Page 33 of Branded By the Cowboy

And then I can’t stop.

I press her gently onto the bed. Her eyes find mine as I brace myself over her, her fingers already at the buttons of my shirt. She undresses me like she means it. Like she’s memorizing what’s hers now.

“You’re beautiful,” she whispers, fingertips brushing the puckered scar beneath my collarbone.

It guts me.

Not because of the words.

But because Ibelieveher.

And that’s dangerous.

She pauses there, fingers lingering over the old wound. I can see the question forming behind her eyes—how did you get this?How many more are there?Does it still hurt?

But she doesn’t ask. She lets her hand settle over it, gentle and deliberate, accepting every broken piece without needing the story behind it.

“Don’t say that unless you mean it.”

She cups my face, looking at me like I’m worth touching. “I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t.”

I kiss her again before I lose my damn mind. Then I slide my hands under her shirt and pull it off over her head—careful, but not slow. She’s too beautiful for slow.

Her breath hitches as I strip away the rest—her jeans, her panties, everything. Until she’s lying bare beneath me, flushed and trembling in the muted lamplight.

Andfuck, she’s perfect. Large breasts, soft stomach, wide hips, long legs. Neat blonde curls shielding her sex. A woman a man could lose himself in and never want to be found. A man like me.

But it’s not simply her body. It’s how she looks at me with those brown eyes, like she trusts me not to let her fall.

“I don’t know how to do this gently,” I murmur, kissing her collarbone, her throat, the swell of her breast.

“Then don’t.”

I lose my mind.

I worship my way down her body—reverent, hungry. My mouth claims her breasts, licking and sucking her nipples until her back arches and her hands twist in the sheets. When I slide my fingers between her thighs and find her already soaked, I groan like I’m the one unraveling.

Sliding lower, I settle between her thighs, hooking them over my shoulders. I press a kiss to her inner thigh, then another, closer to where she’s glistening for me.

“You’re already so wet for me,” I murmur, circling her clit with the pad of my thumb. “Let me take care of you, sweetheart.”

She gasps and rocks against my hand.

“Jesus, darlin’… you’re gonna ruin me.”

“Please, Angus…”

Thatplease? It finishes me.

And I dive in.

I lick a slow, deliberate stripe through her folds, and her hips buck off the bed. I groan into her, one arm looping under her thigh to hold her still while I keep going. I suck her clit into my mouth, gentle at first, then firmer, flicking it with my tongue until her moans become high and breathless.

She tastes like everything I’ve ever wanted but never thought I could have. Sweet, slick heat that coats my tongue and makes me feel like a man starved.

“Angus,” she gasps, one hand in my hair, the other gripping the sheets.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” I mutter between strokes, my voice a low growl against her skin. “Fall apart for me.”

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