Page 92 of Cowboy Dragon's Rose

So much more than just pleasure.

It’s devotion.

It’s need.

It’s love.

My body arches, writhes, reaching for more even as I come apart in his hands, on his mouth, under the weight of his reverence.

My fingers knot in his damp hair, clinging like he’s the only thing tethering me to this plane—and maybe he is.

Because I can’t hold anything back.

Not my voice.

Not my heart.

Not even my soul.

Because they’re already his.

Everything I have, everything I am—it all belongs to him now. And I don’t want it back.

Zeke rises from beneath me with a look in his eyes that scorches me—raw, wild, and completely unguarded.

As if he’s seeing me, all of me, and choosing me again and again.

Then he flips us—fluid, effortless strength—and covers my body with his own.

The moment he presses inside me, slow and deep and infinitely right, my breath catches.

And then I hear it.

A voice, not Zeke’s exactly, but somehow still his.

Deeper. Older.

It vibrates in my bones, a rumble through my blood.

Es meus.

The words bloom like fire inside my skull.

You’re mine.

My whole body lights up with them, every nerve ending flaring like a meteor shower. It’s more than just sensation.

It’s claiming, branding, a binding of something soul-deep and eternal.

Zeke’s pace falters for a second, his eyes widening as he feels it, too.

The connection.

The magic.

The Dragon.

My hands cup his face, thumbs brushing his cheekbones as I whisper through a smile that feels far too big for my face, “You’re mine, too. All mine.”

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