Page 10 of Dirty Sweet Cowboy

And then, just as suddenly as it began, he pulls back. His breathing is ragged, chest heaving. He stares at me with eyes gone dark with desire, jaw clenched tight.

"Fuck," he whispers, the word sounding like both curse and prayer.

I'm trembling again, but for entirely different reasons. My lips feel swollen, sensitized. Between my legs, I'm throbbing, empty, aching for something I've never had but suddenly need desperately.

"Wayne," I whisper, leaning toward him again. Please don't stop. Please kiss me again. Please touch me everywhere.

But he stands abruptly, putting distance between us. Runs a hand through his hair, looking conflicted. "You should get some sleep."

"Will you stay?" I ask, surprising myself with my boldness. "Just…just until I fall asleep?"

He hesitates, clearly warring with himself. Then nods once, sharply. "Scoot over."

I slide across the bed, making room. He stretches out on top of the covers while I'm underneath, maintaining that barrier between us. Still, his solid presence beside me is immediately comforting. Safe.

"Close your eyes, angel," he murmurs.

I do as he says, still feeling the ghost of his lips on mine, the phantom pressure of his hand at my waist. My body is alive with new sensations, nerves singing, core aching. Sleep seems impossible.

But somehow, with Wayne's steady breathing beside me, the nightmare stays at bay. And as I drift toward sleep, my last conscious thought is a silent plea: Kiss me again tomorrow.

eight

. . .

Wayne

The sunset paints the sky in shades of orange and pink, casting long shadows across the pasture. It should be beautiful. Probably is. But I can't tear my eyes away from Judy long enough to notice. She's standing next to me at the fence line, golden light catching in her chestnut hair, making her glow like something otherworldly. Something I shouldn't touch. But my hand is already resting on the small of her back, claiming her in a way I have no right to. Been touching her more since that kiss two nights ago. Can't seem to stop myself. A hand at her waist when I pass behind her in the kitchen. Fingers brushing hers when I hand her a coffee mug. My palm against her lower back, like now, guiding her around the ranch like she's already mine. And fuck, I want her to be.

"The horses look happy," she says, nodding toward where Thunder and Stormy graze peacefully in the evening light.

"They are." My thumb moves in small circles against her spine. I can feel her heat through the thin cotton of her sundress. "Simple needs. Food, water, space to run. Easy to keep horses happy."

Unlike women. Unlike nineteen-year-old runaways with haunted eyes and bodies made for sin.

Since that kiss, everything's shifted between us. The tension that was already thick enough to cut with a knife has become something else. Something inevitable. She watches me constantly now, those hazel eyes tracking my movements around the house, the barn, the yard. And I watch her right back. Neither of us mentioning what happened, both of us waiting for the other to break first.

"You ever miss the rodeo circuit?" she asks, looking up at me. The fading sunlight catches her eyes, turning them almost golden. "You must've traveled a lot."

I shrug. "Sometimes. Mostly I'm glad to be settled. Have my own place." My fingers spread wider against her back, nearly spanning from one side to the other. She's so damn small. "You thinking about running again?"

The question slips out before I can stop it. Been on my mind since she showed up. When she'll leave. If she'll leave. How I'll stop her if she tries.

She looks startled. "No. I…I like it here."

Relief washes through me, stronger than it should be. "Good."

We stand in silence for a moment, watching the sun sink lower. The temperature's dropping, but I don't suggest going back to the house. Don't want this moment to end. Her leaning slightly into my touch. My hand possessively splayed across her back. The world narrowed down to just the two of us.

"Wayne?" she says, voice soft.

"Hmm?"

"Why did you kiss me?"

The directness of the question catches me off guard. I look down at her, finding those wide eyes studying me intently. No point lying. No point pretending anymore.

"Because I've wanted to since the second I saw you," I say, voice rough with honesty. "Because you were sitting there in my guest bed, looking scared and beautiful, and I couldn't stop myself."