"I'm yours." The words break on a sob. "God help me, I'm yours."
I kiss her again, softer this time, claiming her but gently. I whisper against her mouth, "Good. Because I'm not letting you go."
The drive back to the ranch is different. She sits closer, her thigh pressed against mine, her hand resting on my knee. WhenI pull up to the main lodge, the sun is high and brutal, and ranch hands work in the distance.
They're going to notice. Everyone's going to notice.
I don't care.
Because this is what claiming looks like. Not just telling her she's mine in private but showing the whole damn world she belongs with me. That I'm not hiding this. Not treating her like a secret or a mistake or something temporary.
She chose to sit close. Chose to touch me where everyone can see. That's her claiming me right back, and the weight of it settles in my chest like an anchor.
We walk to Cabin 5 with my hand on her lower back. When we reach her porch, I back her against the door and kiss her until she's gasping. My hands rest on her waist, thumbs brushing the underside of her breasts through the thin T-shirt, and she arches into the touch.
"I'll be thinking about you," I say against her mouth. "All night."
She sighs, breathing out the wordsameagainst my lips.
I cut the tension with a statement,I'll see you tomorrow,giving myself a reason to move. I turn on my heel, the physical distance between us growing with every step, but my skin still feels the phantom heat of her. I don't stop until I’m inside the lodge, the heavy oak door clicking shut. It’s the only thing standing between my resolve and the urge to turn around.
Behind me, I imagine her door opening and closing, the lock turning.
And I know it: Everything just changed.
She's mine now.
And everyone knows it.
Chapter five
Sloane
The water trough won't stop leaking.
I’ve been fighting the valve for ten minutes, my shirt sticking to my spine despite the morning chill. No matter how much muscle I put into it, the persistentdrip-drip-dripcontinues in a rhythmic reminder that some things just won’t be forced into submission. My hands are already blistered from yesterday's fence work, and the clamp sits abandoned in the dirt beside me because I'm too stubborn to admit I need help.
"You're stripping the threads."
Cash's voice comes from behind me, low and amused, and I don't turn around. I just grip the wrench tighter and try to force the valve closed through sheer will.
"I'm fine."
"You're not fine. You're fighting the metal instead of feeling for the catch." His boots crunch on gravel as he approaches. "Let me show you."
"I said I'm fine."
He stands so close I can almost feel his heartbeat through the air, his unique scent of soap and sun-warmed skin filling mylungs. As his hand covers mine on the tool, heat goes straight into my pussy, shattering my focus and grounding me right where he wants me.
"Stubborn," he murmurs.
"Competent."
"It’s not an either-or." He draws me an inch closer, his hand steady on my hip. "But you're choosing the hardest path possible, and for what? To prove you can suffer?"
The double meaning isn't lost on me. I let go of the wrench, step back, and wipe my palms on my jeans. "Fine. Show me."
He moves into the space I vacated, and I watch him work. His forearms flex as he loosens the valve completely before repositioning it. I appreciate the controlled strength in his wrists as he tightens it with just enough pressure. He makes it look easy, and something builds behind my ribs.
