Page 16 of Promised Cowboy

I want her ruined for anyone else.

Her jeans are next. I unbutton them while she works on mine, our fingers brushing, tugging, trembling slightly. There’s a heartbeat of silence when we’re both bare, nothing between us but breath and want.

I look down at her, sprawled out across my sheets, flushed and waiting.

“You’re beautiful,” I say, voice rougher than I mean it to be.

Lacey reaches up, dragging her fingertips across my jaw.

“Then take me,” she whispers. “I don’t want slow tonight. I want you.”

And she has me.

Completely.

I slide between her thighs, guiding myself with one hand, and when I sink into her, we both go still.

She’s warm and tight and perfect. The sound she makes when I press all the way in is wrecked and needy, and it damn near undoes me.

I brace my forearms on either side of her and move.

Slow at first — deep, steady strokes — letting her feel every inch, watching her eyes flutter closed, then snap back open when I roll my hips just right. She clings to me, legs locking tighter around my waist, hips rising to meet every thrust.

“God, Colton…” she moans.

My name in her voice is like fuel.

I kiss her again, harder now, our bodies locked together and moving in rhythm. Her nails scrape down my back. Her breath comes in shallow gasps.

“You feel so good,” I groan against her mouth. “You were made for this. For me.”

She cries out softly when I angle my hips just right, and I feel her start to shake.

“Don’t hold back,” I say.

“I’m not— I can’t—”

Her body clenches around me, and she breaks apart with a sharp cry, clutching at my shoulders like she’s afraid to fall. I watch every second of it — the way her lips part, the way her eyes lose focus, the way her whole body arches beneath mine like she’s flying.

It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

I chase her over the edge, driving into her harder now, faster, the heat in my spine finally snapping. I come with a growl, buried deep inside her, every nerve in my body white-hot and sparking.

We collapse together, limbs tangled, bodies slick with sweat and rain.

My chest rises and falls against hers, and her fingers trace lazy patterns along my back. She’s still catching her breath, lips parted, eyes closed.

I kiss her temple.

She doesn’t move away.

Whatever this is — whatever just happened between us — it wasn’t casual.

She came here knowing what she wanted.

And now she’s here. In my bed. In my arms.

Where she belongs.