Page 48 of Rough Cowboy
I pick up my pace, and he thrusts into my fist, breathing ragged into his deep kisses.
He’s close, fast. I can tell. I always know with him. My hand speeds. My motions are vigorous. I swallow his grunting gasp as he comes apart in my hand, spilling between my fingers into the water. His open mouth presses against mine with jagged breaths. I stroke him, waiting for his tremors to subdue.
“I wanted to come inside you.”
“Then I guess I should’ve told you there are condoms in my nightstand.”
He pulls my hair, and my head snaps back. Rough—the way I like it.
“You have fucking condoms?”
“Condoms and a bed and watching you come has me wound tight all over again.”
“Fuck.” That single curse says everything.
He swoops me into his arms. One arm is under my legs, the other supporting my back. I cling around his neck, and a dusting of bubbles blanket my skin. He climbs out of the tub and steps onto the drenched floor.
“Damn it.”
I giggle. “Towels are over there.” I point to the skinny closet, and he stalks over.
He somewhat shakes out towel after towel and tosses them on the water accumulated on the tile around the tub.
“That looks good.” He shrugs the towel castles. “You know, your bathroom is nicer than mine.” He carries me into the bedroom.
“At least there isn’t a family of rodents living in yours now.” He’s warm and delicious, and his chuckle vibrates against my lips. I sprinkle kisses down the side of his throat.
“Normally, I’d throw you on this bed.”
“I know.” I bite down on his skin, and he hisses approval. “Normally, I’d want you to.”
He gently lays me on the bed. I didn’t expect this mindful side of him. I didn’t expect him to be so acutely aware of the baby I’m carrying—his baby.
The reminder scores guilt through me as I watch him strut across the room with his jeans hanging off his ass. He turns on the dim lamp on my nightstand and digs through the drawer for a condom. He flicks off the ceiling light and locks both bedroom doors.
He stops at the foot of the bed and stares at me.
A million questions run through my mind.
What are we doing?
Is this just sex?
Silver only has sex.
But why all his confessions? Why does he have this need to share so much with me? Is this more? Is he expecting more? And what exactly does more mean to him?
“You’re beautiful.”
My eyes skim my baby bump. “You’re good at charming a girl.” But when I meet his gaze, it’s hunger, craving, and desire.
“You’re beautiful, and I want to kiss every last inch of you.” He shoves his sopping pants down his legs and leaves them on the floor. He’s rock-hard again and making his way toward me.
Fear settles inside me. I fear I’ll get too emotionally attached if I let him sweet talk me and kiss every last inch like I’m the only woman he wants.
When he gets to the edge of the bed, I lift my foot and press it against his chest.
“I’m pregnant.”
