Page 66 of Cowboy Dragon's Rose

And I’m about to let him.

CHAPTER NINETEEN-ZEKE

I’ve heard stories my whole life about what it feels like when a Dragon meets his mate.

The fire.

The ache.

The sheer need to be with her, skin to skin, soul to soul.

But nothing—absolutely nothing—prepared me for her.

For Casey.

She’s not just beautiful.

She’s mine.

And now that I’ve had a taste of her kiss, now that she’s looked up at me with those golden-brown eyes full of invitation and heat, I can’t hold back.

I won’t.

When she tells me she wants to spend time alone with me, the words hit harder than they should.

Because it’s not just about sex.

Not just about sating a physical need.

It’s about being chosen.

And the woman I’ve waited a hundred years for just looked at me like I’m the one she can’t resist.

Yeah. That’s fuel on a fire that was already burning out of control.

We make it through the trees with sunlight glinting off the ranch in warm gold. I want to savor this—her hand in mine, her soft giggle when I tug her closer—but the beast inside me is pushing at the edges.

And when we reach the porch of my cabin, I can’t resist anymore.

I spin, caging her between me and the door. Her back hits the wood with a soft thud, and I brace my arms on either side of her head.

“One last chance to change your mind,” I rasp, my voice already thick with everything I want to do to her.

Casey looks up at me, eyes bright and brave. “Not a chance.”

That’s all it takes.

I crush my mouth to hers, kissing her like I’ve been starved for centuries—and in a way, I have.

She melts into me, fingers digging into my shoulders as I lift her up. Her legs wrap around my waist on instinct, and I carry her inside without ever breaking the kiss.

We stumble through the door, laughter and gasps between kisses, my hands roaming every soft, tempting curve.

I need to feel her beneath me. I need to hear my name fall from her lips again and again.

I carry her to my bedroom, lay her down on my bed like she’s the most precious thing I’ve ever held—because she is.

“Oh God, Zeke,” she whispers, breathless, as I slide my hands under her shirt, peeling it away inch by inch. “You make me feel?—”

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