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My heart was cloud nine. He was making sure I was okay.After everything, he was making sure thatIwasokay.
I nodded, clinging to him, my breasts pressed against his hard chest. I needed less clothes and more skin, morehim.
“You sure?”
“Denver, touch me,” I begged.
I was pulled from the door, spun around, and pushed back against it. The air in my lungs left my body in awhoosh. He pressed against me from behind, his hand wrapping around my throat, squeezing gently. I whimpered, remembering the last time we were in the position.
“Wanted to pound into you then,” he growled into my ear, somehow reading my mind. “Fuck, I wanted to make you scream. Fuck you until you promised to be a good girl for me.” He snapped his hips, and I could feel his hard erection against my ass. “You wanted that too, didn’t you?”
Yes.
I wanted it then and I wanted it now.
I tried to reach for him, but his free hand snatched my wrists and pinned them above my head.
He grinded against my ass shamelessly as he continued, “Fisted my cock thinking about you, Valerie. You’ve been in my fucking head since the second you stepped foot on my ranch.”
I pushed back against him, needed more, but he didn’t move his hands—just his hips. My mind was trying to keep up with his words, so my heart could hold onto them, but my body wasn’t paying attention.
“Coming on my ranch, looking likethat, looking up at me with your big green eyes,” he sneered, head pressed against mine as he continued to shamelessly hump me. “Fuck, I shouldn’t want you.”
“Honey,” I whispered.
He froze and he squeezed my throat harder. “That guy who took your virginity and toss you aside like trash, you call him that?”
“What?”
“You call any other man that?”
“No,” I breathed through his grip. The hands at my wrists dropped down to my ass, his large, rough, warm palm rubbing in circles. I felt him lean back a bit, and I twisted to find his eyes on my ass.
“You call any other man that, I’ll make this ass red, baby,” he murmured. I gaped at him, my body trembling against the door. My eyes drifted to the kitchen, to the window above the sink. Then a chill ran down my spine.
“Denver, Caleb—”
“Boys are in pasture two for the day. Suppose to be out there with them,” he explained, his voice rough.
He was missing work. He had a ranch to run.
“If you need to—”
The hand around my neck snapped up to my jaw, gripping it firmly and he leaned in, towering over my tall frame. “You were leaving,” he spat, his eyes flaring.
I swallowed. “Yes.”
“You feel this?” he clipped, pressing against me.
This.
That little word held so much weight, and it terrified me.
But I still found myself saying, “Yes.”
That was all he needed to hear, because with the next second, after a vicious tug, my panties were on the floor and Denver’s finger was sliding through my folds. The feeling of someone else’s hand caused me to moan—because this wasn’t my hand. This was a hand that belonged to a cowboy. A rough, rude, arrogant, dark, murdering cowboy.
My body loved it.
