Page 64 of Claimed By the Cowboy
“Forever. Kids, grandkids, growing old together on this ranch.”
His palm strokes down to rest on my stomach, possessive and tender. “When we’re ready, I want those four kids you promised me.”
The image of tiny cowboys and cowgirls with Tom’s blue eyes makes my chest ache with longing. “I want that too.”
“In the meantime, we can perfect our technique,” he says with a wicked grin, already hardening against my thigh.
“Already feels pretty perfect to me.”
“Oh, there’s always room for improvement.” He rolls us over, caging me beneath his body.
“Mmm, I like the way you think, husband.”I smirk. “Besides, you’re ten short on those dozen orgasms you promised me.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Ten short, huh? Guess I’m slacking.”
“Terribly,” I tease, dragging my nails lightly down his back. “I might have to file a complaint.”
“Oh, I’ll handle complaints, Mrs. Sutton.” His voice drops to a growl that vibrates straight through me. “But fair warning, my solution may involve tying you up and making sure you can’t walk the next day.”
My breath catches, arousal sparking all over again. “Sounds like a thorough… resolution.”
“Thorough is my specialty.” His grin is wicked, but there’s tenderness in the way he brushes a strand of hair from my damp cheek. “And if it takes all night to get to twelve, then I’ll just have to sacrifice myself.”
I laugh breathlessly. “My poor, selfless husband.”
He presses a hot kiss to my throat, his voice rough against my skin. “Yours. Forever.”
Tom’s mouth and hands worship every inch of me until I'm begging for release, until I’m sobbing his name and clawing at his backas he takes me apart with a skill that speaks of complete knowledge of my body and absolute determination to drive me wild.
When he finally thrusts inside me again, it’s with a reverence that speaks of partnership, of building something together that will last a lifetime.
Let our enemies come. They’re about to learn exactly what happens when you threaten a Sutton.
And they’re not going to like the lesson.
Epilogue
Tom
Six months of marriage to Kitty, and I still wake up every morning wondering how I got so damn lucky.
I reach across cold sheets to where my wife should be, finding nothing but rumpled cotton and the lingering scent of her skin.
The bed is empty, which means she’s stolen another one of my shirts and is padding around our kitchen barefoot. The thought makes my cock twitch with interest.
Humming drifts from the kitchen, mixed with the smell of cinnamon and coffee and the faint crackle of logs in the woodstove. Snow dusts thewindowsill, turning the whole world white. I pull on yesterday’s jeans—no point in a shirt when I plan to get her out of mine—and follow the scent of cinnamon and woman.
Kitty stands at the stove wearing my blue flannel and nothing else. The shirt hits her mid-thigh, and when she stretches to reach something on the high shelf, I catch a glimpse of bare ass that makes my mouth water.
Her blonde hair tumbles loose down her back, and she’s swaying to music only she can hear while she ices freshly baked cinnamon rolls. Behind her, the little tree we cut from the pasture glows in the corner, covered in mismatched ornaments and too much tinsel. The cabin smells like cinnamon and pine and Kitty—sweet and perfect.
Mine. All fucking mine.
“Morning, darlin’.”
She glances over her shoulder, and the smile she gives me could power the whole state. “Morning, baby. Coffee’s?—”
I’m on her before she can finish, spinning her around and lifting her onto thecounter. Her legs wrap around my waist automatically, and the feel of her bare skin against my jeans makes us both groan.
