Page 46 of Owned By The Cowboy
“Later, Mama,” he murmurs against my mouth.
“Later, cowboy,” I reply dreamily.
Fourteen
Reggie
I’m lying in bed staring at the ceiling when I hear the soft scrape of something against my window. My heart immediately starts doing backflips, because I know exactly what that sound is.
Or rather, who it is.
I slip out of bed and walk over to the window, pulling back the curtain to see Blayne balanced on the thick branch of the tree outside my bedroom. He’s still wearing his dress pants from the dance, but he’s lost the jacket and tie, and his white shirt is rolled up at the sleeves, exposing his corded forearms. And I can see the grin on his face in the moonlight.
I open the window as quietly as possible.
“You actually climbed the tree,” I whisper.
“You told me to climb the tree.”
“I was being hypothetical.”
“I don’t do hypothetical.”
He swings one long, muscular leg over the windowsill, then the other, landing in my bedroom with surprising grace for such a big man.
“This is insane,” I whisper, but I’m already reaching for him.
“Completely insane,” he agrees, pulling me against his chest.
The kiss is immediate and desperate, like we haven’t seen each other in weeks instead of hours. His hands tangle in my hair, and I can taste mint on his tongue like he brushed his teeth before coming over. Well, I did shave…
“How was the rest of the dance after I left?” I ask when we break apart.
When he brought Annalise home, she was asleep in his arms, and we quietly put her to bed before he left through the door. And now he’s back…
“Perfect. We had a great time.” His giant hands slide down to my ass, and his voice gets rougher. “But I spent the last hour thinking about this.” He gives me a squeeze.
“Just this?” I press into his hard body, loving the feel of his long, hard cock against my belly.
“Yeah, and getting you out of these.”
I’m wearing a tank top and shorts, nothing fancy, but the way he’s looking at me makes me feel like I’m dressed in silk and lace.
“The kids are right down the hall,” I remind him in a hushed tone.
“Then you’ll have to be very quiet, gorgeous,” he whispers next to my ear, his hands all over my body, already making me pant.
“Excuse me, you’re not exactly known for being quiet.”
“I can be quiet.”
He grins wickedly, then proves his point by kissing me again, soft and slow this time, like he’s got all the time in the world. His hands slide under my tank top, skimming over my undersides of my breasts, and I have to bite my lip to keep from making noise.
“Bed,” I whisper against his mouth.
“Yes, ma’am.”
We move to my bed, shedding our clothes as quietly as possible. His shirt hits the floor, then my tank top, then his pants. By the time we fall on the mattress together, we’re both breathing hard and trying not to make a sound.
