Page 25 of Branded By the Cowboy

“Yeah.”

Luna gives me a look—half teasing, half scandalized. “Okay, so, not to ruin the moment, but did you seriously just say your future wife reminds you of your mother? Because I feel like there’s a rule about that in at least three romance novels.”

I huff a laugh. “It’s the biggest compliment I could give.”

She softens, her eyes going all warm and shiny in the firelight. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. She was the strongest woman I knew.” I glance at her. “Until you.”

Her breath catches, and for a second, the only sound is the mare snuffling softly behind us, the tiny wet-nosed foal curled at her side.

“Mom used to say this place wasn’t just about the land. It was about the people it could hold. The lives it could nurture. She believed in second chances more than she believed in comfort. Or convenience.” I laugh under my breath. “She once let a stranger camp in the hayloft for three weeks because he said his dog liked the way the barn smelled.”

“What happened to the stranger?” Luna asks, drawing her knees up to her chest.

“He got a job offer two states away, but the house he rented didn't allow pets.” I poke at the fire with a stick, sending sparks dancing into the night. “Mom couldn't bear the thought of them being separated, but she also worried about the dog being alone all day while he worked.”

“So your mom took the dog?” Luna's voice is soft as if she already knows the answer.

“In a heartbeat. She named him Toast—a golden retriever with fur the color of perfectly browned bread.” I smile at the memory. “That dog went from sleeping in a barn to claiming the prime spot in Mom and Dad's bed. Dad grumbled about it, but I’d catch him sneaking Toast bacon when Mom wasn't looking.”

Luna laughs, the same bright and unguarded laugh she gave Shay yesterday. And damn, if it doesn’t set me on fire.

I cup her face and lean in until my mouth hovers above hers, giving her time to move away.

She doesn’t.

So I kiss her like we’re picking up where we left off in the stables the other day. As if we never stopped.

She opens to me like she’s been waiting, lips soft and warm and eager. Her fingers curl into my flannel, hanging on for dear life, and I feel it—that same ache, that same pull from the barn days ago. Only this time, I don’t back away.

I deepen the kiss, slow and sure, my hands sliding to her hips. She lets out a soft sound in the back of her throat, and it shoots straight to my cock. I’m already hard. Already strung tight. But this isn’t just about need.

This is about her.

I lift her gently—God, she’s light but not fragile—and carry her a few feet away, far enough so the mare and foal can rest in peace, settling us into a patch of clean hay beside the warmth of the stove. She looks up at me like she’s scared I might vanish if she blinks, and something in my chest twists.

I kneel beside her, one hand stroking the side of her face. “Tell me to stop,” I murmur, even though my voice is already rough with wanting. “If you want me to, just say it.”

She catches my hand, pressing it closer against her cheek. “I want you,” she breathes, her eyes never leaving mine. “I have since the moment I saw you.”

That’s all I need.

My hands find the hem of her shirt, and I strip it off when she lifts her arms. Her bra follows, leaving her bare to the waist, skin glowing in the low light. Her breasts are full and heavy, tipped with pinky-brown nipples that pucker under my gaze. Beautiful. So fucking beautiful I have to close my eyes for a second to breathe.

“You okay?” I ask, even though her nod is already yes.

“Yeah,” she breathes. “Just… no one’s ever looked at me like you do.”

My hands still for a second. She doesn’t know what she’s worth. But I do.

Crawling over her, I plant my hands on either side of her waist, and she gasps when I lower my head. I press my lips to her soft stomach, dragging my mouth upward. She trembles beneath me, all tension and anticipation. I take my time, mapping her skin with my mouth, learning the places that make her gasp, the spots that make her shudder.

Goosebumps break out over her flesh, and she shivers violently as I trail kisses up her abdomen before moving to her breasts. A ragged cry bursts from her lips as my hot mouth finds her nipple, sucking and rolling it with my tongue.

“God, you taste amazing,” I mumble, moving to the other nipple. “But I want to taste something else right now.”

I flick open the button of her jeans, sliding them down her thighs with her panties. When I settle between her thighs, she goes still.

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