Page 5 of Claiming Cowboy
“Say my name. Sing it. Scream it. Let the whole town know who you belong to,” he orders.
The second he thrusts into me and pleasure crackles and pops along my nerves, I wake up. Everything is hazy and I swear I still feel Ryder on me, can smell his unique scent, feel his calloused, sure hands coasting over my body like he was appraising me. I’m tangled up in sheets rather than Ryder and hate it.
“Stay right there,” I remember him saying.
My hand sinks between my legs and I realize exactly how wet my panties are. I push them to the side and slowly tease my clit with light touches. I think about his hips rolling, snapping, how he moved, his grunts, his huffs, the way his eyes studied me.
“Beautiful girl,” his voice echoes in my ear as I touch myself.
My lips part and my hips buck against my fingers until I can’t resist anymore. Not while imagining a man like him. So intense, so wild, so beyond control. I thrust my fingers inside myself and circle my clit with my thumb. With my eyes closed, it’s not my hand, not my touch. It’s Ryder’s. It’s his panting and grunts filling the room as he fucks me with his fingers, rolling his hipsagainst my thigh to show me exactly what I’m going to get once I cum all over his hand.
My orgasm barrels through me, making me gasp and whimper. I turn my head into the pillow as my back bows, offering my tits to his mouth and touch. My thick thighs clench around my hand and I sink back into bed, blinking fiercely.
Ryder’s imprinted on me and I don’t know if there’s any escape. Logic clearly can’t keep him out of my dreams and I don’t think it can save me from my racing heart and full body blush either. I’m snared.
Chapter 4 - Ryder
Paige disappeared before I even had the chance to really talk to her. One second she was there, lighting up the night like she owned it, and the next she was gone. By the time I spotted her friend, the seat beside her was already taken by some woman desperate to latch onto any rodeo man who’d look her way. I couldn’t tell you what she looked like. All I could see was Paige—those soft curves, that damn pretty face, the kind of beauty that sticks to you like honey.
Letting her slip away without trying to find her isn’t an option. Not that I have a clue where to start. But I know Maya. We grew up in the same circles thanks to Oliver—my best friend back when we were just a couple of kids running wild. She runs a bakery in town now, and it seems like my best shot. Coffee and sugar can’t be a bad way to start the morning after a win.
A win that might be one of my last, if I’m being honest. The endless travel, the hotel rooms, the life packed into bags—it’s wearing thin.
The need to tell someone that echoes in my body, just under The bell over the door jingles as I step inside, and my pulse picks up like it’s got a mind of its own. The place smells like warm bread and sugar, the soft music floating through the air doinglittle to steady me. My boots feel too heavy against the polished floor, jeans dusty from the morning ride, shirt snug and a little damp with sweat. I don’t exactly fit in here—but the second my eyes land on her, it doesn’t matter.
Paige.
She’s behind the counter, talking softly to herself as she tries to arrange a tray of cookies. She moves with a mix of focus and awkward grace—like she’s trying not to trip over her own thoughts. I lean my forearm on the counter, watching the way her jeans fit and the way her apron pulls tight at her waist. A grin tugs at the corner of my mouth before I can stop it.
Maya says something I can’t hear, touching Paige’s elbow, and she jumps like she wasn’t expecting it. A cookie slips from her fingers and clatters back onto the tray. She spins toward me, a little too fast, and nearly bumps into the register. When her gaze finally finds mine, her breath catches.
I tip my hat at her, and she freezes.
“Mornin’, Paige. A slice of apple pie would be perfect,” I say, letting the drawl settle low and easy, like I’ve got all the time in the world.
She blinks, cheeks flushing as she fumbles for a plate. “Y-yeah. Pie. Um—right. One sec.” A fork slips from her grasp and lands with a sharp clink on the counter.
I don’t look away. I want her to see exactly where my attention is—on her. I like the way she gets flustered, the way her hands shake just a little when I don’t pretend to be subtle. She’s clumsy, soft around the edges, everything this place smells like. And me? I’m not about to apologize for looking. Or wanting.
“Sharing it with you would be better,” I hint when she starts plating it. “If you’re able to take a break, of course.”
“I—um, I can’t. It’s too early for that,” she stammers, glancing around like the walls might rescue her, shoulders curling in on themselves. Her pupils are blown wide, and she’s biting her bottom lip, but even with all that heat in her eyes, she’s pulling back.
“I’ll just have to try again tomorrow then,” I say easily, letting a slow grin curve my mouth. My gaze drifts over her again—unhurried, deliberate—lingering on the soft curves, the flush creeping up her neck, the way her fingers inch nervously across the counter. “The best view in all of Aspenbrook’s right here, and I don’t plan on missing out.”
She chews the inside of her cheek and swallows hard. “Um… y-you can… take a seat,” she manages, voice a little shaky. “Did you—uh—want something to drink too?”
“Coffee would be perfect,” I say, still watching her like I’ve got nowhere else to be.
She nods a little too quickly, fumbling for a notepad she doesn’t really need. “Right. Coffee. I’ll—uh—bring it over.” Her fingers brush the edge of the counter, and she tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear before turning away, shoulders stiff like she’s trying to collect herself.
I’d take any excuse to pull her closer, to keep her within reach for just a minute longer, but the place is busy. So I settle at a corner table with my pie, deliberately taking my time. I watch her as she moves through the shop, balancing trays, laughing softly at something Maya says. She’s different with her—easier. Her smile softens around her friend, lighting her hazel eyes from behind like someone flipped a switch.
People come up to me, trying to talk—asking about the ride, about the next stop, about the wild life they’ve built up in their heads. I give them short answers. I know what they expect: thereckless cowboy who lives for the rush. And maybe that’s true, but I don’t wantthatversion of me to be the only one Paige sees.
The women who approach are bolder—touching my arm, leaning in, laughing too loud. They’re used to chasing me. But I’m not looking at them. I’m looking at Paige.
When her eyes flick up and meet mine across the room, she tucks a piece of light brown hair behind her ear again, shy and sweet, and something in my chest tightens. That little move will be my job soon enough. I’ll be the one to touch her, to take care of her, to give her everything she doesn’t even realize she deserves. If she needs time, I’ll wait.
