Page 57 of Ride Me Cowboy

Her smile is teasing. “More than okay.”

“Good.” Better than good. I move my hand to her cheek, then cup the side of her face, holding her steady as I kiss her, my mouth devouring her like I’ve wanted to since I walked in this room, pushing her back onto the bed she just crawled out of, my body on top of hers, my hands back on those breasts I love so much, feeling them through a tee I’m rapidly losing patiencewith. I push it up her body, over her head, so I can stare at her naked for a good while, drinking in the sight of her like this.

“Next time you get on your knees for me, I want you naked,” I mutter.

“Is that a complaint, Cowboy?”

My response is gruff. “Ain’t nothing like it.” I drop my head and take one of her perfect breasts into my mouth, my teeth pressing down on her nipple, then rolling it with my tongue, until she’s a whimpering mess, writhing beneath me, crying out my name so I have to press a hand to her mouth to stop her from being so loud. Keeping this quiet was her idea, not mine, but I’m here to help her remember that.

She nips my fingers though, cheeky little thing. I grin up at her, before moving to the other breast—don’t want anyone feeling left out—and pushing my hand lower, between her legs. She’s wearing a pair of lightweight shorts, easy enough to shove down so I can feel her nakedness. I push my fingers inside her, like I did last night, my mouth teasing and tasting her breasts, first one, then the other, while I enjoy the sensation of sinking my fingers into her over and over, before I let my mouth roam lower, over her flat stomach, to the side of her hip, tracing a line over a scar there. I don’t let myself think about how she got it. I can’t. I don’t want that asshole clouding this moment.

I bury my head between her thighs, letting my mouth take over from my fingers, my tongue caressing her until her voice is rising up. I pull away. “You want the whole house to know what we’re up to in here?”

She shakes her head and laughs, biting down on her lower lip in that mind-achingly distracting way she has. I get back to it, myfingers digging into her thighs, her hands ripping through my hair as she moans—softly though—into the room, whispering my name, interspersed with pleas and cries, and then, she’s bucking like a bronco, right against my mouth, her hips lifting off the bed as she rides that wave, lets it consume her. I hold her still, watching her, committing the sight of her, like this, so perfect, to my memory.

“Well, fuck me, if this isn’t a nice way to start the day,” I murmur, pulling myself up her body, so my face is level with hers.

“Mmm,” she murmurs languidly, eyes drifting shut as she lets out a sigh. “Is that your way of saying we should do it again tomorrow?”

“Honey, that’s my way of saying we should do this again later today,” I say, leaning down and kissing her hard. Her naked body is beneath me, and as I kiss her, she wraps her legs around my waist, holding me tight, so I’m growing hard again, needing her like I haven’t just had one of the best orgasms of my damn life.

“Or we could do something else,” she says, grinning against my mouth, as her hand creeps down to my boxers and wraps around me.

The thought of burying myself in her is like a whip crashing to my spine. I want that so bad. Right now. I want to just drive into her and make her see every star in the sky. I want to tell her it doesn’t matter who knows about us, to let her voice rip through the whole house. I want to feel those muscles squeeze me. I want to ride her, all day. I want…way more than I should.

Way more than I want to want anyone.

The visage of wanting, needing, losing, hurting is right in front of me, like it always is, any time I meet someone I think I halfway like. Not that it’s ever been like this. I generally date a woman for a few weeks before I let it get to the bedroom. This thing with Beth, it’s all kind of just exploded of its own accord, and I’m not complaining.

But putting the brakes on is no bad thing—for both our sakes. Keep it light. Casual. Easy. Because one thing’s for sure: Beth’s leaving the ranch when Reagan comes back, which means neither of us can get too attached. I’m pretty sure I can manage that, but what about Beth?

I have to keep this low risk for her. I want to be some guy who helps her get over what her husband did, who helps her move on and feel better, not someone or something else she has to move on from.

“Later,” I say, pulling up from her, breaking the grip she has on me easily. She’s tiny compared to me, which is another thing I don’t want to think about. If Christopher was anything like my build, the physical advantage he had on her is just the worst. Beth frowns, though, as I do up my jeans and stuff my shirt into them. Her eyes land on my zipper—sticking out at an odd angle, courtesy of how rock hard I am.

“You sure about that?”

I laugh, then. “I can’t believe I ever thought of you as shy.”

Her eyes widen and I could kick myself for saying it. For reminding her of how she used to be with me—and why. Because there it is—that haunted look I hate so much. It crosses her features and dulls her eyes, and probably without even realizing it, she’s reaching for her shirt and pulling it over her head.

Covering herself up, hiding away from me.

“Beth—,” I move back to the bed and crouch beside her. But what can I say? She was shy and all kinds of timid when she first arrived. She still is, around the others. But with me…

“I know,” she says, eyes sweeping my face. “You don’t want to upset me.” Her smile is weak. “You didn’t. It’s him—always him. You’re the only person I’ve met who’s capable of making me forget, even if just for a while.”

“Well, then, think of it as my mission for the next couple of months to make you forget him: a lot.”

She nods slowly, lips quirking into the hint of a frown, before she leans forward and kisses me again. “Y’all come back now, ya hear?” she says, in a terrible imitation of a cowboy drawl.

I stand up, moving toward the glass doors that lead straight out onto the courtyard. “It’s a promise.”

Chapter Seventeen

Beth

IT’S A PROMISE I FULLY intend to hold him to, next time I see him. The day drags, but every minute I expect Cole to come swaggering up to the house, into the office, to drag me into his arms and kiss me until he—and the way we spark off each other—is all I can think about.

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