“Let’s get you off your feet before we need to call 9-1-1 for a second time tonight,” he teases, eyes clouded with desire as they drag over my exposed skin. My body erupts in goose bumps, and he’s only touched my shoulder.
His thick cock juts from a neat thatch of dark hair as he guides me to the bed and pushes me to a seated position. And, since it’srightthere, I take advantage, sinking to my knees and wrapping my fingers around the base of the hard, velvety shaft. His responding groan thrills me. My tongue rasps over him fromroot to tip, but that’s as far as I get before I find myself on my back on the mattress, a muscular cowboy hovering over me.
“If you do that, I won’t stay quiet. And I don’t think either of us wants Ryder checking in.”
I stifle a giggle and don’t resist. We have all the time in the world to do every dirty thing we want to each other. The weight of Dallas’s body on mine and the contact between every inch of our skin makes me giddy.
“You’re so damn pretty,” I tell him, drawing my finger down his nose and then pressing it to his full lips. He frowns under my finger and then bites it. I laugh out loud, and he covers my mouth to stifle the sound.
“Dudes aren’t pretty, Sweetness. We’re manly. Studly. Devastatingly handsome and virile.” His hand prevents me from responding, even if I wanted to. “You’rethe one who’s pretty,” he finishes.
And then he’s done with sweet talk. He takes my mouth in a searing kiss, plundering me like one of my fictional knights. But the real thing is leagues better than any book. Our hands voyage, fingers scraping and pulling, legs tangling, breaths joining, until my legs are wrapped around his hips, and I’m begging him to take me.
Dallas rears up to his knees, forcing my legs to fall to the sides. His pupils are huge, almost completely overtaking his gold-flecked irises, as he devours me with his gaze. My skin is pure fire, growing impossibly hotter when he yanks me to him by my hips. His pelvis jerks back, and then he plunges into me in one long, hard, delicious stroke.
“Fuck,” he groans, and it’s my turn to cover his mouth. It’s too hard staying quiet when our bodies are so electrified.
He mutters a muffled apology, but I don’t know who he’s apologizing to. Nor do I care. My hips flex to feel the friction of his cock, and he gets the message, quickly grasping my thighs tokeep them right where he wants them. When he thrusts again, I have to bite my tongue to keep from shouting my pleasure.
He watches our connection as he continues his delicious assault. From there, it’s muffled grunting, gritted teeth, and endless panting as Dallas works me—hard and relentless. By the time my second orgasm hits, I’m a boneless mess, speaking in tongues and begging him alternately to stop and keep going.
When his release comes, he bites his fist to keep quiet, likely drawing blood—not that he appears to notice. Lungs heaving, he finally collapses on top of me and says, “We gotta get that kid his own apartment.”
My responding laugh shakes us both, and I wrap Dallas’s sweat-dampened body up in my arms and legs, deciding that I’m going to keep him just like this forever. Or at least until the morning.
Chapter
Thirty
HE’S GOT MORE ON HIS PLATE THAN HE CAN SAY GRACE OVER
Dallas
Shelby is busy in the paddock, checking out the last of the recovering calves before they get moved out to the rest of the herd. Most of them made it through their sickness, thanks to Shelby’s quick medical attention, but sadly, enough didn’t make it to have all of us holding our breath a bit. This season is going to be tight financially, but after Frankie ran numbers last night, we think we’ll come out in the black. Barely.
“Hey,” I murmur as I slide up behind Shelby and grab her ass. So many benefits to taking things beyond friendship, and this is one of them.
She lets out a soft yelp, then threatens me with the rectal thermometer in her hands. That’s enough to make me let go and back up.
“Whatcha need, Gamble?”
She’s in work mode, and it’s hot as hell. Okay, maybe not the thermometer, but her in gloves, work shirt, and hair piled on top of her head is.
“Where’s Ridge? I have a couple hours before I meet up with a customer. Figured I’d offer my services.”
Shelby gives me a once-over, her eyebrows wagging up and down at the boots and worn work jeans I have on. She sobers quickly, though. “Skye tried to talk to him about some business idea, and he stormed out of here. Pretty sure he took Echo so he could be anywhere by now.”
I sigh and shake my head. “Alright. I’ll go find him and make sure he’s okay.”
As a whole family, we haven’t discussed losing the ranch in the divorce. Every time even a whiff of that subject comes up, Ridge goes off the deep end and spends the rest of the day either throwing things or drinking himself into early liver failure. Archie is hard at work defending Ridge and collecting proof that Tiff didn’t do a damn thing to enhance the ranch and therefore doesn’t deserve half of it. They don’t even have kids together, which should have made for a speedy divorce process. Her insistence that she take half the business is asinine, and yet here we are, defending our right to our family legacy in court.
I turn to walk away and saddle up a horse, but not before Shelby smacks me on the ass. Hard. I gape at her over my shoulder. “Really, Sweetness?”
She smirks and goes back to the calf. Thank fuck we got our crap together. She’s in my bed every night, showing me just how much time we’ve wasted. It’s like we’re teenagers again. We can’t keep our hands off each other, and I wouldn’t want it any other way. If she’s not pregnant in the next few weeks, I’ll be stunned.
Which means I need to make that phone call I’ve been planning before I go deal with Ridge. Meemaw is trying to train a chicken to play dead on the front porch. I steer clear and head for the front room where I won’t be disturbed. Archie answers on the second ring.
“My favorite Gamble sibling,” he drawls by way of greeting.
