Page 23 of Buck ’Em Cowgirl

“I like weird,” he murmured as he leaned in closer.

The entire air in the hotel bar seemed to vanish. Gone. My chest tightened as I tried to breathe, but all I could take in was him—the musk, the amber, the presence that surrounded him.

This was wrong. So wrong.

He hovered there, so close that I could feel the heat of his breath, and my mind betrayed me. All those usual fears, the doubts, the overthinking—they were silent for once. Completely quiet.

All that remained was my body screaming, yes, yes, yes.

“Fuck it,” I whispered, leaning in to close the space between us.

The moment our lips met, it wasn’t a kiss—it was chaos. His mouth was hot and demanding, his lips moving against mine with a hunger that left no room for hesitation. He tangled his hand in my hair as he tilted my head back, devouring me like he couldn’t get enough. His tongue slid against mine, teasing, coaxing, claiming, and his teeth grazed my bottom lip enough to make me gasp. The faint scratch of his mustache sent shivers racing down my spine.

He pulled away suddenly, his breath ragged, leaving me trembling and aching for more. His dark eyes locked onto mine as he reached into his pocket, pulling out a few bills and tossing them on the bar without a second glance.

“You’re coming with me,” he murmured confidently.

I nodded, barely able to find my footing as he grabbed my waist and lifted me off the stool. His grip was possessive, and he slid his hand down to entwine with mine as he led me toward the elevator. Every step was excruciating as the ache inside me grew. I was uncharacteristically soaked, desperate, and ready to let him show me what it meant to be fearless.

The elevator doors opened, then closed after we stepped in, and he crashed his mouth back onto mine. Gripping my hips, he pulled me tight against him as he claimed me with his tongue. He pushed me against the back wall of the elevator, and I mewled into his mouth.

He broke the kiss, his lips brushing mine as he growled, “All dressed up like a cowgirl, but you’ve got no idea what it means to be ridden right, do you?” His teeth tugged at my bottom lip, making me gasp. “Bet you’d let me tie you up, leave you screaming my name so loud they’d all know who you belong to.”

Before I could catch my breath to respond, his mouth was back on mine, his hands gripping me like he couldn’t get enough. I wasn’t his—this wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. This was a thing we were doing, right? Some possessive game we were playing, nothing more. My head was spinning, and I couldn’t tell where the game ended.

I was too far gone to care, too wrapped up in the heat of it all. Not when the elevator doors opened, not even when I ran my fingers over my lips and felt how swollen they were.

“Come,” he said.

I didn’t even think, just followed, and he slid his hand into mine, his grip firm and steady as he led me down the hallway.

We stopped at a door, and he quickly unlocked it.

“Are you staying with someone?” I asked, my stomach twisting at the thought of walking in on his dad or anyone else.

“No,” he said with a smug smile. “Thank fuck.”

The moment we were inside, he was back on me, his mouth bruising mine before moving to my neck. I shivered when his teeth grazed my skin. My jacket hit the floor as his hands roamed.

With a growl, he lifted me effortlessly, sliding his hands down to squeeze my ass through the tight pink pants that felt like they were barely holding me together. I wrapped my legs around him, and he carried me to the bed area, the heat between us so intense it felt like the air had been sucked out of the room.

This wasn’t my life. Not the one I knew. Holy fuck. I’d never done anything like this before—not even pre-accident. I wasn’t the kind of girl who let go like this. But here I was, clawing at him, wanting it. Craving the rawness, the filth of it. I didn’t even make him shower. I wanted the grit, the sweat, the musk. I wanted it all.

“Fuck,” I moaned as he dropped to his knees, bracketing my legs and tugging me closer until I was perched right in front of him.

He knelt between my legs, gripping my boots firmly. His dark eyes flicked up to meet mine. “First, let’s get these off.”

He tugged off one boot, slow enough to make me squirm, then the other, his fingers brushing my skin in a way that sent heat pooling low in my belly.

Leaning closer, he slid his hands up my thighs. “Come on, Cowgirl. You wanted to play the part. Let me show you how well I know how to ride.”

Before I could even think, he stood and pulled me up with him, sliding his hands into the waistband of my pants and shimmying them down in one smooth motion. I was left standing there in nothing but plain black cotton underwear, the kind I hadn’t thought twice about putting on. Thank God I’d shaved—though I wasn’t about to let myself think about how it had anything to do with Mike. That thought died the second I felt Beau’s hands on me again.

I swallowed hard as he stepped back, dragging his eyes over me, hot and shameless, like he was taking his time savoring the view. His hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat, and his fingers, still streaked with dirt, flexed at his sides, rough and calloused.

“Lie down,” he demanded, and I fell backward as he stared at me, his eyes darkening with desire.

My thighs spread instinctively as he knelt between them. His hands were rough and firm as he slid them up my legs, leaving a trail of fire in their wake, his fingertips grazing enough to make me squirm.