Page 16 of Curvy Girl and the Ex-Military Cowboy

I shift us, guiding her gently back until she's lying on the blanket and I'm leaning over her, still kissing her as if we might never get another chance. Her body is soft beneath mine, her curves fitting against my harder edges in ways that make it difficult to think clearly.

My hand slides down her side, feeling the shape of her through the layers of my jacket and her dress. She arches slightly into the touch, and I feel a groan build in my throat.

Suddenly, Elena pulls back, breaking the kiss. Her breathing is as ragged as mine, her lips slightly swollen, her eyes wide and dark in the starlight.

"I'm embarrassed to say this," she whispers, her accent more pronounced in her breathlessness, "but I need to be honest. I'm... I'm too... aroused right now. If you don't stop, I won't either."

Her forthrightness startles a laugh out of me—not mocking but delighted. Even in this, she's direct, practical.

"You're something else, you know that?" I tell her, brushing my thumb across her lower lip.

"Is that good or bad?" she asks, looking genuinely uncertain.

"Good," I assure her. "Definitely good. I love your honesty."

Relief flashes across her face, followed by something more heated as my hand moves back to her waist.

"We should probably slow down," I say, though my body is screaming the opposite, my cock straining against my briefs.

Elena nods, but her hands remain on my shoulders. "Probably."

Neither of us moves to create distance. Instead, I find myself leaning down to kiss her again, softer this time but no less intense. My hand slides to the hem of her dress, fingers grazing the bare skin of her thigh. Her sharp intake of breath emboldens me.

Nervously, I begin to fidget with the bottom of her dress, unsure if I'm pushing too far, too fast. My fingers, used to ropes and reins and rifle triggers, feel clumsy against the delicate fabric.

She breaks the kiss again.

"Aaron," she says softly, placing her hand over mine. "What are we doing?"

It's a fair question. One I don't have a good answer for.

"I don't know," I admit. "This wasn't... I didn't bring you here for this."

She smiles slightly. "I believe you."

"But I'd be lying if I said I didn't want it," I continue, needing her to understand. "I want you."

"I want you too," she whispers, and her accent wraps around the words like silk. "I know this is fast, but—"

I silence her with another kiss, passionate this time, letting her feel exactly how much I want her. Her arms encircle my neck, pulling me closer.

"Are you sure?" I ask against her lips, needing to hear it clearly.

"Yes," she breathes. "Under the stars like this... it feels right."

My jacket has already slipped from her shoulders. I reach for the top button of her dress with fingers that aren't quite steady. One by one, I undo them, revealing more of her skin to the moonlight.

When her dress is open down the front, I push it gently from her shoulders. Beneath, she wears a simple black bra that contrasts beautifully with her pale skin. I trace the line of her collarbone with my fingertips, marveling at how soft she is.

"Your turn," she murmurs, reaching for the buttons of my shirt.

I help her, shrugging out of it and tossing it aside. Her hands find my chest, exploring the contours of muscle, tracing the scars that mark me—some from the ranch, some from war. She doesn't shy away from them, instead touching each one with something like admiration.

"You’re beautiful," she says softly.

No one's called me that before. Handsome, maybe. Strong. But not beautiful. Coming from her, it doesn't feel emasculating—it feels honest.

I reach behind her to unclasp her bra, releasing her breasts to the night air. They're full and round, with rosy nipples that harden as I look at them. I cup one in my palm, thumb brushing across the peak, and she arches into my touch with a soft moan.

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