Page 59 of Claimed By the Cowboy
“Maybe.” Tom's palms stroke up my thighs, thumbs tracing small circles through my jeans. “Or maybe I can’t get enough of touching you.”
The honest admission sends heat pooling low in my belly, but I force myself to stay focused. We need to have this conversation, even if his proximity makes it difficult to think.
“Tom.” I cup his face, forcing him to look at me. “I love that you want to protect me. I love that you care enough to worry. But I’m not going to break.”
Tom’s hands tighten on my thighs. “Kitty?—”
“I want a partner, not a bodyguard.” I let my fingers trail from his lips to trace the strong line of his jaw. “I want a husband who trusts me to be strong enough for ranch life.”
“You are strong enough.” The words come out rough. “You’re the strongest person I know.”
“Then prove it.” The challenge in my voice makes his eyes sharpen with interest. “Stop carrying my groceries. Stop hovering when I work in the garden. Stop checking on me every twenty minutes like I might collapse.”
He sticks out his bottom lip. “I don’t hover.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Yesterday, you brought me water four times while I was weeding the herb garden. Four times in two hours.”
“You need to stay hydrated.”
“I need my husband to trust that I know when I’m thirsty.” I lean closer until our foreheads touch. “I need you to believe I’m not going anywhere.”
He’s quiet for a long moment, fingers stroking absently along my legswhile he processes what I’m saying. When he speaks, his voice carries a vulnerability that only I get to see.
“I came so close to losing you. Closer than I ever want to come again.” He lifts a hand to cup my neck, tracing his thumb over my pulse point like he’s reassuring himself that my heart is still beating. “Maybe I have been a little overprotective.”
“A little?” I laugh softly. “Tom, you tried to cut my meat for me at dinner last night.”
“You were using your left hand because your right was sore from garden work?—”
“And I’m perfectly capable of cutting my food with my left hand.” I press a quick kiss to his lips. “I think I can handle a steak knife.”
He sighs, pulling me closer until I’m pressed against his chest. “You’re right. It’s just...”
“What?”
Vulnerability flickers across his face. “I should have anticipated?—”
“Stop.” I press my fingers to his lips, cutting off the self-recrimination. “You can’t protect me fromevery possible threat in the world. And I don’t want you to try.”
This is why I love him—this fierce devotion, this absolute commitment to my wellbeing. But it’s also why we need to find a balance.
“I’m yours,” I murmur, nipping at his lower lip. “Completely, absolutely yours. But that doesn’t mean I’m helpless.”
“You’re mine to protect.” Tom cups my face. “Everything in me says to keep you safe, but my instincts need some convincing.”
“Then let me convince them.” I slide a hand down his chest, savoring the ridges of his abs, until I reach the bulge straining the front of his jeans. “Starting now.”
He groans. “Kitty?—”
“Nope.” I press my finger to his lips again. “No more arguments. No more hovering. Trust me to know my own limits.”
The internal struggle plays out across his features—protective instincts warring withrespect for my autonomy.
Finally, he nods slowly.“Okay. I’ll try.”
“Good.” I kiss him properly, pouring all my love and gratitude into the contact. “Because I have plans for this afternoon that?—”
The front door bangs open without warning, and Daniel’s voice cuts through the cabin like a blade. “Tom! We’ve got a problem!”
