Page 28 of Claimed By the Cowboys

“What do you need, Piper?” he murmurs softly.

I crack a small smile. “A full sentence from Dalton? Today is special.”

He grunts. “You’re special.”

A smile ghosts across my face. “That’s really sweet. Thank you.”

His finger traces the shell of my ear before lingering down the line of my neck. I shiver, his touch igniting a million sparks everywhere he lands.

“What do you need, Piper?”

I was so stupid to think that I could do this. That I could keep things friendly between us. My breath is sawing in and out of my lungs, and my skin feels like it’s on fire. I don’t think it’s the wine that’s making me react this way…

It’s Dalton. It’s all the feelings that I’ve held back for years. Every time I’ve watched him talk to his horses, as he’s so gentle with them… I bark out a laugh.

Dalton freezes. “You good?”

“Yeah. No. Yeah. I am. I was just thinking that you always know what to do with horses in this type of situation.”

He makes a noise. “I don’t do this with horses, Piper.”

I laugh, but it’s nervous and shrill. “No. I know that. I mean like… you’re so good with them. You calm them down, and you always seem to know exactly what to say.”

Dalton snorts. “Never know what to say.”

“You do with the horses,” I say, peering up at him from underneath my lashes. “You make them feel better.”

Dalton stares at me for a minute longer, then he moves forward. His hands cautiously come up to my shoulders. I’m wearing nothing special. A button-down white shirt and a loose-fitting pair of jeans. The shirt is a little sticky from the wine, but still.

Dalton’s hands feel like they’re burning through the fine fabric. He skates his fingers up my shoulders, and I shiver.

“Horses don’t like sudden movements,” he says.

God, I’ve never seen anyone move so slow. It’s like his body is in another time entirely. His muscles are all so firm, and he’s just… meticulous.

Dalton’s hands slowly come up to frame my face. He leans forward, and my breath hitches as his face comes close to mine. He’s so much taller than I am, and he’s arching down to bring his lips…

No kissing.

It goes off like a five-alarm sound in my mind. I freeze, staring up at him.

“Dalton. No kissing,” I whisper.

He goes as still as a stone. His hands are still framing my face, and he isn’t moving. When I look into his brown eyes, I see… panic.

Shit.

Dalton sprinted away the other day when emotions overwhelmed him. I don’t want him to feel like he’s being rejected, because he’s not…

“Just touch me. Please,” I whisper.

The word ‘please’ seems to jumpstart him. He nods, and his hands move to my front, tugging at the buttons on my white linen shirt.

Slowly, Dalton pulls the shirt apart. His hands drift up to my shoulders, and I shiver when they touch my bare skin.

He freezes. “You good?”

I don’t trust myself to speak. So a nod is all I can do.

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