Page 118 of For Cowgirls and Kings

Mateo on the other hand, doesn’t even blink. His eyes rove over my face, my head—like he’s counting each hair on my head to make sure I’m still safe—and then venture south. With each inch they drop, my skin ignites and I realize what I’m wearing.

Or not, wearing, I should say.I yelp, trying to cover my naked bottom half, the T-shirt I borrowed from Stetson falling right at my waist.

“Uh, I—” I stammer, my face flaming. Mateo growls, stomping towards me, ripping the buttons off his shirt, and wrapping it around my waist in the same movement. It leaves meutterly breathless, and when I do finally find my ability to breathe again, my lungs are filled with the potent scent of him.

I try not to stare at his very hard, and very bronzed chest now only inches from my face, the small black hairs dusting his pecks curly and soft. I ache to run my hand over him, to pull him to me like I would have only three short days ago.Is that truly how long he’s been gone, only three days?

“Are we finally having that orgy I dreamed about?” Stetson asks, her voice falling from the stairwell behind us. It’s Gus’s turn to growl, stomping for her and grabbing her hand before she even has a chance to get to the bottom step.

She’s not showing a ton yet, but in her mumu, it’s obvious. The soft fabric melts over her skin—her bump, small but mighty, sticks out farther. And to Gus’s frustration, so do her pert but round breasts.

I snort, surprised in the best way that she was so witty with that one. It feels like something I would say.

“Nice tits.” I decide to go with instead, which only makes Gus snarl more. He flashes me a vicious grin, and I flash one back. His eyes widen a fraction, as if surprised.

“You did see her pussy,” Mateo states dryly, and I whirl on him, my hand connecting with his arm.

“Gus! How could you?” Stetson screeches, all teasing. Gus looks up at her, his face growing redder by the second.

“Fuck! It’s like six in the morning. And for the record, I didn’t. I fucking looked away. It’s notmyfault she walked intomykitchen butt-ass naked.”

“I don’t know, I’m pretty sure you were checking—” I start.

“Dale.”

I turn wide eyes on Mateo, the authority in it making my pussy clinch. Fuck, I’ve missed him. His face, his teasing, his dominance, his mouth, his affection,his dick.

“Get your woman on aleash,” Gus huffs.

“Gus!” Stetson snaps, her own hand connecting with his bicep.

“So much for coming in quietly,” Mateo huffs, the words quiet enough that only I’ll hear them. He leans his hip against the counter, his hand never leaving its grip on the shirt around my waist. “Always making a scene aren’t you, cowgirl? Naughty girl.”

Naughty girl—the two words race down my spine and goose bumps erupt in their wake. I don’t miss the way his nostrils flare or his eyes dilate. Like he can smell the arousal slickening the inside of my thighs at those words.We have so much unsaid between us, and yet being around him feels as natural as breathing.

But then he blinks and I’m reminded about how tired he looked when he got out of the truck. And up this close, it’s worse. His face is covered in a thicker stubble, unkept and grown out. The bags under his eyes are purple, and sag, big enough to pack a week long trip in, and the whites of his eyes are lined in red.

He looks so exhausted I’m questioning if the hip on the counter is for relaxation, or because he physically can’t stay upright.

And he just drove here in the middle of the night.

That thought alone fills me with fury—how could he risk himself like that? Why isn’t he taking better care of himself? So many people need him.

I need him.

“Why are you here so early?”

His brows pinch together in confusion, the fire in my voice clearly throwing him off. “I couldn’t sleep.”

“Yeah, and when was the last time you slept?” He sighs, like I’m being an annoying mother hen and it only pisses me off more. “You need to take care of yourself, Mateo. People relyon you.”

His eyes flicker with anger, but it quickly sputters out, like he’s just too tired to care. And I want to rage.

Before I can blow a fucking gasket, Gus clears his throat, and we both look towards him. His brows raised, mustache twitching to the side.

“You do look like shit. Why don’t you go sleep, and discuss—” He waves his hand in the air, indicating the tension that’s all but a living, breathing thing pulsing between Mateo and I. “And then you can figure out what’s next.”

Mateo nods, his head hanging as if it’s too heavy to hold up. And then he turns, moving toward the room at the end of the hall I’ve been staying in, his grip on the shirt around my waist still tight, tugging me along. I move behind him, pausing only to look over my shoulder.