He leads me inside, kicking the back door closed as he leads me toward the hall.
We step inside to a king-size four-poster bed made of dark wood, the bed made. He backs me onto it, never breaking the kiss. I fall flat on my back, my hands tugging him to me until the line of his body pins me soft against the duvet.
Cam stops, forehead to mine. “We don’t have to—”
“Shut up.”
He laughs, unzipping and pulling my boots off, then kicking off his own before hovering over me, his lips devouring mine. His hands slide up my thighs, thumbs tracing slow lines along the inside that make my breath catch. He pulls back just enough to look at me, really look, his brown eyes dark and certain.
“You’re so damn beautiful.” His voice is rough at the edges. Not performed. Just true.
I reach up and pull his shirt over his head, and whatever I was going to say next completely abandons me. The man is unreasonably built, all planes and warm skin and that cedar scent that has been undoing me since a horse barn in Rosewood County. His stacked abs are ridiculous, his golden v-cut tapering down below his belt. Dark hair dusts his abdomen just under his belly, and I can’t wait to get my hands on him.
I press my palms flat against his chest and feel his heart hammering. Good. Mine is doing the same thing.
His mouth finds my collarbone, then my throat, kissing me slowly.
“Cam.”
“I’ve got you.” He says it against my shoulder like a promise, and I believe him. That’s the part that surprises me. I just believe him.
His teeth nip at the soft spot below my ear. “I’ve wanted this since a pond at three in the morning,” he says.
“You and me both, Cowboy.”
My fingers find his hair, and I stop being polite about what I want. My hands run over his bare chest, learning him, before shoving his shirt down his shoulders. He yanks it off, his hands moving to my thighs, massaging them slowly as we writhe against each other.
“Mmm.” The sound is low against my skin, vibrating straight through me as he pushes up the skirt to reveal my new underwear.
“Where did you get these?”
“A boutique in town.”
He bends down and kisses my black thong right on the words Cowboys Do It Better in rhinestones.
He reaches behind me, finding the zipper of my dress and eases it down with such a dirty grin it makes my whole nervous system short-circuit.
“I want you, Cam.”
“You’ve got me, Mallory.”
The dress goes. His jeans follow, along with my bra. And then there is nothing between us but warm skin and the Hill Country evening pressing soft through the open window, and Cam looking at me like I am the only thing in his entire orbit.
“You are magnificent.” He kisses my breasts, squeezing one while licking the other. He takes his time, unhurried and certain, like a man who has nowhere else to be and loves what he is doing.
I have been wanted before. This is different. This is Cam finding every place I’ve been guarding with no intention ofleaving anything untouched. The curve of my hip. My scar. My belly.
He edges his fingers around to my backside as he grabs the globes of my rear and squeezes. “I love this ass, Mallory.” The words are said somewhere between my hip bones as he worships me.
I feel so free in this moment that I sit up, pushing him off me. “Get on your back, Cowboy.”
“I’m not through playing.”
“Get. On. Your. Back.” I squeeze my arms on either side of my breasts, and he does exactly as I say.
I straddle his broad chest, pinning him down with my thighs. Then I grab his wrists and press them into the mattress above his head, tasting the surprised laugh on his lips, the hard edge of his need beneath my thigh. “You’re not in charge right now.”
“No?”
