Page 16 of Claiming Cowboy
He cuts in gently, his voice steady but low. “You don’t know what you do to me. You don’t see how impatient I get during the day because I want to see you. You don’t notice how people look at you, how they lean in when you talk. You’re magnetic, Paige. Bright. People want to be near you—not because you’re new, but because you’reyou.”
His eyes find mine, and this time there’s no teasing in them. Just heat. Steady and real. “I want you, Paige. Not just to touch you. Not just to look at you. I wantyou.”
My breath catches. “So you… you want me for more than just… sex?”
“Yes,” he says without hesitation, a hint of a grin playing at his lips. “Well, for sexandmore. I want all of it. You. Us. Whatever we can build.”
I fidget with my hands. “What if we fail?”
He tilts his head slightly. “What if we don’t? I’m a focused man, sunshine. I don’t back off easily. When I want something, I figure out how to make it work.”
I swallow, my voice softer now. “Can we work?”
“I’m staying,” he says, his smirk softening into something earnest. “And I’d really like to find out.”
He’s waiting for me to meet him half way. He’s sliced through every worry, proved himself in silence, with action, and now words. He hasn’t worn me down with pleading and puppy dog eyes, he’s proven what some part of me knew every morning – that he’s stable, he’s in this. Because somehow, we make sense in a way that defies logic. Maybe it won’t always feel this fragile. Maybe it will make sense someday if I just let it.
I slide my hand into his and move closer. “Start wrong and finish right?”
He chuckles. “Nothing we do together is wrong.”
He kisses me slowly, pulling me onto his lap and nearly sighing when I rub his chest and kiss him back. I love that he takes what he wants, that he can finesse as well as he can manhandle a situation. I’m still shaking from the raw intensity of our conversation, feel vulnerable and seen in a way that makes every touch and tender kiss feel deeper and more meaningful.
I fall into Ryder. His growing hunger, the traces of tenderness that become worship as he slowly unzips the back of my dress just to spread his hands over my shoulder blades and tug me closer. He licks deeper into my mouth, leaving me trembling and tugging at his shirt, wanting more.
“You can say no, sunshine. Tell me if I’m rushing, tell me if I’m too wild,” he says.
I shake my head.
“Then own what you want. Let me hear it while I worship every curve of your body,” he says, his voice rough, strained.
I run my fingers through his hair as he gently tugs my dress from under me and bundles it around my hips, his fingers spreading over my thighs with obvious reverence. The sound that leaves his chest is dark and low.
“Undress me,” I say, hoping my voice sounds steadier than I feel. “Remind me what I do to you.”
His eyes search mine, then he kisses me hungrily, his hands slide further over me, squeezing my love handles and hauling me closer to him to prove they deserve the name, to prove exactly how much he likes them. His low groans, the satisfied sounds that leave his lips as he drags my dress higher and higher, appreciating every inch of my body just like he promised drives me insane.
I roll my hips on his, feeling the bulge in his jeans and wanting to feel more of it, more of him. “Ryder.”
“Yes, sunshine,” he says as I tighten my grip in his hair a moment while he nuzzles my cleavage, licking and teasing my breasts with the promise of more.
I lift my arms to let him pry my dress off me, then he nibbles the strap of my bra, dragging it down my shoulder while palming my breasts, circling my nipples with his thumbs through the gauzy fabric until I arch and let my hands slide down his chest. I tug at his shirt, prying it over his head and bringing him right back to my mouth.
We’ll have everything tonight. No room for restraint, questions, or doubts. I want him. He wants me. He’s willing to stay, I’m willing to dive in. I don’t want anything between us, including clothes.
I trace the contours of his muscles as he explores every inch of me, his hands hungry but reverent. He fumbles with my bra because he keeps getting distracted—kissing my neck, murmuring against my skin, purring praise that vibrates through me.
“You’re perfect,” he breathes against my ear. “Every fucking curve. So soft. So damn beautiful.”
My fingers find the trail of hair leading down his stomach, and I can feel the way his breath catches. “How are you real?” I whisper, because it’s the only thing that comes close to what’s racing through me.
He tilts his head back slightly, a small smile ghosting over his lips before he leans in again. “I’m very real, Paige. Even if I’m half convincedyou’rea goddess. So decadent. So wonderful. Perfect for me. Fucking flawless.”
Every word is punctuated by kisses that burn across my skin, leaving me flushed and shaking with want.
“Please,” I whimper, my voice barely more than a tremor.
His mouth finds mine, hot and sure, before trailing back to my jaw. “I like how you didn’t even notice anyone else at the bakery,” he murmurs, voice low and rough. “You only looked at me. Because you know you’re mine. And you want to be mine.”
