Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 44134 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 221(@200wpm)___ 177(@250wpm)___ 147(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 44134 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 221(@200wpm)___ 177(@250wpm)___ 147(@300wpm)
“Keep going,” I tell him when the burn fades. It’s starting to feel...good. So good down there.
The soft smile he gives me is filled with tenderness. “I’m not rushing the most perfect thing that’s ever happened to me.”
I whine his name as he slowly thrusts in and out. He keeps his thrusts measured and controlled. He’s still cupping my face, his expression filled with so much affection.
With every movement, every hot glide of friction, my body opens to his a little more until he slowly sinks all the way in. There’s no pain, only delightful pleasure.
“You were made for me,” he breathes.
My hands are roaming, touching him everywhere. I trace the planes of his body through his shirt, wishing he’d taken it off. If we do this again, I’m going to insist on getting to see the full picture so I can appreciate every detail of my cowboy.
He reaches for my clit, playing with my swollen nub. “Let me feel you squeezing me.”
I call his name in a moan. He’s sending me higher and higher with every thrust. Just when I’m teetering on the edge, he whispers, “Give me everything.”
His words push me over the cliff and then I’m falling into a pleasure so deep that I’m not sure where I end and he begins. There’s only this one sweaty, perfect moment between us.
It’s not until he’s coming, splashing my insides with his seed, that I realize how much it’s going to hurt me to return to my normal life after this. I’ll go back to the community home and have to pretend that I don’t know what it feels like when he’s thrusting deep into me and calling me sweetheart under his breath.
He doesn’t move for a long time. He hovers over me, letting his seed fill me without a word. Some crazy part of me hopes that today is the day my birth control fails. Maybe that’s a horrible thing to think, but what if I could have a tiny piece of Bronco forever? What if I could raise a little cowboy with his father’s eyes? Is that really such a horrible thing to want?
“You’re thinking hard about something,” he murmurs and twists his body around. He does it carefully, somehow maneuvering us without hurting my leg. We’re on the couch together, my head on his chest. I can hear his frantic heartbeat beneath his flannel shirt. That steady sound is the best one in the world. “What’s on your mind?”
I can’t tell him that I want his baby. Even the inexperienced virgin knows better than to talk about that when a man’s come is still dripping between her legs. The time to talk about babies is not now. Fortunately, my stomach growls. “Just thinking about a good sandwich.”
Chapter 10
Bronco
Lauren is lying to me. I hate that she’s not telling me the truth about what she’s thinking. For a horrible moment, I worry she’s regretting what happened between us. But this was the best moment of my life and nothing will ever change that.
Still with her stomach growling, I don’t push her on it. Instead, I help her get dressed, taking advantage of the opportunity to run my hands all over her curvy body. Judging by the heated looks she’s giving me, we’re definitely going to do this again. Food first, though.
Then I carry her into the kitchen. She protests but she doesn’t try to squirm out of my arms. There’s something so right about holding her like this when she’s warm and sated and wearing my flannel.
“What do you want to eat?” I ask as I set her on the kitchen island. She could request any meal, and I’d figure out how to make it. That’s how gone I am for this curvy woman who makes my heart beat fast with just a look.
She eyes me, her gaze traveling from my bare chest to the bulge between my legs. She licks her lips, and I groan, “We’re not doing that not until you’ve eaten something.”
She sighs dramatically. “A sandwich will be fine.”
I make her a sandwich and pass it to her. I notice her gaze on my foot, the one I’ve had multiple surgeries on. It was a long time ago.
“Does it still hurt?” She blushes. “It’s just that sometimes I see you limping, and I think it must still hurt. Then I worry about you and about how you’re always taking care of everyone, and who’s taking care of you?”
Emotion clogs my throat. I don’t deserve this woman.
“It’s fine.” I tell her and focus on eating my sandwich.
“Farm accident?”
“No.”
The silence stretches between us, and I can almost hear her trying to decide what it was. I don’t want to tell her this. I never have before.
“A mission?” she asks.
“Not exactly.”
She narrows her gaze. “There’s something you’re not telling me. What is it?”