Page 8 of Claiming Cowboy
He takes off his shirt and guides my hands to his chest. “Touch me. Enjoy me. Show what you can’t say, Paige.”
I don’t have to ask if he really wants me; he’s proving it. He’s eyeing my dress like it’s an insult compared to what he could be looking at. He tugs me tighter against him while I trace the contours of muscle he’s built from dedication and time. He’s magic. Touching him is better than touching myself thinking about him. He groans and kisses along my collarbone, his fingers tracing the sides of my breasts.
I can’t take it anymore. Not with every slow, deliberate touch that feels like he’s burning me alive. Not with the way his restraint hums under his skin, coiled tight as he waits for me to give him more.
“You have no idea how much I want you,” he rasps, his breath hot against my mouth. “How many nights I’ve thought about you. Fantasized about you. I called you mine—and I meant it.”
The words knock the air right out of me. When I look at him, he catches my bottom lip between his teeth, biting down hard enough to make me gasp before soothing the sting with his tongue. It fries my brain, sends sparks racing across my skin until I hate the fabric of my dress almost as much as he does.
He groans low in his throat when I shift beneath him, then tugs at my dress like it’s the only thing standing in his way. It pools around my waist, then hits the floor, followed by my bra. He cups my breasts like he’s starved for the feel of them, burying his face between them with a growl that vibrates through my chest. His tongue flicks against my skin, hot and wet, trailing kisses that feel like they could set me on fire.
“I’ll show you every single thought I’ve ever had about you,” he murmurs against my skin, voice dark and hungry. “Everyfantasy. Every reason you should stay right here and let me make you mine.”
“St-stop holding back,” I whimper, watching the tension ripple through him as he wars with himself.
His chuckle is low and dangerous, sending a shiver through me. He drags his tongue slowly up my throat, making me arch into him. “This is more than an eight-second ride, Paige,” he growls against my ear. “I’m going to make every second feel like forever.”
“I know,” I whisper, breath shaky as I hook my thumbs into my underwear and start pushing them down.
His gaze drops like a predator’s, dark and burning, and whatever thread of restraint he had left snaps. A low, rough sound slips from his chest as he steps in close, crowding the space between my knees. His hands replace mine, dragging the fabric the rest of the way down, slow and deliberate, fingers brushing the inside of my thighs until the underwear slips off completely. The sound he makes when he looks at me—half groan, half growl—sends heat straight to my core.
He doesn’t bother with words. His hands grip my hips and heyanksme to the edge of the counter, making me gasp. My legs fall open around him, and he leans over me, mouth finding my skin like it’s something he’s been starved for.
His lips drag up my stomach, over my ribs, until his mouth closes around my nipple. The first hot flick of his tongue knocks the air out of me. He sucks, slow and deliberate, his stubble scraping just enough to make me shiver. When he groans against me, it vibrates through my chest and down between my legs.
“Ryder,” I whimper, the sound cracking.
He trails kisses downward again, slower this time, like he’s tasting every inch of me and refusing to rush. His breath fans over my belly, making me tremble. “Nothing in this shop, in this town, in thisfucking worldis better than you, Paige,” he growls, his voice rough against my skin. “I’ve dreamed about this. But dreams don’t come close.”
“I…” The words won’t form. There’s no room for insecurity when he’s touching me like this—like he’s worshipping and claiming at the same time.
He drops lower, his mouth finding the inside of my thigh, kissing, biting, sucking until heat blooms where his mouth has been. “So fucking sexy,” he mutters, voice thick with hunger. “I want your legs around my head. I want to taste you. I want the whole damn town to hear you scream my name.”
My eyes roll back the second his tongue glides over my slit, slow and devastating. A gasp rips out of me before I can stop it. My fingers dive into his hair, gripping tight as my other hand braces against the counter to keep me from floating away.
He growls—a deep, wrecked sound that vibrates against me—before burying his face between my legs like he’s never going to come up for air. His hands slide under my thighs, pulling my knees over his shoulders, palming and squeezing my ass as he feasts on me.
And Ryderfeasts. There’s no other word for it. He eats me like he’s starving, tongue moving in slow, deliberate strokes that make every nerve light up. The long, indulgent passes over my clit melt into rough, hungry flicks, a rhythm that builds and breaks me at once. He drinks in every moan, every twitch, following the shape of my pleasure like it belongs to him.
“Louder,” he murmurs against me, the word a command wrapped in velvet. Then, rougher, “More.” His tongue circlesmy clit again, and when I moan, he hums against me like he’s savoring it. “Give me everything, Paige. I want you in every way.”
The way he says my name unravels something deep inside me. My hips move on their own, rolling against his face, chasing every stroke of his tongue, every groan he lets out like it’s meant just for me. His fingers dig into my thighs and ass, holding me open, keeping me right where he wants me.
Nothing feels like enough. Every lick, every flick, every rough sound that escapes his throat only sharpens the ache between us. It’s more intense than I ever imagined—all the simmering glances, the stolen touches, the nights I’ve replayed him in my mind, all boiling over at once.
This isn’t just lust. It’s a tidal wave—explosive, raw, and greedy—wrapping more than just my body around this wild, wonderful, debauched man.
“Ryder!”
He swats my ass. “Say it,” he orders.
“I .. I’m yours. I’m yours!”Happily, incandescently, hopelessly.
I chant it as he slows his intense and fervent lapping to something that curls my tongue and threatens to ruin every bit of restraint I’ve ever known. He licks into my entrance before following a path that makes my back arch until I lose my grip on the counter and fall back.
Ryder spreads my thighs, holding me down so I’m entirely spread to him. He groans. “Nothing’s prettier than this. You, pleased, spread open for me, all mine to enjoy.”
“Please,” I whisper.
