My body shudders, and I cry out as pleasure overwhelms me. Tex holds me tightly, supporting me as I ride out the waves. My breath is ragged as the pulses ease into gentle throbs, and my body falls limp against his.
He stays right there, steady and solid, holding me through it until I can breathe again, until the world stops tilting.
For a long second, we’re forehead to forehead, breath mingling, neither of us pretending this didn’t just change something.
His thumb brushes under my chin, gentle now. “Still with me?”
I nod, dazed and overwhelmed. “Yeah.”
My body tingles, and my skin feels too tight. With every breath, I inhale the memory of what just happened. I can’t stop replaying the way he held me, how his voice sounded when he said,Let go, Jane. Let me feel you.
“Good,” he says quietly, as if my pleasure was his greatest achievement.
His mouth curves in a slow, wicked smile, giving me a glimpse of the suppressed humor just under the surface.
It startles me. Not because it’s sexy (though it is), but because I’ve seen that smile before. Not aimed at me. Thrown casually at the ranch hands when they rib each other. A dry comment under his breath that makes someone snort coffee. A quiet, perfectly timed line that lands harder because he doesn’t waste words.
Tex has a sense of humor. It’s just… buried. Packed away under discipline and responsibility and whatever he brought home from the military that taught him not to be careless with joy.
With them, he lets it slip. A flash of wit. A crooked grin. Then it’s gone again, locked back down.
With me, he’s different; careful and intentional. As if he’s afraid humor might tip into something he can’t control, or that he’ll break me if he’s not paying attention.
My chest aches at the thought because I recognize that instinct. The way you shrink parts of yourself to keep other people safe. The way you file down edges, tell fewer jokes, swallow laughter before it gets loud.
He’s helping me take up space that fits me. And if I’m brave enough, maybe I can help him remember how to take some back for himself.
I summon a smile, ignoring the unexpected chaos swirling inside me as I meet his gaze. “Yeah,” I say again, softer this time. “I’m with you.”
That wicked smile fades, and concern shadows his eyes, as if he’s seeing everything I’m not saying.
We’ve known each other for less than a week. I have no idea what happens next, but I’m starting to suspect I’m in over my head.
And the scariest part is… I don’t think I want out.
Chapter 9
Tex
I can still taste her. Stillfeelher as she came apart.
Snow clings to the cuffs of my jeans, and the cold has worked its way up to my boots, but none of it matters because Jane Cutter is standing in front of me like she’s been struck by lightning and I’m the storm that hit her.
Her lips are swollen, and her eyes are wide. Her breath stutters as if her body can’t decide whether to fight or lean in.
I shouldn’t have kissed her like that. Shouldn’t have stepped over her boundaries. I should’ve been the man with the schedule and the fences and the rules.
Instead, I broke.
And now she’s looking at me like the weight of what just happened between us is settling on her shoulders, and she doesn’t know what to do with the way her world has shifted.
I know that look. I’ve worn that look. It’s the face of someone who just found out the ground they were standing on isn’t as solid as they thought.
We stand there beside the fence line, horses snorting behind us, winter wind biting at our cheeks, and all I can think is:I want her in my cabin. In my bed. Under me. Mine.
I clamp down on the thought so hard my jaw aches.
“Jane.”
