Page 23 of Owned By The Cowboy
“Hi,” he rumbles.
“Hi. Come in.”
He steps inside, and suddenly our living room feels smaller. I’m hyperaware of every inch between us.
“Blayne!” Annalise bounces over to us. “Did you bring your suit?”
“I did,” he replies, holding up the garment bag. “Your mama’s gonna make sure it fits right.”
“Can I watch?”
“Annalise,” I say quickly, “remember what we talked about. Say hi, then let us work.”
She deflates a little but nods. “Hi, Blayne. Bye, Blayne.”
“Bye, sweetheart,” he answers with a chuckle.
“This way, please,” I tell him, leading him toward the back of the house to my sewing room.
As we walk down the hallway, I’m very aware of him behind me. When we reach the doorway to my studio, he stops.
“You made changes. Looks even better,” he compliments me, looking around.
“Thanks. It’s coming together.” I gesture toward the garment bag. “Want to show me what we’re working with?”
He unzips the bag and pulls out a charcoal gray suit that looks expensive and perfectly classic.
“Wow,” I breathe out, running my fingers over the fabric. “This is beautiful material.”
“The guy at the store said it was classic.”
“He’s right. It will look great on you.”
The words slip out before I can stop them, and I feel my cheeks warm. But when I look up, Blayne’s watching me with an expression that’s just as heated as what I’m feeling.
“Should I…?” He gestures toward the suit jacket.
“Yes, let’s see how it fits first.”
And that’s when I realize I’m about to see Blayne Madison shirtless in my sewing room, and my carefully constructed composure is about to go to shit.
He reaches for the hem of his shirt and pulls it off in one smooth motion, and just like that I’m looking at more bare chest than my poor heart can handle.
Oh. My. God.
I knew he was built; you can’t miss that chest and those shoulders in his shirts, but seeing him like this is something else… My cowboy’s chest is broad and defined, with just the right amount of dark hair scattered across his pecs. His abs are cut in a way that makes my mouth water, and his arms… Jesus, his arms are drool-worthy. There’s a tattoo on his left shoulder that I can see clearly now, some kind of tribal design that wraps around his bicep, and then there are the scars… Thin white lines across his ribs that speak of a harder life than the one he has now. They take nothing away from his pure masculine beauty. Nope. If anything, they make him look more badass, hotter.
“You okay?” he asks, and I realize I’ve been frozen in place, staring. Openly. For way too long. Hopefully not drooling?…
“Fine,” I manage to croak out. Heat is crawling up my neck, my nipples are hard points, my pussy spasming and leaking, my clit tingling.. “The… try on the jacket… please.”
He slides into the suit jacket, and somehow this is even worse. The charcoal gray fabric stretches perfectly across his broad shoulders, and with his chest still partially visible under the open fabric, he looks like something out of my dirtiest fantasies. The kind of fantasies I definitely shouldn’t be thinking about right now.
“How does it feel?” I ask, grateful my voice sounds a bit more normal.
“Good. A little tight in the shoulders, maybe.” I bet…
I step closer with my measuring tape, trying to ignore the way my pulse speeds up. “Let me check.”
