Page 37 of Owned By The Cowboy

The sweet request is such a complete one-eighty from my current train of thought that I almost laugh out loud. “Sure thing, baby. Let’s make cookies.”

As we head to the kitchen, my phone buzzes one more time.

Blayne:Can’t wait for tonight.

Yeah. Me neither.

Twelve

Blayne

The second we’re alone in Reggie’s sewing room, the air gets thick as hell. I’ve been fighting the urge to touch her for the past hour, watching her move around her kitchen, laugh at the crazy stuff the kids say, be this amazing mom who makes my chest fill with warmth.

Now she’s standing three feet away, and all I can think about is how she looked spread out in my bed this morning.

“So,” Regina starts, and her voice sounds a little breathless. “Your suit.”

“Right. My suit.”

I hang the garment bag where she points and start unbuttoning my shirt. When I look up, she’s staring at my hands like they’re doing something way more interesting than working buttons.

“You know,” I say, pulling the shirt off, “I’m starting to think you just wanna get your hands on me.”

“What makes you say that?” Her eyes are glued to my body, taking their sweet time.

“Call it a hunch.”

“I’m being professional.”

“Sure you are.”

I shrug into the suit jacket, and she steps closer with the measuring tape. This close, I can smell whatever shampoo she uses, and it makes me want to bury my face in her hair and stay there.

“Arms up,” she instructs, all business.

I raise my arms, and she runs the tape around my chest. Her fingers keep brushing my skin, and I’m about two seconds from saying, fuck the alterations.

“How does it feel?” she asks.

“Like hell.”

“The jacket, Blayne.”

“I know what you meant.”

Reggie steps back to check what she’s measuring, and I catch her looking at my mouth. Again.

“The shoulders are perfect,” she announces. “The length is good. The waist needs to come in a little.”

“Whatever you think.”

She moves behind me, smoothing her hands down the back of the jacket. When her fingers brush my neck, I nearly lose my mind.

“Reggie…”

“What?”

“You know what.”