Page 148 of Saltwater Cowboy

In the way he carried himself.

In the way he carried everyone else.

He hovered over me again, his hands bracketing my waist, his eyes searching mine. “Tell me to stop, Rose.”

I shook my head. “I won’t.”

His jaw clenched, and for a moment, I thought he might argue. But then, his mouth was on mine, stealing my breath, his hands sliding beneath the hem of my shirt, his touch setting fire to my skin.

I’d never felt like this before, like every nerve in my body was awake, like every piece of me had been waiting for this. For him.

“Wells,” I murmured, not even sure what I wanted to say.

He pressed his forehead against mine, his breath warm and uneven. “Yeah?”

I opened my mouth, but the words tangled on my tongue. Instead, I let my hands speak for me—skimming over his shoulders, down his chest, holding onto him like I was afraid he’d slip away.

He exhaled sharply, like my touch unraveled something in him. “You’re dangerous, you know that?”

A small smile played on my lips. “Me?”

His fingers ghosted over my ribs, making my breath hitch. “You’re gonna ruin me.”

I let my lips graze his in a teasing whisper of a kiss. “Good.”

And then, there was no more hesitation.

No more space between us.

Only Wells, only warmth, only the quiet hum of something undeniable pulling us closer.

And I had no plans to stop it.

Wells kissed me like he was trying to brand the moment into his memory. His hands were warm and sure as they traced over me, fingers skimming beneath my shirt, mapping the curve of my waist, the dip of my spine.

I arched into him, craving the feeling of his skin against mine, of nothing between us but heat and breath and want.

His body pressed into mine, and my legs instinctively wrapped around his hips. When I arched to meet him, I felt exactly how hard he was under those sweatpants.

“Fuck,” he groaned, grinding against me just enough to make my breath stutter. “You feel so damn good.”

I gasped as he flipped us effortlessly, settling me on top of him. His hands roamed over my thighs, up my hips, his grip firm as he guided me against him, our bodies moving together in slow, intoxicating friction.

“You drive me crazy,” he murmured, his voice thick with need.

I leaned down, kissing him deep, drinking in the way he groaned against my lips when I rolled my hips against him again. His hands slid under my shirt, pushing it up, and I let him pull it over my head, tossing it somewhere in the room.

His gaze darkened as he took me in, his thumb brushing over my hard nipples. “Perfect,” he murmured, before flipping me onto my back again, his mouth trailing fire down my body. “Absolute perfection.”

I gasped when he kissed the valley between my breasts, his tongue flicking out just enough to make me arch into him. His hands worked at the waistband of my pajama shorts, and with one lingering glance at me, he pulled them down, along with my underwear, leaving me bare beneath him.

Wells paused, his eyes raking over me, a muscle ticking in his jaw. “Goddamn, Rose.”

Heat pooled low in my stomach at the way he looked at me, like he was barely holding himself back. I reached for him, tugging at the waistband of his sweats, wanting him just as bare as I was.

He let out a low, ragged breath as he kicked them off, and then there was nothing between us but heat and want and need.

He sprung to life and I knew I was in for a really fun ride.