typed some more, as if that could somehow fix things.

HOLLY: I’m heading to the grocery store.

HOLLY: Soon. I mean, I’m not there yet. I’m just going soon.

HOLLY: I wanted to see if we were doing dinner tonight?

HOLLY: Not that we have to, of course. I just wanted to see if you wanted to have dinner like we have this week.

HOLLY: I was thinking Chicken Parmigiana or maybe a homemade lasagna.

HOLLY: That’s why I texted.

HOLLY: I’m going to make a cake, too. I was thinking Black Forest. Do you have any feelings on cherries?

She almost typed more, and then stopped herself, horrified at the wall of text she was sending in his direction. Good lord, what was wrong with her? Holly pressed a hand to her forehead, cringing at all the texts. She was coming across as an absolute nut job, wasn’t she? If he wasn’t going to run away screaming before, he sure was now.

The text that came in surprised her with how quickly he responded.

ADAM: Today’s your day off, right? Relax. Take a break.

ADAM: Whatever is easiest. Sandwiches are fine. It doesn’t have to be anything crazy. We can just hang out.

Like an idiot, she absolutely melted over his texts. He wanted her to relax? To take a break? Didn’t he realize that she needed a project to distract her because she didn’t want to be alone with her thoughts?

Because all of those thoughts were entirely about jumping his bones? She thought for a minute, and then texted him again.

HOLLY: Sandwiches it is . . . but I’ll make the bread fresh.

HOLLY: And I’ll still make a cake, but I’ll only do one tier.

ADAM: Jesus woman, do you even know the meaning of the word relax? Lol.

HOLLY: Are you kidding? That IS relaxing for me.

HOLLY: Are you buried today? Should I leave you alone?

ADAM: It’s all good. Just checking the cattle for runny noses.

HOLLY: Er, okay.

ADAM: I’ll explain when I come in for lunch. Be there in about an hour.

HOLLY: Ok!

An hour. Shit! She had an hour to get ready. With a nervous flutter of her hand to her hair, Holly raced off the couch and headed for the shower. It wasn’t a date, she told herself . . . but that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to shave her legs and fix her hair.

You know, just in case.

Holly cleaned up and blow-dried her hair. She put on a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt, because she didn’t want to look like she was trying too hard . . . but then she stripped them off, put on her prettiest bra and matching panties, and then dressed again. If things progressed between them, she wanted to be ready. Was she going to sleep with Adam, no strings attached? If he could give her an orgasm like he did yesterday, she absolutely would.

After all, she was an adult. She was allowed to have meaningless sex, right? Right.

She was a little bit nervous when she headed down to the kitchen, though. Of course she was. If he pulled her against him and lifted that cocky eyebrow like he did just before he kissed her in that sexy way of his, she was absolutely going to fling herself at him.