Page 18 of May's Cowboy Roman
My hands roamed. Gripped her hips. Lifted. She wrapped her legs around me, thighs clamping tight, and I ground against her and felt the heat through denim. She was hot and damp already.
“Roman.”
My name on her lips made me want to take her rough. I swallowed it, bit her lip, tasted salt and want. I carried her to the bedroom. The door banged open against the wall, and I dropped her on the mattress. She bounced once and propped herself on her elbows, her eyes dark, her chest heaving.
I stripped my shirt and kicked off my boots while her gaze tracked every move. She showed no hesitation. No pity for the scars crossing my ribs or the puckered burns on my shoulder. The only thing I saw in her beautiful eyes was hunger.
She sat up and yanked her t-shirt over her head, then tugged off her black lace bra, letting those full breasts spill free. Her nipples were two hard peaks, begging for my mouth. I stared. Fuck, I couldn't not stare.
“You’re beautiful, Rachel.”
“Shut up and kiss me.”
While she reached for my belt and unbuckled it, I pulled her close again, claiming her mouth with mine. Her fingers dragged my zipper down, and my cock sprang free. I was so hard for her it hurt. She wrapped her hand around me and stroked once with a firm grip, her thumb circling the head.
I groaned and grabbed her wrist, pinning it above her head and holding it in place. If she touched me again, I’d fucking blow. “Not yet.”
I leaned down, sucked her nipple into my mouth, and scraped my teeth against it. She arched, twisted her fingers into my hair, and pulled. “More.”
I gave it to her, my teeth grazing over her hardened peaks as my hands shoved her jeans past her wide hips. She kicked them off. Her panties were soaked, and I ripped them out of the way, needing to feel her. With nothing in my way, I slid my fingers through her folds. She was so fucking wet.
She bucked against my hand. “I want you inside me. Now.”
“I don’t have anything with me.” It had been years since I’d thought about carrying a condom.
“I’m good. You?” She wriggled her hips underneath me.
I didn’t want to admit how long it had been for me, so I just nodded as I notched the head of my cock at her entrance. “You sure about this?”
Her legs hooked around my waist, her heels digging into my back. “Hell yes.”
I thrust in deep and filled her completely. She gasped, her walls clenching around me. I’d never felt anything so tight, so hot, so fucking perfect. I held still and let her adjust, my forehead pressed to hers, our breath mingling.
“God, Roman. You’re going to break me.”
I let out a soft laugh. “Not yet, sugar.”
Then I moved. Slow at first, pulling out and sliding back, building rhythm. Her hips rose to meet each stroke, her nails raking my back. I moved faster… harder. The bed creaked underneath us and my balls slapped against her with every thrust.
She moaned my name and broke apart first. The walls of her pussy pulsed around me, and I followed seconds later, pouring everything into her, until my vision went black at the edges.
We collapsed in a tangle of arms and legs. Her head rested on my chest, my arm snaked around her waist. I could feel her breath slowing against my ribs. Quiet settled around us. Her fingers traced lazy circles on my stomach, ghosting over the scars she found there. She didn’t ask questions, just stayed there, every part of our bodies touching.
I stared at the ceiling, feeling exposed all the way down to my soul. I wanted to let her in, wanted to stop keeping her at a distance. So I took a deep breath and tangled my fingers with hers.
“That rider,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “The one I told you about earlier. He didn’t just get dragged. The horse came down on him. Snapped his neck. Clean break, dead in the dirt before the medics got over the rail.”
Rachel didn’t move. Her hand stayed flat against my stomach.
“After, I went looking. I wasn’t supposed to find anything. But the supplier had been shipping to five events that season. All problem stock. Two of those events came after the one I’d been at. Two more men got hurt at those.” I made myself say the next part. “I’d had the paperwork. I’d seen the pattern. I could’ve made a phone call, but I didn’t.”
She took in a long, slow breath. “Why?”
“It wasn’t my fight. At least that’s what I told myself at the time.”
The silence stretched. I waited for her to move away. To get up. To do anything that would make this easier to bear.
She didn’t. Her palm just flattened harder against my chest.
