Page 17 of Dirty Cowboy

Abruptly standing, he mutters, “I’ll be right back.” And just like that, he disappears downstairs.

Leaving me alone, heart hammering, and very,veryaware of what almost just happened.

His absence feels like an eternity as I hear him fumbling around downstairs. When he finally returns, he carries an ice pack, pressing it gently against the burning skin. His touch is firm but careful, steadying the cold against me while sitting on the edge of the bed. My cheeks heat—not from irritation this time, but from the sheer embarrassment of the situation. When he looks up, I yank the duvet over my chest, shielding the ridiculous horse-shaped pasties still clinging to my nipples.

His mouth quirks into a smirk. "Horse pasties?"

I shrug. "It was country theme night."

"Feels like the night was made just for me, even though I don’t like country."

"But you’re from the country," I say, gripping the duvet tighter.

He stretches his arms back, sighing. "Sometimes too much of something makes you hate it."

"So you hate the ranch?"

His expression softens. "Didn’t say that. I love the ranch. That’s why I need your brothers’ help."

"And possibly mine?" My voice is quieter than I intend, but the weight of the moment hangs between us.

His gaze flickers over my face, reading something deeper. "And possibly yours." He side-eyes me, and I sink further into the sheets. The ice pack soothes the sting, but it does nothing to calm the tension crackling in the air.

"I never want to see you at a fucking strip club again, Ems. You hear me?"

His low, gravelly voice rumbles through me, making my stomach flip. "And if I don’t listen?" I test, tilting my chin.

He leans in, his lips hovering just above my ear. "My punishments are painful."

A wave of goosebumps rolls over my body.

"What do you mean, painful?" My voice is a whisper.

"Test me again and you’ll find out," he warns, his voice like liquid sin. "Shadow learned the hard way."

Wait. Is he comparing me to a horse?

"You tamed Shadow?" I ask, hoping to steer the conversation back to safer ground.

"No. You ruined that horse for me the moment you rode her. She nearly broke my best friend’s neck."

He leans back against the bed, making himself entirely too comfortable.

"I’m sorry."

"You were just a kid, but something must’ve spooked her. Shadow’s only comfortable for a wash or a brush—when I strap her down."

"And if you don’t?"

"She’ll kick me. When she’s bound, she listens. Like a good girl."

A shiver rolls down my spine at the way he says it as his words play on repeat in my head.

Like a good girl.

His fingers graze my stomach, slow and deliberate. "Confinement," he murmurs, tracing an invisible pattern over my skin, "forces stillness. It’s the rush of the unknown that heightens your senses."

His voice is intoxicating, slipping under my skin and sinking deep. My entire body trembles, suddenly desperate to be hisgood girl. Does he know the effect he has on me? Of course, he does. He’s forty-one. He’s experienced. Meanwhile, I have zero experience and three worn-out vibrators to my name.

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