Page 56 of Dirty Cowboy

But I can’t have her.

Not the way I want.

Unfortunately, her brothers in New York and her life there, along with the secrets I can’t let slip, stand between us.

"I won’t lie," I say, voice dropping. "Your offer is tempting.Fucking my best friend’s little sisterdefinitely has its ring, but youaremy best friend’s little sister. We can’t get involved.”

She smirks. "But weareinvolved, my cowboy. We’re engaged."

She lifts her hand, wiggling my grandmother’s ring.

"And if you feel like I’m not fulfilling my duties as your fiancée," she whispers, stepping closer, her breath ghosting over my skin, "then take what you need."

Jesus Christ.

I grab her hand, bringing it to my lips. She tilts her head, watching me, her pulse beating wildly against my fingertips.

"Be careful what you ask for, Emma," I murmur against her knuckles. "You’ve hadtwofree shows. The next viewing?That’ll be a private performance."

Her fingers skim my thigh as she pulls away, her touch setting me on fire.

"Promises, promises," she teases.

I grip her hips, pulling her flush against me. She’s soft, warm, and her body molds into mine like God created her just for me.

Shadow lets out an impatient neigh.

We ignore her.

Until she stomps her hooves, snapping us out of the daze. I exhale, close the stall, and take Emma’s hand.

"Come."

I lead her down the corridor to the supply room where a ladder is propped against the back wall, leading up to the hayloft.

"The second floor is sturdy," I tell her, gripping the rung. "Go on."

Emma climbs first, and I follow, watching her round ass sway with every step.

The loft stretches before us, golden light filtering through the gaps in the rafters. A makeshift bed of hay sits in the corner, covered with a blanket.

She steps to the railing, looking down at the horses below.

"It’s beautiful," she whispers.

I step up behind her. "The real magic’s over here."

I nod toward the blanket and she smirks, lying down. "Is this where you bring all your women? It’s romantic."

I chuckle, taking a spot beside her. "You think stinky horse stables areromantic?"

"It's not smelly."

"Just wait until after feeding time. The aromatics are... something else."

She laughs, looking up into the skylight above.

"This is a world away from my New York life. Swaying wheat fields, whispering streams, quaint cottages, and these almost magical stables... It's like stepping into a storybook. So yes, this is romantic. It’s very romantic. Grandpa would approve."

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