Page 20 of Knot Your Problem, Cowboy (Wild Hearts Ranch #1)

“You did,” he growls. “And I fucking loved it. So did you.”

I hate that he’s right.

His mouth crashes into mine again, harder this time. “Be quiet for me, baby,” he whispers against my collarbone. “Just feel.”

His breath is hot against my throat. Then lower. Lower still. And he’s sinking to his knees before me, his hands already sliding up my thighs. And in moments, he’s dragging my panties down slowly as he looks up at me like I’m the only thing that’s ever mattered. I step out of them.

“I need to taste you properly. Is that okay?” he asks gently.

I swallow hard and nod, having forgotten how to speak.

He fists the hem of my dress and pushes it up, baring me inch by inch until the cool air hits the inferno between my legs.

I’m trembling already. No underwear. Nothing to hide me.

And God, I want to hide, but I don’t. I widen my stance instead, shaky but willing, because if he doesn’t touch me soon, I might fall apart on my own.

He exhales. “Fuck me. Look at you.”

His thumbs stroke over the crease where my thighs meet my lips, spreading me open just enough to expose the mess he’s made of me. I can’t even look down; I’m too close to combusting.

“You’re so damn pretty,” he murmurs, more to himself than to me. “All pink and glistening like you were made for me. You want my mouth here, darlin’?”

“You have no idea,” I manage.

He chuckles, dark and satisfied. “Good girl.”

And then his tongue is on me, slow and deliberate, licking through my folds like he’s savoring every inch. My hips jerk, a whimper slipping past my lips as he drags the flat of his tongue over my clit, then back down, teasing, tasting, claiming.

“Mmm,” he groans against me. “Fuckin’ soaked. Sweetest damn thing I’ve ever had on my tongue.”

His grip tightens as he spreads me further, tongue circling, flicking, then diving deep. I bite down on my lower lip again, knees going soft, body lighting up in waves that crest too fast to process.

Suddenly, two thick fingers push into me, fast and sure, filling me to the hilt. I nearly cry out, back arching against the wall as he curls them just right, dragging across that spot that has my vision going white.

“That’s it,” he murmurs. “Take it. Let me feel how bad you need it.”

The stretch, the fullness—it’s too much and not enough all at once.

He keeps working me with his mouth, tongue flicking my clit while his fingers pump slow and deep. I try to hold still, but I’m trembling, grinding into every stroke like I’ve lost control of my own body. Because I have.

I’m gone.

Just a slick, gasping girl pinned against the wall with a man between her legs who knows exactly how to bring her to her knees.

A moan escapes me even though I’ve been trying to be quiet and not draw attention to us in the dressing room.

Too loud.

He pulls his mouth away, just barely, and looks up through heavy lashes, fingers still buried deep inside me.

“You’re bein’ too noisy,” he murmurs. “Don’t want those salesgirls hearing how wet you get for me, do you?”

I shake my head, hardly able to breathe.

He withdraws his fingers slowly, soaked and glistening, and brings them to my lips. “Bite down on these.”

My breath catches, but I part my lips without question. His fingers press past, sliding over my tongue, and I moan before I even realize I’ve made a sound.

The taste is heady. Sharp with arousal, rich and earthy beneath it. My scent is strong, impossible to ignore, but there’s something unexpectedly sweet layered in, like dark vanilla left too long in the sun. It coats my tongue, addictive, like something forbidden I shouldn’t crave.

But I do.

My cheeks flush hot as I suck around his fingers, my own flavor mingling with the salt of his skin. I shouldn’t find this hot. I shouldn’t be so turned on by tasting myself from his hand.

But I’m drenched. Burning. Hungry for more.

And the low, filthy groan he makes when he sees me suck harder?

That sound alone nearly tips me over the edge again.

And then he’s back on me, tongue rough and relentless as he sucks my clit into his mouth, hard. I gently bite down, just like he told me to, barely muffling the scream that rips from my throat as my orgasm detonates like a firestorm.

I convulse.

Every muscle locks and then breaks loose. I shake violently, legs threatening to give, and he doesn’t stop. Doesn’t even pause. He licks me through it, holding me up with his hand on my thigh, his tongue claiming every last pulse and tremor until I’m wrecked.

Completely destroyed.

My head falls back against the mirror with a soft thud, breath coming in broken gasps, and I swear my soul might’ve left my body.

But he’s still there, between my thighs, licking over the seam of my pussy lips, eyes wild with something raw and possessive.

“Sweetest damn thing I’ve ever devoured,” he whispers.

Then he slowly rises from where he’s kneeling, a man in no rush to let go of what just passed between us. He merely stares at me. Then his hands cradle my jaw, tilting my face up as his mouth descends.

His kiss is deep. Devouring. His lips seal over mine with a hunger that melts every bone in my body. There’s no softness now, no hesitance, just possession and the kind of need that makes you forget your own name .

When he finally pulls back, breath ragged, I’m trembling again for an entirely different reason.

“That was…” I swallow, voice catching. “That was incredible.”

A slow smile curls his lips. “I don’t do halfway, darlin’.”

But the high starts to slip. Doubt creeps in at the edges of my mind, fast and sharp and unwelcome.

“It might’ve been a mistake,” I whisper. The words feel like sandpaper in my throat.

Walker doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t look away. “I don’t think so,” he states. “When you find your scent match, you claim her. And if she’s not ready to be claimed…” His thumb brushes my bottom lip. “Then I wait. For as long as you need.”

“God,” I breathe, stepping back, heart jackhammering. “Why do you have to be so… you? So perfect. So damn sexy. So everything.”

A flicker of darkness passes through his gaze.

“We have time to deal with this stuff later, right?” I joke, but it comes out thin.

Walker doesn’t laugh. He sees too much. Feels too much.

I look away. “Well, I’d better get changed.”

My hands fumble to pull my dress back down, heat flushing my face. I grab my underwear off the floor and fist it in my palm. “I just need to go to the bathroom real quick,” I mumble, already turning.

“I’ll pay for the clothes,” he says. “All of ’em. You just breathe.” His voice follows me as I slip past the curtain.

In the bathroom, I lock the door and sag against it, pulse still racing, body still slick and aching. But now the rush is giving way to something cold.

What if I’ve opened Pandora’s box?

I should’ve kept pretending. Pretending that I felt nothing. That the chemistry was one-sided. That I could control this.

Because what if it all falls apart?

What if I don’t belong here, on the ranch, in this town, with them?

What if I want to leave?

What if the other two don’t want me? What if I’m the Omega that breaks their pack instead of binding it?

Nolan was caring at first too. Attentive. Kind. Until I bonded with him… and eventually he stopped touching me. Stopped even looking at me. Wouldn’t help me through my heat. Not even once.

I had to pay strangers at a clinic to get me through it. Had to sign a waiver. Had to lie and say I was fine.

My stomach twists, the weight of everything crashing down.

I need tonight. I need June. I need alcohol, loud music, and food.

I need a night where I don’t feel like I’m standing on the edge of a cliff, begging not to fall.

And maybe… I need to fall anyway. Just not tonight.