Page 11 of Dirty Sweet Cowboy

Her lips part slightly. She doesn't look away.

"Why did you stop?" she asks, bolder now.

Jesus. This girl. She'll be the death of me.

"Because if I hadn't," I say slowly, deliberately, "I wouldn't have stopped at all."

Color floods her cheeks, but still she holds my gaze. The courage in that small act pulls something loose in my chest.

Fuck it. Cards on the table.

"Can't get you out of my head, angel." I turn to face her fully, my hand sliding from her back to her hip, anchoring her in place. "Been hard for you since you stepped foot here."

Her eyes widen, pupils dilating in the fading light. She doesn't pull away. Doesn't look disgusted or frightened. Instead, there's trust in her expression. Need. Maybe even relief.

"Every morning I wake up thinking about you," I continue, the confession pouring out now that I've started. "Every night I go to sleep with your face in my mind. It's driving me fucking crazy, having you so close and not being able to touch you the way I want to."

"How..." Her voice is barely above a whisper. She swallows, tries again. "How do you want to touch me?"

Christ. The innocence in the question makes my cock twitch behind my zipper.

"Every way there is," I admit, my other hand coming up to cup her cheek. My thumb traces her lower lip, still plump from where I'd sucked on it during our kiss. "Want to put my hands and mouth on every inch of you. Want to make you come so many times you forget your own name. Want to be inside you, filling you up, making you mine."

She trembles beneath my touch, but not with fear. Her lips part under the pressure of my thumb, and the wet heat of her mouth brushes against my skin. My cock hardens instantly, pressing painfully against denim.

"I've never..." she starts, then stops, embarrassed.

"I know," I say gently, though the knowledge makes my balls tighten. She's untouched. Pure. And I'm going to ruin her for anyone else. "We don't have to rush anything."

The lie tastes bitter on my tongue. I want to rush everything. Want to carry her back to the house right now, spread her out on my bed, and spend hours taking her apart with my fingers and tongue before I finally slide my cock inside her tight heat.

But I'll wait. Take it slow. Show her how good it can be between us.

"I think about you too," she confesses, eyes dropping shyly to my chest before rising again to meet mine. "All the time. It's…confusing."

"What's confusing about it?" I ask, thumb still tracing the outline of her lips, mesmerized by their softness.

"I shouldn't want this," she says. "Want you. You're…and I'm..."

"I'm too old for you," I finish for her. "You're too young for me. I'm offering you shelter and protection, and I shouldn't be thinking about bending you over every surface in my house."

She gasps slightly at the crude honesty, but there's heat in her eyes. Desire.

"Yes," she agrees. "All of that."

"And yet here we are." I step closer, eliminating the last bit of space between us. Her body is a line of heat against mine, soft curves fitting perfectly against my harder angles. "Both of us wanting something we probably shouldn't."

The sun has nearly disappeared now, casting us in twilight shadows. Her face is tilted up to mine, lips slightly parted, eyes wide and trusting. Wanting. Waiting.

"So what do we do?" she asks.

"Whatever feels right," I say, bending to brush my lips across her forehead. Not the kiss she's expecting, but a promise of more to come. "No rush, angel. We have time."

The sky darkens around us as the last sliver of sun disappears behind the mountains. Stars begin to appear, one by one, in the deepening blue. My hand remains on her hip, possessive, claiming. The other still cups her cheek, thumb tracing patterns on her skin.

"We should head back," I say reluctantly. "Getting cold."

She nods but makes no move to step away. Neither do I. We stand there, locked together in the growing darkness, both aware that we've crossed a line. That there's no going back now.