Page 70 of Ironwood Ranch Cowboys

His last words are so ragged with need, so wildly lost, I want to laugh and cry and claw him closer.

His hips snap, driving into me, and I can feel him surrendering, that wild, animal loss of self that makes all the wanting worthwhile. He buries his face in my hair as he comes with a guttural moan that turns me molten.

I feel the hot pulse inside me, the exquisite collapse of all that self-possession and control, and for a few seconds, maybe a lifetime, we’re just desperate flesh, two selfish animals, clinging to each other for balance in the dark.

After, the sweat evaporates off our skin and his breath slows, slow enough it almost hurts. My own chest is heaving.

For a while there’s only shuddering and the rattle of the air conditioner, and the taste of his sweat and mine, and the impossible ache in my thighs.

I don’t remember closing my eyes, but I must, because the next thing I know my cheek is stuck to the cool pillowcase and Cody is curled against my back, one muscular arm binding me to the planet.

To him.

Exactly where I’m pretty sure I shouldn’t be.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Duke

“So, if the eggs are anything like last night’s laundry, we might have a full-on chemical incident before ten.” I toss a grin at the room, fully aware that no one’s paying attention. “Someone grab a fire extinguisher, or I’ll be forced to eat them all and rate them for structural integrity.”

Sherry snorts, which I consider a victory.

Everyone else? Blank stares.

Cody’s glasses catch the light at a precise angle, as if the reflection alone might erase my words from existence. Annie lifts an eyebrow, weighing the joke on some internal scale that I’m not allowed to see.

What the hell is going on?

Annie usually loves my jokes. Especially when they’re dumb.

Sometimes it’s just that little twitch at the corner of her mouth, trying not to encourage me and failing on principle.

Sometimes it’s a dry comment under her breath that lets me know she was listening even if she’d rather die than admit I’m funny before coffee.

But she reacts. That’s the thing. Annie reacts.

This morning, she’s giving me careful.

Careful is bad.

Careful means she’s either upset, suspicious, hiding something, or trying very hard not to feel whatever she’s feeling.

Since the woman runs on stubbornness and iced coffee, that still leaves too many options for my liking.

She’s at the island in black jeans and a loose charcoal sweater, one hand wrapped around her mug, the other around a piece of toast she doesn’t seem all that interested in.

Her blue hair is twisted up in a knot that’s trying to escape, a few bright strands loose around her face, and there’s a crease between her brows as if she woke up halfway through an argument and hasn’t stopped having it yet.

Normally, she clocks me the second I walk in.

Today, I get a nod and a “morning.” I might as well be some guy who repairs gutters, not one of her bosses and definitely not the man who had her in my bed a few weeks ago.

That stings more than I want it to.

Across the room, Cody is pretending to read a ledger at breakfast because he’s a complete lunatic. Glasses on, shoulders set, attention pinned to the page in that too-controlled way that says he isn’t taking in a damn thing.

He’s adjusted his watch three times in under a minute, which means whatever little system he uses to keep himself from unraveling is currently doing a poor job of it.