Page 40 of Cowboy Dragon's Rose

And my Dragon roars.

Better than good, she is perfect. Made for me.

Her walls flutter around me, wet and welcoming, and I have to bite down on my own wrist to keep from saying the words my soul is already screaming.

Es meus. Mine. Mate.

Because I can’t. Not yet. Not until she knows.

I’m not in the right headspace for confessions. Instead, I move.

Long, slow strokes that make her whimper and writhe beneath me.

But this is so much more than sex.

Every thrust is a vow.

Every kiss is a brand.

I worship her with my body because it’s the only language I am capable of right now, and Casey, well, she answers with her own sweetness—her throaty cries, trembling thighs, and whispered yeses.

This woman is magic.

She must be.

She strips me bare without even trying.

And when she shatters again—wrapped around me, clutching me like I’m the only solid thing in her world—I follow her straight into oblivion.

Into the fire.

Into us.

By the time I can breathe again, I know one thing for sure. I didn’t have to bite her to claim her.

Casey is mine.

It’s just a matter of time before she understands it, too.

CHAPTER TWELVE-CASEY

Doing the walk of shame at the ass crack of dawn is never a good time.

But doing it across a ranch—with the distinct scent of sex, wood smoke, and six-foot-five inch cowboy still clinging to your skin—while birds chirp aggressively like they know?

That’s a whole new level of mortifying.

To make matters worse, I’m pretty sure a loose cow saw me tiptoeing out of Zeke’s cabin and just face-planted.

Like, stunned into bovine collapse.

Just keeled right over.

I blinked at it. It blinked at me.

Then it made a sad little moo and wandered off like it wanted no part in my bad decisions.

Or maybe it couldn’t wait to tell the other cows over in the dairy or something?

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