Page 36 of Cowboy Mountain Man

Echoed in the way I take her mouth, lost in her heat, her flavor, the tiny moans that escape her throat as I devour her all over again.

Her small hand is at the front of my jeans, rubbing over the ridge.

God.

“I’m clean,” I grunt, trying to keep my head on straight. Impossible. “And if we need condoms⁠—”

“Shh,” she cuts me off, kissing me back. Her lips tease mine, sweeter than candy, her tongue darting out to taste me, and undo me a little more. “I’m clean, too,” she says, staring up at me, thick lashes fluttering, “and I’m on the pill. So we don’t need condoms.”

Fuck. That breaks something loose behind my chest. “You sure about that?” I ask, hands tangling in the hair at the base of her neck, fingers moving in slow, lazy circles.

“I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life, Harlan. Nothing between us, okay?”

“Never.” I kick myself the moment the word escapes my lips. What the fuck is wrong with me?

Her jaw goes slack.

“Sorry. I can be a little over the top sometimes,” I apologize. “But for the record, this won’t be casual for me.”

Her eyebrow lifts. “In other words, I’m a keeper?”

“God, yes.” Apparently, my mouth’s decided to fully betray me.

“Good,” she says, eyes grazing over me, hands following across my shoulders, down to my upper arms where she grips me. “Because I really do want to keep you.”

“Even better,” I growl, seizing her mouth ravenously.

Her arms slide around my neck as I lift her into the air, her legs locking around my waist.

“Hope I’m not too heavy for you,” she murmurs against my mouth.

“Light as a feather,” I whisper effortlessly. “You’re too dressed for me, though.” Her hips echo my desire, her body moving against me.

“Then what are you waiting for, Cowboy?”

Chapter

Six

HOPE

I’m terrified of what he’ll think.

About me. About my body.

Every inch of Harlan is carved from granite. Hard. Unyielding. Sculpted.

And I’m soft. Plump. All the things society says a woman must downsize and downgrade to be desirable.

But as the towering cowboy slowly peels away layers of fabric, all I find in his eyes is desire. Swirling. Passionate. Undeniable.

His hands move slowly, sensually. Taking his time. Just like he promised. Chasing his rough, work-hardened hands with his lips and his tongue. One simmering inch at a time.

“God,” I moan as he slides a hand beneath me, unclasping my bra, then removing it with his mouth. His lips. His teeth.

His tongue circles, laps at me, then he sucks me into his mouth. My hands are in his hair, pressing him against me as he devours one breast at a time.

Slow.