He didn’t hesitate. He cupped me firmly through my jeans, his palm molding to my shape. I let out a broken sound—half-sob, half-moan—as he found the seam of my pants. His thumb began to move, a slow, punishingly perfect circle right over my center. He knew exactly where I was the most sensitive, and he pressed in with a dominance that made my knees turn to water.
“Is this what she meant, Jamie?” he whispered against my ear, his breath hot and demanding. “Is this what you’ve been thinking about? Me, making you come?”
“Yes,” I choked out, my hands twitching in his grip.
He increased the pressure, the rough fabric of my jeans becoming a weapon as he rubbed against my clit. I was soaking wet, the heat blooming between my legs like a wildfire. He was relentless, his hand possessive as he ground into me, making sure I felt every inch of his strength. His control over my body.
“I’m the man for the job, darlin’,” he muttered, and then he finally crashed his mouth down onto mine.
His tongue forced its way past my teeth, tasting like coffee and danger. So dangerous.
“Slade—”
“You’re going to come for me, Jamie,” he whispered against my ear, his voice a low, gravelly promise. “You’re going to come with me just touching you like this. You’re going to come hard and fast and you’re going to love it.”
I couldn’t deny it. I couldn’t deny him. But the friction was making me frantic. I wanted the barriers gone. I wanted him touching me, fully.
“Touch me, Slade.” He knew exactly what I wanted.
“You want me to touch your pussy? I don’t need to. I can make you scream just like this.” He shifted his weight, grinding the coarse, doubled-over seam of my jeans directly into my clit, using the heavy denim to drive me insane. It was hard, deep, and relentless. He knew exactly where I was the most sensitive, and he didn’t give me a second to breathe, let alone think.
“Too much,” I whispered even though I was arching into him, begging for the very thing that was shattering me.
He didn’t answer, just kept up that relentless rhythm. I felt it start. That wave of pleasure. It was nothing like what I’d ever experienced. It was… everything and I let myself fall into it. In a barn. On a dude ranch. With a cowboy rubbing my clit.
I bit my lip, the scream building in my throat until it exploded. Slade caught it, his mouth covering mine, swallowing my release as my body bucked against the barn wall. The pleasure was so sharp it was almost painful. My legs gave out entirely and the only thing keeping me upright was his heavy body pinning me against the wall.
Finally, he stopped and pulled back, watching the way I trembled. He looked like a man who had just proven a point.
I forced my eyes open. I didn’t know if I should be outraged at the way he’d controlled me, or ask him to do it again. “Thanks for the lesson,” I managed. “Very educational. See you at dinner.”
He growled my name, but I didn’t let it frighten me. I turned and walked out of the barn, my legs trembling so hard I almost stumbled. This time he didn’t try to stop me. He knew he’d won this round of whatever game we were playing.
The full force of the Texas heat hit me like a wall, but I kept walking. All the way back to my cabin. Once inside, I leaned back against the door. My phone rang and I didn’t have to look to know who was calling.
She’d always had a sixth sense about things like this.
“Paige, I need some advice.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Slade
I thought I had known want.
I’d been twenty-two and winning, and the women had been there—warm and willing and easy, the kind that showed up at the gate after a ride with their eyes on the buckle, completely ignoring the man. I wasn’t proud of it, but I’d been young and stupid, and the attention had felt like something real when you’d grown up the way I had, passed between group homes and foster placements like something nobody could quite figure out what to do with.
I’d learned fast that people left. I’d learned faster how not to need them to stay.
So, I hadn’t needed them. I’d taken what was offered and moved on to the next town and the next ride and kept everything clean and simple and mine alone.
I’d gotten more particular over the years. Quieter about it. The circuit didn’t slow down, but I had, and it had suited me fine.
Nothing had prepared me for Jamie Parker.
She’d stayed in her cabin yesterday. Skipped dinner. Skipped breakfast this morning. I’d sat at Lucinda’s table with coffee I couldn’t taste and told myself I was a patient man, but believed it a little less with every passing hour.
My whole world had narrowed down to her.
