Page 12 of Dirty Sweet Cowboy

And I don't want to go back. I want to move forward. Want to claim this girl completely. Want to make her mine in every way possible.

Soon. Not tonight, but soon.

nine

. . .

Judy

We're sitting on the porch swing as night fully settles over the ranch, stars blanketing the sky in a way I never saw in the city. Wayne's arm is around me, heavy and warm across my shoulders, my body tucked against his side like it belongs there. His confession in the pasture changed everything—the open acknowledgment of this thing between us making it impossible to ignore, to pretend away. I can't stop thinking about the raw hunger in his voice when he said he wanted to touch me "every way there is." But there's something I need to tell him. Something important. I've been gathering my courage for the past twenty minutes, rehearsing the words in my head, my heart racing like a trapped bird against my ribs.

The porch light casts a soft yellow glow over us, moths fluttering around it in erratic circles. Cricket song fills the darkness beyond the light's reach. Wayne's thumb traces lazy patterns on my shoulder, each small circle sending tingles down my spine.

"What's going on in that head of yours?" he asks, voice rumbling through his chest where my cheek rests against him. "You're thinking so loud I can practically hear it."

A small laugh escapes me, nervous and breathy. "Am I that obvious?"

"To me? Yeah." His arm tightens slightly around me. "You can tell me anything, angel. Nothing's gonna change how I feel."

How he feels. He hasn't actually said those words—how he feels—but I know. I can feel it in the way he touches me, looks at me, protects me. And I think I feel the same way, despite how fast this is happening, how little time we've known each other.

"I..." My voice catches. I swallow hard and try again. "I need to tell you something. About me."

He shifts slightly, angling his body toward mine without breaking contact. "I'm listening."

The kindness in his voice nearly breaks me. He's been nothing but gentle with me, despite the fierce desire I know simmers beneath his controlled exterior. I've felt it—in his kiss, in the hardness that presses against me when we're close, in the dark promise of his words.

"I've never..." I can't look at him as I say it, focusing instead on my fingers twisting in the fabric of my dress. "I've never been with anyone. Like that. At all."

The confession hangs in the air between us. I wait, breath held, for his response.

His body goes completely still against mine. Then he exhales, a long, controlled breath. "Look at me, Judy."

The use of my name instead of the usual "angel" makes me glance up, meeting his eyes. There's no disappointment there, no frustration. Just heat and something that might be…awe?

"You mean you're completely untouched?" His voice is rough, deeper than usual.

I nod, cheeks burning. "I've been kissed before. But nothing more. Nothing…intimate."

A sound escapes him—half groan, half sigh—and then his hand is in my hair, tilting my face up as he presses his lips to my forehead in a gesture so tender it makes my chest ache.

"You're perfect, baby," he murmurs against my skin. "So fucking perfect."

Relief washes through me. I wasn't sure what reaction to expect—disappointment, maybe, that I'd be fumbling and inexperienced. Or worse, that he might lose interest completely.

"I don't want you to think I'm…that I can't..." I'm stumbling over the words, embarrassed and vulnerable.

"Shhh." He pulls back to look at me, his green eyes dark and serious in the porch light. "Listen to me. I'll take my time, worship every inch until you're ready for Daddy's cock."

The crude words paired with the endearment—Daddy—sends a bolt of heat straight between my legs. My thighs press together instinctively, seeking pressure against the sudden ache there.

"You'll tell me what feels good," he continues, one large hand sliding to cup my cheek. "I'll teach you everything. How to touch me. How to take me. We'll go as slow as you need."

His thumb brushes across my lower lip, and I can't help but part my lips slightly, breath coming faster. The intensity in his gaze makes me feel both seen and sheltered, vulnerable and powerful all at once.

"And when you're ready," he says, voice dropping even lower, "when you're wet and aching and begging for me, I'll fill you up so good you'll wonder how you ever lived without me inside you."

A whimper escapes me, embarrassingly needy. My nipples have tightened into hard peaks beneath my dress, and I'm acutely aware of the dampness gathering between my thighs.