He’s already on his hands and knees, so why not?
My demand doesn’t shake him, and like the good boy he is, he does exactly as told. His eyes lock with mine, his hands pressing into the soft blankets, his movements slow and steady with a look that’s absolutely primal.
It’s almost too slow. By the time he’s only inches away, my breathing has completely stopped in anticipation. I’ve never been this ready as I wait for him to pounce. My entire bodyaches for him to press my back into the pillows, to finally give in and give us both what we so clearly and desperately crave, but instead, he stops.
He hovers, so close his warm breath caresses my skin—and still—despite the fire raging between us, he doesn’t give in. Instead, his hand trails slowly down my thigh, heat following in its wake. His fingertips drag across the denim, following the line of my leg until he reaches the top of my white, sparkly cowboy boot.
He leans back on his heels, his fingers wrapping around the worn leather. With a gentle tug, the boot slips free. He peels off my sock next, then repeats the motion with my other foot. Rather than reaching for another piece of clothing to discard, his hands linger on my bare foot, his thumbs pressing into the soft arch.
My head falls back, eyes closing as a soft moan slips free. Am I really about to come this undone over a simple foot massage?
“How does that feel?” he asks, his voice gravely and low.
“Amazing,” I sigh, his fingers still working slow, perfect circles. “But you know, when we climbed up here, this isn’t exactly what I had in mind.”
“What can I say? I enjoy taking care of you.”
“I can’t say I don’t appreciate it.” I sink even deeper into the pillows as my body truly relaxes for the first time in, well, a really long time. “But is this really how you want to spend the rest of our night?
“You mean getting intimately acquainted with every single inch of your body?” he asks, carefully setting my foot back down onto the blankets. “Because yes. That’s exactly how I want to spend it,” he whispers, finally crawling so his body hovers over mine. “Plus, we have all night. I’m not in any rush.”
There may be the sounds of rushing water from the creek, the crackle of the fire, and the distant chirp of the cicadas, but it allfades into the background. The only thing I can truly hear is the wild pounding of my heart.
It’s almost too much to think about the weight of his words or consider how good they make me feel—so I don’t. Instead, I thread my fingers through his hair and pull him down toward me. Our lips meet, and everything feels right, only making me crave even more control. In one smooth motion, I shift and guide him backward, flipping things around as I swing my leg over his until I’m on top, straddling him.
“Fuck, Holls. That was hot,” he tells me, his hands landing on my hips.
I could, and should relish in the way he’s staring at me with those adoring eyes, but my heart can’t handle it. So instead, I silence him with my lips.
Unlike him, I don’t go slow, and I don’t take my time as my hands frantically work at the buttons of his shirt. It may not be my smartest move, but the view is far too tempting as I pull back and take in the sight of his now bare chest, his plaid shirt hanging open.
“Really?” I ask, probably shattering the mood, but come on. How is this fair?
I’ve seen him shirtless before. Multiple times, actually. But there’s a huge difference between seeing him half-naked at practice, surrounded by his sweaty teammates, and seeing him half-naked here, with me in his lap and our bodies pressed together.
“What?” he asks, clearly amused as he glances down at himself. “You don’t like what you see?”
“Oh, hush.” I push softly on his chest as I guide him into a laying position. “You know I like it.”
“Then show me,” he demands, and I do.
My hands glide across the grooves of his muscles, all the way up until I reach his equally toned pecs. His body may be firm,but I’m obsessed with the way his skin feels under mine, only making me need him even more. My fingers sneak under the leftover fabric on both his arms, capturing the shirt as I yank it downward. He thankfully lifts his body before I toss it aside.
Sinking down, I press my lips onto the skin of his chest, letting myself fully explore as I kiss, lick, and suck at his sun-kissed skin until I reach the top of his pants.
My hands reach down for his belt, and once it’s undone, I sit up, and give it a strong yank as he lifts his hips, the leather pulling free. It’s hard not to feel triumphant as I sit above him, still wearing his cowboy hat as I hold his belt high in the air.
Looks like I’m doing exactly as promised as I ride my cowboy.
It’s exactly why I thrust my hips down, letting my body press into something incredibly large and hard.
“Fuck,” he softly curses, and I moan at the exact same time. I knew my body needed him, but damn, I never realized how much until now.
I’m still fully dressed, but you wouldn’t know it by the way he’s staring up at me. “Come here, beautiful.”
As much as I enjoy being in charge, I don’t mind giving up a little control as he places a hand on my cheek and meets my lips with his.
We become a tangle of needy hands, his tongue sweeping against mine as I moan again into his mouth. Seeming to want us on a level playing field, his hand snakes between us as he works on the buttons of my shirt. Equally as needy, I wiggle my arms out the second he’s finished.
