Page 44 of For Cowgirls and Kings (The Trauma Bonded #2)

THIRTY-FIVE

MATEO

Dale seems better, and yet not. Some minutes I see a small beam of light shining in her face, like a promise of a new beginning. And the next— darkness , like she’s trapped and doesn’t know a way out.

I want to be with her, hold her, worship her, but I don’t want to push her too hard too fast either.

I’ve been waiting not so patiently for two weeks for Dale to make a move—show me she’s not only ready to start living a little, but that she wants me.

Because fuck, I want her. It’s all I can think about.

Part of me thought she’d stay in my bed after that first night, but when I woke up, she was gone from my room, and hasn’t been back since.

Maybe I didn’t make my intentions clear.

Or maybe it wasn’t as good for her as it was for me.

Either way, I’m beyond desperate to have her touch me again, and I know I’ll do just about anything to make it happen.

My phone buzzes and I pull it out of my pocket. Gus’s name flashes across the screen and I open it without hesitation—we’re still not talking much and he’s never been one to text.

GUS: She ok ?

I smirk at the words—I wonder if Stetson is standing behind him forcing him to send the text.

ME: Sometimes.

GUS: Are you doing anything to help her besides panting after her?

ME: It worked for you, didn’t it?

GUS: Fuck you.

ME: So we’re in the kiss and make up part of this fight?

I can’t help the goonish smile ripping across my face as I wait for his reply, the bubbles popping up and disappearing twice before the text comes through.

GUS: No.

GUS: Hurt her and I’ll kill you.

ME: Thanks for the pep talk mom, I got it covered.

GUS: Any news on the third guy?

I pause, chewing on my lip. Knowing two of the guys are gone gives me some peace, and I think it does for Dale too. But the knowledge of the still missing third man keeps me up at night, and apparently, Gus.

I suck in a deep breath—I should have protected her better, I should have stopped this all from happening.

I still need to figure out what Valentina had to do with everything.

She won’t answer my calls, and I can’t tear myself away from Dale long enough to hunt her down and ask the questions I’m almost too afraid to know the answers to. What did she do ?

The sound of heels clacking against the wooden stairs fills the entry way and I fire off a quick reply.

ME: Nothing yet.

I glance up, the oxygen all but wheezing from my lungs.

Fuck, she’s a Goddess.

She hasn’t noticed me looking at her yet, too busy watching her feet as she descends the stairs—she looks nervous and self-conscious and I hate that she doesn’t feel the power she has over everyone and everything in her life. Anyone would do anything for her, she just needs to see that.

With her eyes averted, I drink in her gorgeous features like a thirsty man in a desert.

She’s in a short black leather skirt, a flowy plum top tucked into the waistband.

It’s slightly sheer and I can see the black lacy bra beneath it, barely containing the perfect swells of her heavy breasts.

Black knee high cowboy boots, simple black stitching running up the fronts, cover her feet and tanned calves.

Her silky hair is loose, billowing like an onyx curtain behind her, and for the first time in weeks dark makeup covers her face.

She looks like she did before all of this happened. Only different—better, braver, stronger somehow.

It nearly knocks me to my fucking knees.

She clears her throat, and I trace my eyes back up her body, not even attempting to hide that I was busy checking her out— and that I’m near feral for what I see.

“You didn’t say where we were going or what we were doing. Is this okay? I can go change, it would only take?—”

I step toward her, extending my hand out in an effort to cut off her nervous rambling.

“You look perfect,” I state. She glances down, before hesitantly sliding hers into my waiting grip.

The touch sends flames licking up my arm, but I don’t waver, not even for a second.

I’ll gladly burn alive if she’ll just keep touching me.

Fuck, maybe going out is the wrong move here. Maybe I should just bend her over and see if her panties match that insanely sexy bra.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” She sounds a little breathless, and it goes straight to my cock like a bolt of lightning, my balls drawing up.

“Like what?” I ask nonchalantly, mixing the words as I clear my throat of the lump forming there. I peek a glance at her face, which is now flushing the prettiest pink, her dark eyebrow raised toward her hairline.

“Like I’m leading you over a bed of coals on a leash.”

I have to look away as that very vivid, very errotic description flashes in my head. Because if she sees my face, she’s only going to see a hungry desire for her to do just that . Anything to make her see me, claim me, make me hers.

In an attempt to deflect, I open my stupid mouth saying the first thing that pops into my mind, “That doesn’t sound like something a friend would do.”

Her grip tightens a fraction around my fingers, before she starts to pull them away. Why the fuck did I use the “f” word when every time she does I see red? I’m sending mixed signals, and even I’m getting fucking confused now.

I interlace our fingers before she can retreat completely, and sling my jacket over my shoulder, pulling her to the entrance. There’s no good come back for my stupid words, so I remain silent—but unwilling to drop her hand.

She tugs a little on my grip but I ignore her, sliding my sunglasses on instead.

“Where are we going?” she hisses, stumbling along behind me.

“Out. What’s the point of being a rich asshole if I can’t take advantage of it sometimes? I want to show you my world.”

“You mean the thousand acre ranch with the biggest, most immaculate horse barns and enormous house isn’t your world? What? Is this your vacation estate, your highness?”

I spin on my heel, an unrestrained smirk tipping my lips.

She stumbles, looking up at me surprised, her warm brown eyes wide.

“You might see me as a king, but my power isn’t even a match compared to the torch you wield.

If you’re jealous—if you want this place or any other—all you have to do is ask Dale.

I might be a king, but you’re a fucking goddess. ”

She sputters, her face growing more red with each word, and I smile widely at her. Without waiting for a response I continue to lead her to where my Black Dodge dually is parked in the driveway, freshly washed and shining.

“You know what they say about guys who drive big trucks right?” she huffs, clambering into the truck.

She struggles a second, trying to hoist herself up—I’m tempted to watch her struggle for as long as she feels like being stubborn—the view from here is an incredible, one of her ass, all round and firm.

But the itch to touch her is greater.

Gripping her hips, I lift her into the seat. She swats at my hands, but I see the stain pinking her neck again; she likes it, likes me touching her but she’s playing hard to get.

Noted.

Before I release her, I lean in, my mouth only inches from her neck. “Yeah, well, you can tell them you know from experience that I’m not one of those typical guys. Can’t you, cowgirl? Or do you need a re-ride?”

Please need a re-ride. Tell me to fuck this plan and take me in the house and fuck me.

“Easy big guy—” she purrs, the vibrations ricocheting through my hyper aware body. “This cowgirl doesn’t fuck her friends .” I still at that, a growl ripping from my chest.

I know I said it first, and I want to fucking bash my own head in for it. Why? I’m putting myself if the fucking friendzone.

I just can’t imagine a girl like her wanting a man like me for anything more than a solid friendship and an occasional fuck if I’m lucky. But I’d do anything for more.

I need to start acting like it. Gus’s words flash through my mind: “And when I finally got her? I sure as fuck never let her question how much I needed her. I’d cut my own heart out before making her feel for a second like it wasn’t hers.”

“She has, and she will again,” I whisper, my words laced with promise. I step back, the door swinging shut and I hear her chuckle.

“Keep dreaming, your highness.”

I won’t be dreaming about it. Not again tonight.

Tonight I’ll make her demand to fuck me.

“I don’t need to go into another store, Mateo. You’ve already bought me a new wardrobe, which by the way, I’m not returning even if we do stop being friends. They’re beautiful clothes, and I’m selfish like that.”

I snort, nodding along, pulling open another store door, the bell above it chiming. She squints up at me as she passes by, but walks on in, just like I knew she wanted to.

She pretends like she doesn’t want more, doesn’t need or deserve the best of life, but she’s fucking wrong. I’m going to give her everything, one fucking store at a time.

I’ve never had anyone to spoil, just to see them smile. Everyone’s always wanted something from me—Dale wants nothing but my company. And something about that makes me want to buy her everything.

I’m not good at words, doesn’t mean I don’t want to be. I’m old fashioned; the guy does some grand gesture to win the girl. But with Dale I don’t know where to start. I just want her to smile, and to be the reason that twinkle returns to her eyes.

I don’t even get through the doorway before I hear her squealing. I knew a day in downtown Fort Worth, surrounded by the things she loves most—turquoise jewelry, cowboy boots, and booze—would do good for her heart.

And fuck, I love being right.