Page 9 of The Cowboy's Close Quarters Claim

All I see is a vague shadow of bare skin, sinewy muscle, and dark-colored boxer briefs, highlighted by dim starlight from the open window.

Gunner stands there, running his hand through his hair a few times and muttering to himself before finally lowering himself to the floor and arranging part of the blanket over himself, leaving a polite distance between us.

Which has me irrationally angry.

Gunner

There's probably campinggear up in those bins in the loft; spare sleeping bags and blankets, ground clothes-- probably even a tent or two.

The sane part of me that still has an ounce of reason left thinks about grabbing it and bedding down as far away from Clem as I can get. That's not the part of me that's winning the argument though.

Something inside me that's stronger than good sense has me shucking my boots and jeans and crawling into the palette she's made on the floor till I can feel the heat emanating from her body.

It's only then that I manage to remind myself of our situation.

Clem's not my woman. She's my goddamn employee, for fuck's sake.

No matter what I heard earlier or how strong the need to claim her as mine is, this isn't the time or place.

And she doesn't want me anyway.

Under the blanket beside me, Clementine stirs restlessly, pushing the covers my way as if to put a barrier between us.

"Don't worry," I mutter, rolling on my side so my back is to her heat, "I'm not going to try anything."

Behind me, I hear a snort like she thinks that's funny.

"Course not..." whatever she says after that is muffled in the blankets as she turns her back to me as well.

"What was that?" I snap, turning back toward the form lying beside me in the dark.

"I said--" Clem's voice is strained with barely contained rage as she flips around to face me, "-- of course you won't try anything...you're not man enough."

Whatever restraint I was clinging to snaps. The blanket is tossed aside hastily as I move toward the woman challenging me in the darkness.

She shuts up fast enough when I'm covering her thick body with my own. Beneath me, Clementine swallows hard as I press my cock into the soft heat of her mound.

"How's that?" My voice feels gruff in my throat. "Is that man enough for you?"

Her knees fall open under me, letting me settle between those lush thighs so I feel the searing heat of her pussy along my shaft through the thin fabric still between us.

Firm fingers grip my sides and she rocks against me in a way that has my dick surging insistently.

"Any girl will tell you it's not the size of the pen that counts, O'Leary; what's important is how you write your name."

She might be snarking at me still, but there's no mistaking that invitation, especially not with the way her knees rise to cage my thighs or the feel of her fingertips dragging up my back and back down to grab my ass.

Then her lips are on mine, parting for me so I can drag my tongue against hers in a kiss that takes as much as it gives in return.

"Then let me show you how I write my name, Clementine." I rasp the words against her skin, kissing along her soft jawline and down her throat, taking my time as I make my way lower. "I'm going to sign my name on every fucking inch of you so you never forget who you belong to."

She doesn't give me any more sass. Instead, I get a deep moan, unrestrained and completely wanton, when I pull one hard nipple between my teeth through the material of the skimpy little top she's got on.

Earlier, she was doing her best to make sure I didn't hear the noises she makes when she's consumed in pleasure, but now I'm going to make sure I get them all.

5

CLEMENTINE

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