Page 21 of His Texas Claim

She hadn’t put the underwear on.

“I did kiss you after you laid a bunch of frog facts on me,” I said.

“I thought I kissed you.”

“Kissed each other.”

She bit her lip.

This time, I didn’t wait for her to move first.

I leaned in and pressed my lips to hers…my fingers curling right at the crease of her hips, brushing soft curls. She moaned against my mouth, reaching up to fist her hands in my shirt.

Didn’t let it get deeper. Pulled back, a question in my eyes.

“Are we doing this or do you need more frog facts first?” she asked.

I let my hands move further into her shorts…up toward her abdomen. She’d said she needed some kinda treatment those few months ago—I wanted to make sure.

“You said you’d had surgery or somethin’,” I murmured. “All healed up?”

“All healed up with one less ovary.”

She was so straightforward it almost tripped me up, but I couldn’t let that ruin this.

“All right,” I said.

Then I pulled my hands away from her…moved them to tug off my own shirt. She wasn’t shy at all as she let her eyes roam over me, down to where my boxers had already tented.

“Well hi there, cowboy,” she said.

And right then, I knew I was in for trouble.

But it was the kind of trouble I liked.

EIGHT

Bryn

Stetson didn’t stop kissing me as he lifted me clean off the boulder and into his arms.

I wrapped my arms and legs around him, clinging to him, rocking my hips against him. I could feel him so clearly even through my shorts and his boxers…getting harder, big, warm. My t-shirt rode up and his skin was warm too, soaked in May sunlight, his shoulders tensed under my curling fingers.

“No tent,” I mumbled against his lips. “Outside. Blanket⁠—”

He chuckled and carried me toward the blanket he’d spread out by the fire, kneeling before carefully laying me out beneath him. He caged me in with his hands, lowered to one elbow, then slid the other hand under my shirt to cup my breast.

“Talkin’ about my skivvies when you ain’t even wearin’ any,” he rumbled, his Texas accent stronger with his guard down.

“I knew what I wanted.”

“So did I.”

His fingers found my nipple and pinched hard. I arched and moaned, gazing up into the big Texas sky, watching the fireflies dance. He shifted his weight, mouth trailing from my jaw down to my collarbone, and I felt him smile against my skin when I gasped.

"Keep making that sound," he said.

"So bossy."