Page 18 of July’s Cowboy Dallas

She tasted like heaven.

Her fingers tangled in my hair, her thighs trembling around my ears as I worked her with my tongue, slow and deep. She was still sensitive, still riding the edge, and when I slid a finger back inside her, she cursed, her hips jerking against my mouth.

“Dallas, I can’t⁠—”

“You can.”

Her second orgasm hit harder, her whole body locking up before she sagged against the wall, her chest heaving. I didn’t stop, not until her hands went limp in my hair, not until she was boneless and breathless and begging me to stop.

Then I stood, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. She watched me through heavy-lidded eyes, her lips swollen, her skin flushed.

“Your turn,” she murmured.

I didn’t argue.

She had me against the wall before I could blink, her hand wrapping around my swollen cock through my open jeans. I hissed, my head falling back as she stroked me, her thumb swiping over the tip.

“Sadie—”

“Shut up.”

Then her mouth was on me, hot and wet, and I lost the ability to form words. Her tongue was relentless, her hand working the base of me, and I was gone, my fingers tangled in her hair, my hips jerking into the heat of her mouth.

I tried to warn her, but I didn’t get the chance. I came with a groan, my body locking up as pleasure ripped through me. She took everything I gave her, her nails digging into my thighs, her name a ragged sound on my lips.

When I could breathe again, I hauled her up, crushing her against me. Her heart pounded against my chest, her skin damp with sweat.

“That was⁠—”

“Yeah.” She kissed me again, slow this time, her lips soft against mine. Then she pulled back just enough to meet my eyes.

The second I had room to think again, every careful instinct I’d spent years living by came rushing back. I buttoned her shirt with hands that weren't steady. Smoothed her hair back from her face. Found her hat where it had fallen and set it on her head like she was something breakable.

She let me. But her eyes were too bright when she looked at me.

“Tell me that was only the adrenaline,” she said.

I could've lied. Could've handed her the easy answer and let us both pretend.

But I’d spent years lying to myself about Sadie Hollister, and I didn’t have another one left in me.

CHAPTER 6

SADIE

I woke before my alarm, my body already tense with the kind of awareness that came from knowing I'd crossed a line I couldn't uncross.

Dallas Miller had his hands on me yesterday. Not only his hands, but his mouth, too. His weight pressed against me in that dusty alley while I came apart twice and didn't care who heard.

Now I had to look at him in daylight and pretend I knew what any of it meant.

I didn't.

My body didn't care what it meant. My body had woken up wanting him again, which was inconvenient and humiliating and apparently just how things were now.

The rodeo grounds were already busy when I arrived, volunteers hauling equipment, vendors setting up booths along the midway. The Fourth of July Rodeo was bearing down fast, and the whole town buzzed with that particular brand of organized chaos that came before a major event.

Dallas's truck was parked near the stock barn.