Page 4 of Promised to the Cowboy

I answer by tugging his shirt free and running my hands up the hard plane of his stomach. His muscles jump under my palms. “Stop asking andtouch me.”

That’s all it takes.

He strips me slowly, like he wants to savor every part he unwraps. My shirt, then my bra—his mouth closing hot and wet over one nipple while his hand palms the other. I arch into himwith a sharp gasp, heat flooding between my legs so fast it makes me dizzy. Every flick of his tongue sends sparks straight down my spine. My fingers fist in his dark hair, holding him there as I grind against the hard ridge of his cock through his jeans.

“Gabriel—” His name comes out breathless.

He lifts me like I weigh nothing, carrying me to the bed and laying me down. Then he takes his time, discovering my body with his hands and mouth as if he’s memorizing every inch. When he peels my jeans and panties down, the cool air hits my soaked center, and I shiver. His eyes flare at the sight.

“Fuck, Evie,” he breathes.

He spreads my thighs and settles between them, shoulders holding me open. The first slow drag of his tongue over my clit rips a cry from my throat. He doesn’t rush—long, slow strokes, sucking gently, then firmer, reading every twitch and moan like a map. Two thick fingers slide inside me, curling just right, and the stretch is so good it borders on too much. Pleasure coils tight and vicious in my core.

I come hard, back bowing off the bed, thighs trembling around his head as white heat explodes through me. He works me through it, gentling his tongue until I’m shaking and oversensitive.

Too much. Too good. This was supposed to be simple.

Then he rises over me, shedding the rest of his clothes. He’s beautiful—broad shoulders, corded arms, heavy cock flushed dark and leaking. My mouth goes dry with fresh want.

He rolls on a condom with steady hands, then braces above me, eyes locked on mine. “Tell me if it’s too much.”

It’s not. I wrap my legs around his hips and pull him in.

The first push is a slow, burning stretch that steals my breath. He’s thick, and I feel every inch as he sinks deep, groaning low in his chest. The sound vibrates through me. For a second, we just stay there—joined, breathing each other in.

Then he starts to move.

It’s devastating.

Deep, rolling thrusts that hit something inside me I didn’t know existed. Every stroke drags pleasure through my whole body. I cling to his back, nails digging in, meeting him thrust for thrust as sweat slicks our skin. The room fills with the wet sounds of sex—broken moans, his low curses when I clench around him.

He shifts his angle, and suddenly it’sperfect.I cry out, heels digging into his ass as another orgasm crashes over me, harder than the first. Gabriel curses, his pace turning rougher, more desperate, chasing his own release while I’m still pulsing around him.

He comes with a guttural groan, hips jerking, face buried in my neck.

We stay locked together afterward, hearts hammering. The weight of him is perfect. The quiet that settles over us feels easy and comfortable—which already feels like a problem.

The second time is slower. His chest against my back as he takes me from behind, one hand working between my legs, rubbingtight circles on my clit while he fucks me deep and steady—unhurried, like he has nowhere else to be.

Afterward, I lie awake while he sleeps.

I watch the ceiling, then his face. In sleep, he looks softer, younger; that careful control finally relaxed. One hand rests on the mattress between us like an invitation I’m trying not to accept. My body is deliciously sore, marked by his mouth and hands, and my chest feels dangerously full.

I built tonight to be simple. One night. No strings.

Lying here with his scent on my skin and his cum still warm between my thighs, I realize we didn’t use a condom the second time. Panic flickers—brief and sharp—then I shut it down. Timing’s wrong. It’ll be okay.

Still, I already know the rules I insisted on are too small to contain what happened tonight.

This was supposed to be a careful man who looked at me like I mattered for a few hours. But the way he asked every single time if I was sure, the way he took me apart and put me back together like he had all night and nowhere better to be… it got under my skin. It already feels like more than I can carry on the road tomorrow.

I slip out before dawn—boots in hand, keys ready, truck starting quietly in the dark blue hush. I don’t leave a note. The rules didn’t allow for one.

I only look in the rearview once.

Then I put both hands on the wheel, set my jaw, and drive.

Chapter 3