Page 27 of Ghosted Cowboy
We barely made it to the bedroom.
After the day we'd had—I needed this. Needed him. Needed to feel alive and safe and real.
Ransom seemed to feel the same desperate edge. We kissed our way down the hall, stumbling, hands everywhere. He pinned me against the wall outside my bedroom, his body holding mine there, and I could feel how much he wanted this too. Wanted me.
"Rainey—" His words came out unsteady.
"Don't talk." I pulled his mouth back to mine. "Just—please—"
He understood. His hands slid under my thighs, lifted me. I wrapped my legs around his waist, and we were moving again, through my bedroom door. We stripped each other with fumbling urgency, buttons popping, articles of clothing hitting the floor in a flurry of fabric.
When we finally made it to my bed, both of us bare and breathless, he hovered over me. The bedside lamp cast warm light across us, catching in his dark eyes.
"Wait." I touched his face, traced the line of his jaw. "I need to say something first."
His hands stilled on my hips. "Okay."
"The other night was incredible." I ran my fingers through his hair. "But tonight, I want us to slow down. I want to memorize everything. Because I'm choosing this, Ransom. Choosing us. And I need you to know that."
His expression changed—heat and tenderness mixing until I had to look away or I'd start crying. "Then let me memorize you too. This moment."
What started desperate turned deliberate. He kissed me slowly, thoroughly, like he had all the time in the world. His touch traced every curve—my waist, my hips, the sensitive spot behind my knee that made me giggle.
"Can’t get you out of my head," he murmured against my skin.
"Ransom—" His name came out breathless.
He settled between my thighs, the weight of him right, and when he finally pushed inside me, white heat burst behind my eyelids. The stretch, the fullness made me cry out.
"Okay?" he asked, pausing.
"Yes." I wrapped my legs around his hips, pulled him deeper. "Don't stop."
He didn't. He moved with deliberate purpose, deep and steady, watching my face as I matched his rhythm, rising to meet him, and we found that place we'd always fit together—moving as one.
"You feel so damn good," he rasped. "So good for me."
"Faster," I breathed. "I need—"
He knew what I needed. His pace increased, driving into me harder now. Somewhere behind us, wood knocked against plaster. His hand slid between us, fingers finding where we were joined, circling with the right pressure.
I was close, so close—
"Look at me," he commanded. "Want to see you."
I forced my eyes open, met his gaze, and the intensity there pushed me over. I came apart, crying out his name, my body clenching around him. He followed a heartbeat later, groaning as he emptied himself inside me, his face buried in my neck.
We stayed like that for a long moment, hearts racing together, foreheads touching. Finally, he rolled us to our sides, still joined, pulling the quilt over us.
"Stay," I whispered. "All night."
"All night," he agreed. "And tomorrow night. And every night after if you'll have me."
I traced patterns on his chest, felt his heartbeat slow beneath my palm. "Is this real? Are we really doing this?"
"We're really doing this." He pressed his lips to my brow. "No more ghosting. No more disappearing. I'm here, Rainey. I'm staying."
I snuggled closer, let my eyes drift closed. In his arms, with his heart beating against mine, the fear finally faded. The uncertainty, the sabotage—none of it mattered in this moment. We'd figure it out together.
