Page 18 of Her Steamy Cowboy

"Do you have any idea," he mutters against my lips, "how hard it is to sit through an entire meeting watching you and not being able to touch you?"

I laugh breathlessly, pushing at his chest. "We're at work, Jace."

"Meeting's over." He nips at my bottom lip, then soothes it with his tongue. "Stay with me tonight."

"What?"

"At the main house." His hands slide up my sides. "I hate watching you walk up to that apartment alone. Stay with me instead."

“There you go with that bossy tone again,” I laugh, trying to ignore how my heart flutters at the thought of waking up next to him again.

He growls against my neck. “You love it."

The truth is, he's right—I do love it. Love this new confidence between us, the way he's suddenly so sure about what he wants.

But I can't resist teasing him a little.

"I don't know..." I pretend to consider, even as his lips trail down my neck. "My apartment has better water pressure."

He pulls back just enough to look at me, one eyebrow raised. "Really? That's what you're going with?"

"And my coffee maker?—"

His mouth captures mine again, effectively ending that line of argument. When he finally lets me breathe, I've forgotten what I was protesting about.

"Stay with me," he says again, softer this time. His forehead rests against mine, and I can feel his heart racing where my hands are pressed against his chest. "I'll even let you bring your fancy coffee maker."

"How generous of you." But I'm already melting, already knowing I'm going to say yes. It's impossible to deny him anything when he's looking at me like this, like I'm everything he's ever wanted.

A noise in the hallway makes us jump apart. Jace runs a hand through his hair, looking delightfully rumpled, while I try to straighten my blouse.

"Tonight?" he asks. His voice is still rough around the edges.

I bite my lip, pretending to check my calendar on my phone. "I suppose I could clear my schedule..."

Quick as a rattlesnake, he pulls me back against him. "You're playing with fire, baby.”

"Good thing I've got a cowboy to keep me safe," I whisper against his lips.

His answering growl sends shivers down my spine. "Seven o'clock. Don't be late." He steals one more kiss before heading for the door, and I definitely don't watch the way his jeans fit as he walks away.

Okay, maybe I watch a little.

Seven o'clock findsme slipping through the side door of the main house, the one that leads directly to the back staircase.

My heart is pounding, but not just from sneaking around—there's something thrilling about this, about knowing Jace is waiting for me upstairs.

The Clayton house is a sprawling ranch-style house with a separate second-story addition. It was built by Jace's great-grandfather and expanded over generations. Now, all four Clayton brothers live here, along with their significant others.

Usually, the house is full of life—boots thumping on hardwood floors, country music drifting from the kitchen, screen doors banging as the brothers come and go.

But tonight, the house is quiet.

Everyone is off doing their own things, which means it's just me and Jace, and the thought makes my pulse quicken.

I know these stairs by heart—which steps creak and which don't—from countless late nights working on ranch projects in Jace's office. But this time feels different. This time, I'm heading to his bedroom instead.

His room is at the end of the east wing, far from the others. I've only been in here a handful of times over the years, usually to grab something for him when he was sick or injured. Now I pause outside his door, suddenly nervous. Before I can overthink it, I turn the handle and slip inside.

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