Page 70 of Knotting the Cowboys

Mavi leans against the wall not three feet away, looking like he's been there for hours. Like he's part of the architecture, some guardian gargoyle in worn jeans and a black henley that does criminal things to his shoulders.

"Jesus," I gasp, heart hammering against my ribs. "Do you practice that? The whole appearing-from-nowhere thing?"

His lips quirk in what might generously be called a smile but looks more like a predator deciding if you're worth the energy to chase.

"Practice makes perfect. Want to see the morning security drills?"

The question seems innocent enough, but there's something in his green eyes that makes my stomach flip.

A knowing glint that sets off every alarm bell in my body. He looks like a man with a secret, and I have the sinking feeling that secret involves what I was doing ten minutes ago with my hand between my legs.

"Security drills?" I repeat, buying time while my brain cycles through possibilities.

How long has he been up here?

The house is old—floors creak, walls aren't exactly soundproof.

Oh God, what if he heard?—

"Every morning," he confirms, pushing off the wall with liquid grace. "Check the perimeters, test the alarm systems, make sure nothing's out of place. Thought you might want to learn, being the boss and all."

That knowing look intensifies, and heat floods my face so fast I'm surprised my hair doesn't catch fire. He knows.He has to know.There's no other explanation for the way he's watching me, like a cat who's found a particularly interesting mouse to toy with.

"How long—" I start, then stop, then force myself to continue because not knowing is worse than knowing. "How long have you been up here?"

His smirk becomes a full grin, sharp and devastating.

"Long enough."

Two words that confirm every mortifying suspicion.

Long enough to hear me gasping into a pillow.

Long enough to hear me moaning four names like a prayer.

Long enough to know exactly what the Ranch Boss was doing instead of learning about fence posts and cattle management.

Oh. My. Fucking. God…

I close my eyes, willing the floor to open up and swallow me whole. Of all the men to catch me in a moment of self-pleasure, it had to be Mavi—the one who sees everything, who probably has the entire house wired for sound, who's now looking at me like I'm the most interesting thing to happen to his morning routine in years.

"I was just—" I begin, then realize there's no good way to finish that sentence.

Just what? Getting myself off to fantasies about you and your pack brothers?

Taking care of needs I've denied for two years?

Discovering that my body still works despite Blake's best efforts to break it?

"Follow the leader," he says, cutting off my stammering with a wink that should be illegal in at least three states. He turns and starts down the hallway, hands sliding into his pockets with casual arrogance. "Security drills wait for no one, not even bosses who sleep in."

Sleep in. Right. That's what we're calling it.

Not "bosses who spend their mornings fingering themselves to thoughts of their ranch hands." Just sleeping in.

I groan, the sound escaping before I can stop it, and his shoulders shake with what might be laughter.

"This is going to be a long, embarrassing day," I mutter, but my feet are already moving, following him despite every instinct screaming at me to lock myself back in my room and never emerge.

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