Page 74 of Wrangling the Orc Cowboy

I faced him. “Tark, the heat I’m interested in has nothing to do with food.”

“Heat…” His face cleared, and his eyes smoldered. “Hold on. You said you only needme.”

“I do. In every way possible. I want to take you to my room, lock the door behind us, remove our clothing and climb into bed.”

His head tilted, his gaze narrowing on my face. “To sleep?”

My lips curled up. “Maybe by morning if you’re worn out.”

“Redness could result from this,” he said quite gravely.

“I want you. I want redness. Lots of redness.”

“You do?”

Biting on my lower lip, I nodded.

His growl ripped from his chest, and he lifted me, flinging me over his shoulder. Thuds rang out as he raced down the hall, only slowing when we reached my door and flung it open. It slammed against the interior wall as he stepped inside, where he kicked it closed behind him.

In seconds, he tumbled me onto the bed and followed me down onto the blankets. He braced himself over me, his gaze meeting mine.

“I love you. I want you forever, Gracie. I’ll watch every streaming image and do whatever those cowboys do as long as you feel the same one day.”

“Aw, I love you too!”

“You do?”

“Darn right, cowboy. I do.” I looped my arms around his neck. “No streaming images or cowboy moves needed.” I yanked off his hat and tossed it aside. “Just kiss me. Touch me. And love me.”

“I do. I will.” He was so happy and goofy that my heart melted.

Tark’s weight pressed into the mattress around me, his body tense, his breathing already ragged. His hands hovered, unsure, his fingers twitching like he wanted to touch me but was afraid to do it wrong. I reached for him first, smoothing my palms over his broad shoulders, feeling the strength coiled beneath his skin.

“Gracie,” he groaned. “Only you. Always you.”

His fingers skimmed the edge of my shirt, and when he paused, I guided them to the hem and lifted my arms. He caught his breath and tugged the fabric upward, his touch careful and endlessly endearing.

I wasn’t sure I’d ever felt this treasured before.

His vest came next. He slipped it off, his muscles flexing, and flung it to the side. I ran my hands down his chest, tracing the hard ridges and the heat beneath his green skin. A shudder traveled through him.

“I like when you touch me,” he said.

I smiled. “Good, because I plan on touching you a lot.”

He grunted, his eyes darkening even further as he reached for the top of my lounge pants. His fingers fumbled with theornamental tie I'd bound at least three times to keep it from coming undone. He growled under his breath and wrangled with it some more, deep furrows appearing across his brow.

I covered his hands with mine, fighting a laugh. “You can leave it.”

“No,” he said, his jaw tight. “I want to learn how to remove this human garment from your body.”

“As long as you know it's not a fastener, only a bow for decoration.”

He scowled at it. “I'll still undo it.”

I lifted my hands. “It's yours. I'm yours.”

His determination sent warmth flooding through me. I stayed still, letting him work, each brush of his fingers against my skin igniting something deep in my core. The bow finally unraveled, and his pride shone through the glare he sent it.

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