Page 30 of Owned By The Cowboy
His mouth crashes down on mine, and this kiss is nothing like the one we shared in my sewing room. This one’s desperate, hungry, all teeth, tongue and barely controlled need. His huge hands are everywhere. Touching my face, running through my hair, gripping my waist. Like he can’t fucking decide.
I kiss him back just as desperately, my hands exploring the broad expanse of his chest, feeling the muscles flex under my touch. He tastes like toothpaste and something darker, more masculine, and I can’t get enough. Of his soft, warm skin, his hard body, his smell, his taste, the gruff sounds he’s making…
When he breaks the kiss to breathe, Blayne’s forehead lowers to come rest against mine, and we’re both panting.
“This is a bad idea,” he breathes out raggedly, but his hands are still on me, still holding me tightly against his powerful, half-naked body.
“Probably,” I agree on a huff of air. “But I don’t care.”
“I can’t give you what you deserve, princess.”
“Fuck you, Blayne. I’m not a fucking princess,” I reply just as quietly. Eyes glued to his, as we’re both fighting to get what we want, what we need, against ourselves, against each other. In intense, crazed whispers, with our bodies burning to finally connect. “I’m asking you to give me what I want.”
“What’s that, sweets?”
I look up at him, this man who’s been haunting my thoughts for a week, and so much longer than I’ve allowed myself to acknowledge, and tell him the truth.
“You. Just you. For however long this lasts.”
Something shifts in his expression at that, something that looks like immense relief mixed with ravenous hunger.
“You sure about this?” he asks again.
“I’m sure.”
“Because once we start, there’s no going back, sweetheart.”
“I don’t wanna go back.”
Blayne studies my face for a long beat, then he nods.
“Okay,” he says. “But we do this my way.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means no expectations. No promises. No talk about the future or where this is going.”
His words sting. A lot. But I push the feeling aside. This is what I came here for: total honesty.
“Fine,” I reply. “It’s just sex.”
“Just sex,” he repeats, and that hurts too.
“So what now?” I ask, pushing through the tightening in my chest. The thought that this amazing man doesn’t want me. My kids. Our family. That all he thinks he has to give me is his body…
But instead of answering, Blayne lifts me up, my legs wrapping around his waist automatically, as he carries me down the hall.
“Now,” he says against my neck, “I show you exactly what you do to me.”
His bedroom is simple, masculine, uncluttered. With an Alaska-king-size bed covered in dark sheets, heavy, dark wood furniture that looks like it will last forever, and vast windows that face the rolling hills behind his house. The view is amazing, but I barely notice it.
He sets me down gently next to the bed, and I feel myself getting nervous. It’s been more than a year since I’ve been with anyone, and even then, things with Richard had been off for ages. I remind myself this is different. That what I’ll share with Blayne matters. Whether I admit it to him or not…
“Any second thoughts?” he asks in a choppy voice, running the tip of his nose along my jaw.. Inhaling my scent. Like he’s memorizing me. Cataloging me. Taking what he can before I change my mind. Oh, my poor summer child. No one’s changing their mind tonight. Even if I’m nervous.
“It’s been a while,” I admit.
“How long?” Blayne’s warm breath is travelling down my neck.
