Chapter 22
Needy anaconda of lust
Zoey
Iwas warm. Cozy. Wrung out. Limp as a noodle. But like a happy, sated noodle.
Awareness was coming back to me slowly. Crisp, clean sheets. Soft pillows. God, my bed was amazing. Why did I ever leave it?
I buried my nose deeper in the warm, smooth pillow under my face. Except it didn’t feel like a pillow. It was harder, almost hot.
I cracked one eye open and barely managed to clamp my hand over my mouth to muffle the screech.
I wasn’t draped over a pillow. I was sprawled over a naked Gage Bishop.
Delicious, orgasmic memories of last night flooded me.
The sex had been nothing short of phenomenal.
So obviously there was a problem. A gigantic one.
I’d fallen asleep. And not even in my own mattress zone. No, no, no. My stupid naked self was wrapped around Gage like some kind of needy anaconda of lust. I didn’t stay. I didn’t cuddle. I enjoyed myself and then I went home to my toothbrush, my bed, my ten-step skin-care routine.
But nooo. One unhinged night of multiple orgasms and I was just breaking the rules willy-nilly. Which told me how messed up I was, because I’d never once in my entire life used the word willy-nilly. I blamed Gage and his magic willy-nilly.
Eyes glued to Gage’s stupidly handsome sleeping face, I tried to ease out from under his arm.
A one-time, no-strings-attached fling did not involve spending the night snuggling. I didn’t know what weird monogamous spell the man had cast, but he wasn’t going to trap me here until he got tired of me. No matter how good in bed he was.
Holding my breath, I managed to roll to my opposite side and then carefully inch down the bed.
I kept right on sliding until my butt hit the floor at the foot of the bed.
Gage grumbled something in his sleep, and I stayed hidden under the comforter for several beats to make sure he wasn’t awake.
I popped my head up over the mattress like a prairie dog to take in the situation.
Gage’s blissful expression had turned to a pinched frown at my absence.
It would have been adorable if I had any interest in the man besides what his penis could deliver.
But I was Zoey Moody. Wild child, party girl, fun haver.
I was not Mrs. Bishop material. If last night had made one thing clear, it was that this man presented a clear and pleasant danger to my priorities.
Mr. Here Have Four Orgasms on Me mumbled something and rolled to his side where I’d been. Biting my lip, I grabbed my pillow and carefully smushed it against him. Pillow Decoy would buy me enough time to sneak out of the house…and…shit. My car wasn’t here. It was back at the Fish Hook.
Damn it. I was going to have to call Hazel from the driveway. I’d never hear the end of it, but it was better than Gage waking up and us having some kind of awkward morning-after conversation.
Ugh. It was too early, and my brain was too fuzzy for a crisis. I was going to stick with my instinct and leave. Besides, since I was already awake for the day, I could spend the rest of the morning being productive and listing the next round of wardrobe items for sale online.
I army crawled around on the floor, picking up items of clothing. I found my bra and leggings that I’d salvaged from the mudroom the night before during my snack run, but my sweatshirt was still missing in action. I snuck to the dresser and found another tin full of dimes on top.
This guy was really into his change.
I silently opened a drawer at random and snatched Gage’s Ultimate Bingo Champion hoodie.
It smelled like manly heaven. Since I was already going through the man’s drawers and I’d never claimed to be a good person, I quietly pawed through the next drawer until I found the shirt he’d lent me after my mud bath.
It was soft and didn’t have an itchy tag, and frankly I deserved a souvenir or two after my services last night.
I belly crawled into the bathroom and quietly shut the door behind me before getting to my feet.
Early morning light filtered through the blinds in here.
My reflection caught my eye, and I clapped a hand to my hair, which had exploded in all directions.
I was sure I had a hair tie somewhere around here, but I didn’t have time for a treasure hunt. Not when I had to get out of here.
My skills shone during sex. It was once we got out of bed that men had historically realized I was a lot of work. I’d been through enough heartbreak to know the key was to leave them orgasmically dazzled and wanting more.
Just thinking about being forced to participate in the awkward “so do you want some breakfast?” conversation with Gage made me want to hyperventilate.
We’d shared one wild night together, and that was enough. I’d scratched my itch. Taken the edge off. Unveiled the man parts behind the cardigan. And it had been great.
But all great things came to an end. Usually a messy, ugly one, and I wasn’t sticking around for that.
Besides, there was a teeny, tiny part of me that was “what’s that noise coming from the scary basement” terrified that all it would take was one sleepy-eyed smile from the man and I’d fall face-first back into bed with him.
God, I couldn’t believe I’d been so suckered in by the whole nice guy facade. Gage Bishop might present as a “good guy with a heart of gold,” but the man fucked like a villain.
My lady parts gave the genitalia equivalent of a standing ovation and spontaneously clenched at the memory.
I needed to preserve my sanity, get a little physical distance, and spend the rest of the day replaying last night’s highlight reel from the safety of my own place.
Plan set, I yanked on my leggings, slid into the oversize shirt and hoodie, and tiptoed back into the bedroom.
I gave my personal orgasm donor one last admiring look before slipping out the door.
I didn’t dare draw a breath until I made it into the kitchen.
I paused long enough to steal a bottle of water from his fridge before tracking down my shoes and purse in the laundry room.
I winced when I dug out my phone and found it down to 5 percent battery life. Why didn’t I carry a battery backup or a charging cord with me like an actual adult? Oh right. That was probably ADHD. Huh.
Hopefully 5 percent was enough for a call to Hazel, because I sure as hell wasn’t hiking over farmland to ask Gage’s parents for a ride.
I let myself out the mudroom door onto the side porch and was just stuffing my feet into my shoes on the top step when I was startled into a near cardiac arrest by an earsplitting bray.
“Hee-haaaaaaw!”
The unexpected noise destroyed my tenuous relationship with gravity, and I tumbled down the three steps to the asphalt.
A fuzzy leg and weird-looking hoof entered my line of sight at about the same time as my brain became aware of an intense shock of pain in my right wrist. A donkey nose prodded me in the shoulder. “Hee-haw?”
“Damn it, Pepe!” I groaned at the miniature donkey while cradling my aching wrist to my chest.
Suddenly, donkey legs weren’t the only limbs in my vision. Fluffy reddish-blond ones appeared, and a split second later, my face was being lavished with dog kisses.
“Nana! Stop—” My protestations sputtered to a halt when the dog aggressively French-kissed me.
“Oh my.”
The exclamation didn’t come from me, the donkey, or the dog. Nope. It came from the mother of the man I’d spent most of the night boinking.
Pep Bishop peered down at me, the morning sunrise exploding behind her head. “What do we have here?”
“I was just…” Pain and embarrassment were scrambling my brain like eggs. “Not sneaking out of your son’s house after having sex?”
“Christ. What the hell, Zoey? Are you hurt?”
“Oh no.” I groaned and closed my eyes, trying to block out the image of Gage, dressed only in bright red boxer briefs, vaulting off the porch and landing next to me…and his mother.
“Can you move?” he asked, gently gripping my shoulders.
The donkey seemed to be concerned about that too and used his nose to prod me in the chest. Nana joined him and sniffed me frantically.
“I think she hurt her wrist,” Pep said, wrestling the donkey and dog back a few steps. “I was just dropping off Nana. Pepe got loose and followed us. He startled your…uh…guest.”
“Your mom knows we had sex,” I announced. “And my wrist feels like it’s on fire. That damn donkey scared the hell out of me when I was sneaking out.”
I was in a torrential amount of pain—which I understand is not an actual measurement, but I was feeling dramatic—but not enough to miss the slight hitch to Gage’s mouth.
“You wanna talk about why you were sneaking out?” he asked.
“Geez, Gage! Not in front of your m-o-m,” I hissed as he helped me into a sitting position.
“Sweetie, I can spell. Did you also hit your head?” Pep interjected.
“I don’t think so. But I need you to know it was just sex. I promise I’m not angling to become your next daughter-in-law.”
“Okay, dear,” Pep said, patting me on my good arm. “Gage, why don’t you go get some pants on so you can drive your sex partner over to Dr. Ace for an X-ray?”
“I don’t need an X-ray. I’m sure it’s just…temporarily stunned.” I tried to hold up my wrist to demonstrate its functionality and only succeeded in yelping as pain rocketed up my arm.
“You’re going to see Ace,” Gage insisted.
He picked me up and gingerly set me down on the bottom step.
He then proceeded to kneel in front of me and tie the shoelaces I’d been in too much of a hurry to bother with during my ill-fated escape.
“Don’t move,” he ordered before jogging up the steps behind me and into the house.
Pepe clip-clopped closer and nudged me again with his big nose.
“I think he likes you,” Gage’s mom said as she once again shooed the damn donkey away.
I shook my head. “It’s not like that. We were both just in a weird place last night and thought that getting naked would be fun.”