Page 29 of September’s Cowboy Travis

His jaw tightened. The next thrust was harder, making me gasp, and he watched my face before doing it again.

“Yes.”

That was enough. The pace between us changed. I wrapped my legs tighter around him and met every thrust, telling him what I wanted and pulling him closer when he got it right.

Then his hand found mine against the mattress, and he threaded our fingers together.

I'd expected sex with Travis to be good. What I hadn't expected was the attention—the way he watched me, listened to me, and held my hand as though that contact mattered just as much as everything else. And there was nothing casual about any of it.

The pressure built until I couldn't hold back. His name came out on a broken breath, and his fingers tightened around mine as I came undone.

Travis stayed with me, slowing just enough before the last of his control broke. His forehead dropped to touch mine, my name rough against my neck as he followed me over the edge.

For several seconds afterward, neither of us moved. Then he kissed my temple, such a quiet contrast to everything we'd just done that I felt it deep within my chest. I might be in over my head, but I didn’t regret a second.

Travis rolled onto his side and pulled me with him. His hair was a mess, and a red mark showed on one shoulder that I was pretty sure I'd put there.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Very.”

His mouth ticked up. “Good.”

I kissed him again, slower now that neither of us was in a hurry.

A little while later, Travis got up and came back carrying two bottles of water. I had pulled the sheet over myself and was still exactly where he'd left me. He stopped next to the bed.

“What?”

One side of his mouth kicked up. “You're still here.”

“You look surprised.”

“A little.”

I took the water from him. “I told you I wasn't planning to leave.”

“Yeah.” His expression softened. “You did.”

He climbed back into bed and pulled me against his chest. Outside the window, the ranch was quiet except for the occasional low sound of the cattle somewhere beyond the house.

My car was sitting in plain view at the rodeo grounds, right where anyone driving past could see it. By morning, half of Mustang Mountain would probably know exactly where I'd gone. I couldn't make myself care.

For someone who'd built a career on knowing when it was time to leave, I had nowhere else I wanted to be.

CHAPTER 7

TRAVIS

I woke up Monday morning with Kaycee Harper in my bed and spent a solid minute watching her sleep. She was on her stomach, one arm tucked under her cheek and most of the sheet twisted around her legs. Her hair spread across my pillow instead of pulled back the way she usually wore it, and her glasses sat next to a half-empty bottle of water on the nightstand.

Women had slept in my bed before. That wasn't exactly breaking news in Mustang Mountain. But I couldn't remember ever lying there noticing where somebody had left her glasses or thinking about how her hair looked on my pillow.

Usually I knew what came next before either of us opened our eyes. Somebody got dressed and found their keys. That was pretty much the end of it.

Kaycee had told me she wasn't leaving. Then she'd stayed.

I eased out of bed without waking her and pulled on my jeans. The ranch didn't care what time I'd gone to sleep, and the cattle sure as hell didn't care that I'd rather stay in bed and wake her up with my cheeks between her thighs.