Page 16 of My Cowboy Trouble (The Cowboy Romantic Comedies #1)

"Just okay?"

"Shut up and do it already."

So I do. And it's nothing like the desperate group kisses from the other night. This is just us, just me and her, and somehow that makes it more intense. She tastes like coffee and determination, and when she opens for me, I groan into her mouth.

"Hayloft," she gasps when we break apart. "Now."

"Bossy."

"You love it."

I do. I really fucking do.

We practically slide down the ladder, the other guys taking no notice of us, and the second we hit the hayloft, she's on me. Hands in my hair, mouth on my neck, body pressed against mine like she's trying to crawl inside my skin.

"Someone's eager," I tease, but my hands are already under her tank top, finding all that soft skin I've been thinking about.

"Shut up. I've been wanting this… since you caught me just now. "

"Just since then? Princess, I've been wanting this since you locked your door last night. Do you know how hard it was to walk away?"

"Probably about as hard as you are right now," she says, her hand sliding down to cup me through my jeans.

"Fuck, Kenzie."

"That's the idea."

She pulls her tank top off in one smooth motion, and I forget how to speak. The afternoon sun streaming through the loft windows makes her skin glow. There are still faint marks from the other night—a bruise on her hip, a bite mark on her shoulder—and something primal in me wants to add more.

"You're staring," she says, working on my belt.

"You're gorgeous."

"You're still staring."

"I'm memorizing." I pull her against me, skin to skin. "Twenty-two days isn't enough time."

"Don't." She puts a finger to my lips. "Don't make this about leaving. Make it about right now."

So I do. I focus on right now—on the way she gasps when I kiss that spot just below her ear, the way her back arches when my hands find her breasts, the way she says my name like it's a blessing and a curse all at once.

"I want you," she breathes against my mouth. "Just you, right now. Is that okay? "

"More than okay." I back her against a hay bale, lifting her onto it. "It's fucking perfect."

Her jeans are impossibly tight, and we both laugh as I struggle to peel them off.

"Damn city girl jeans," I mutter.

"You love these jeans."

"I love what's in them more."

Finally, we're both naked, and I take a moment just to look at her. Hair wild, lips swollen, skin flushed with want. She's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.

"Gavin." She reaches for me. "Please."

"Please what?"

"Don't make me beg."

"Would you? Beg for me?"

She pulls me down for a kiss that's all teeth and tongue and desperation. "Please, Gavin. I need you inside me. Now."

"Fuck, princess. When you ask like that..."

I slide into her in one smooth thrust, and we both groan. She's perfect—hot and wet and so fucking tight, I have to stop for a second or this is going to be over embarrassingly fast.

"You okay?" I ask, pressing my forehead to hers.

"Better than okay." She rolls her hips, taking me deeper. "Move, cowboy."

So I move. Slow at first, savoring every gasp and moan, then faster when she wraps her legs around me and demands more. The hay bale creaks with every thrust, and there's probably straw in places straw shouldn't be, but neither of us cares.

"Harder," she demands, her nails raking down my back. "I want to feel you tomorrow."

"Jesus, Kenzie." I give her what she wants, what we both want, until she's crying out my name and tightening around me like a vise.

"That's it, princess. Let me feel you come."

And she does beautifully, taking me with her. I bury my face in her neck, breathing her in as the world explodes into stars.

We stay like that for a moment, tangled together, breathing hard. Then she starts laughing.

"What?" I pull back to look at her.

"I have straw in my ass."

"Occupational hazard of hayloft sex."

"You could have warned me."

"Where's the fun in that?" I help her sit up, brushing straw from her skin. "Besides, you didn't seem to mind thirty seconds ago."

"Thirty seconds ago, I wasn't thinking about anything except—" She stops, blushing.

"Except?"

"Except how good you feel."

"Just good?"

"Fishing for compliments?"

"Always."

She kisses me, soft and sweet this time. "Amazing. You feel amazing. Happy? "

"Ecstatic."

We get dressed slowly, stealing kisses and touches. Her tank top is inside out, and there's hay in her hair, but she looks thoroughly satisfied.

"We should get back," she says, not moving.

"We should."

"The others will wonder where we are."

"Let them wonder."

"Gavin."

"Fine." I pull her against me for one more kiss. "But this isn't over."

"I know."

"I mean it. I want more of this. More of you."

She looks up at me, something vulnerable in her eyes. "Me too."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. God help me, but yeah."

By the time we make it back to the roof, Trent and Asher have finished their section and are checking us out with knowing looks.

"Productive break?" Asher asks, pulling a piece of straw from Kenzie's hair.

"We were checking the structural integrity of the hayloft," I say with a straight face.

"Is that what we're calling it?" Trent's trying to look stern, but I can see him fighting a smile .

"Very important work," Kenzie adds, her face bright red. "Safety first."

"Right. Safety." Asher grins. "That's why you're both covered in hay and looking thoroughly... safe."

"Jealous?" I ask.

"Maybe a little," he admits, his eyes on Kenzie. "My turn next?"

"There are no turns," she protests. "This isn't a carnival ride."

"Could be," I suggest, and she smacks my arm.

We finish patching the roof just as the sun starts to set, painting everything gold. Kenzie's sitting on the edge, legs dangling, looking out over the ranch like she owns it. Which, technically, she does.

"Yoo-hoo!"

Clara Mae's truck pulls up, and she climbs out carrying what looks like enough pie to feed an army.

"Brought sustenance for the hardworking men!" she calls up. Then she spots Kenzie. "And lady! Look at you up there like a regular ranch hand!"

"Just helping out," Kenzie calls down.

"Uh-huh." Clara Mae's eyes narrow as she takes in the scene—Kenzie's mussed hair, my scratch marks that are definitely visible, the way we're sitting just a little too close. "Helping. Right. That's what the kids are calling it these days?"

"We fixed the roof," Trent says, climbing down the ladder.

"I can see that. Fixed the roof and maybe a few other things?" She winks at Kenzie. "Good for you, honey. These boys need someone to keep them in line."

"I'm not—we didn't?—"

"Save it for someone who didn't see Gavin's truck parked by the creek last week when you were supposedly 'checking fences.'" She sets the pies on the tailgate. "Apple, cherry, and pecan. Eat up. You've all clearly worked up an appetite."

She drives off cackling, leaving us with three pies and the distinct feeling that the entire town's going to know about this by morning.

"Well," Asher says, grabbing the apple pie. "That's going to be fun to explain."

"Nothing to explain," I say, wrapping an arm around Kenzie's shoulders. "We're all adults here."

"Adults who are going to be the talk of the town," Trent points out.

"Let them talk." I look down at Kenzie. "Worth it."

She looks up at me, then at Asher and Trent, and something passes between all of us. An understanding, maybe. Or just acceptance that whatever this is, we're all in it now.

"Pie?" she offers, holding up the cherry.

"Always," Trent says, and for once, he's actually smiling .

We sit on the tailgate, eating pie out of the tin and watching the sun set, when I realize something that scares the shit out of me.

I'm not just in trouble. I'm falling for her. Hard.

Twenty-something days isn't going to be nearly enough.

But it's what we've got, so I'm going to make every single one count.

Starting with tonight, if that lock on her door mysteriously stops working. Or gets unlocked.

"Stop plotting," Kenzie says, nudging me with her shoulder.

"I'm not plotting."

"Your evil grin says otherwise."

"This is my innocent grin."

"You don't have an innocent grin."

"Fair point." I steal a bite of her pie. "But my plots are fun."

"That's what I'm afraid of," she mutters, but she's smiling.

Yeah, I'm in trouble. The best kind of trouble.

And I wouldn't change a thing.