The Virgin Cowboy(14)

I roll my eyes and tap my foot, waiting, pretending I don’t care, when really inside I’m freaking out. What he always has to say is that I’m too young or some shit like that. Thinking he knows what’s best for me. Or worse, what if he says something about us having a fling and getting this out of our systems? I think that would hurt worse than him saying I’m too young. At least that meant he was worried about me. That he cares. But the idea of a fling makes it all feel cheap. That he doesn’t have these love feelings like I do and that this is all just lust for him. That would break my heart.

“I’ve wanted you from the second I saw you. When you were too goddamn young for me to be thinking about you the way I did. I waited and bided my time. When you turned eighteen, all I wanted to do was to finally claim you and make you mine. You’ve been driving me insane with how you call me Daddy and the way you play with me. You absolutely love pushing my buttons and testing my patience.” He takes a breath, closing his eyes like he’s still picturing it. “But I thought you deserved better than me, so I didn’t take what I wanted. More than wanted. I had respect for your brothers and for you, and I didn’t want to ruin you, Dolly. I wanted you to stay clean and pure. Not be with some bastard who doesn’t even know how you begin to give you a family. I don’t even really know what a family is. And I know that’s what you want. White-picket fence and kids running all over the place, all of that.”

“But—”

He holds up a hand, cutting me off. “But then I realized that no one will ever be good enough for you, not even me.” I see the dark look in his eyes as he takes a step towards me. “But it’s also true that no one will ever want you more than I do. And no one will ever love you more than I do.”

He drops down to one knee in front of me and pulls a simple gold band with a diamond on it out of his pocket.

“Brandon,” I whisper, my hands going to my mouth. I can’t believe what’s happening. He’s pouring his heart out to me. I hate that he thought he wasn’t good enough for me and that he doesn’t think he deserves a family.

“I want to prove to you that I’m not going anywhere. I dragged my feet to give you a chance to change your mind about me, even though my feelings never changed. There’s nothing about you that I don’t love. You’re loud, the center of attention in every room, and I get to sit back and watch you shine. You’re stronger and work harder than anyone I’ve ever met.”

I don’t say a word as reaches out, taking my hand and sliding on the ring.

“You’re going to marry me, Dolly, not because I’m asking—I’m not—but because there’s no other choice that I will allow. You’re mine. Have been from day one. You sealed your fate the first time you turned those eyes on me and flashed those dimples. You think I’m going somewhere, but I’m not. The only direction I’ve ever been headed is towards you.”

I want to cry, I want to laugh, and I want to fall on the ground with him, all at the same time. But I’m frozen in place. He’s given me my every wish, and I don’t know how to process getting my happily ever after.

“Now,” he says, getting off the floor and picking me up. “I’m going to take you to bed and wear you out.”





9





Brandon





Dolly’s back hits the bed, and I’m on her, ripping at her top. The material is no match for my need for her—or my anger at the shirt. The sound of the material tearing is loud in the room, and it makes me even harder. My mouth goes straight for what’s been taunting me all night since she showed up in this outfit. Her full breasts spill out, and I lean down, latching on to her nipple. I’m going to make sure these clothes never see the fucking light of day again.

My hands lock on her hips as I eat at her body, wanting to know what she tastes like everywhere. Needing to know. All these years of want are pushing down on me, and I try to remind myself to go slow, but I can’t seem to stop. I need it all.

“Brandon,” she moans, her fingers sliding into my hair as her back arches off the bed.

“You giving yourself to me, little lamb?” I ask, looking up at her. My hands on her hips dig in deeper in pure possession. I can’t seem to let her go.

“I gave myself to you a long time ago,” she admits, and her words sink in deep. She belongs to me. Always has. There has never been another option. We were made for each other. I’m going to spend my life proving I’m the man for her, and I know she’ll give me the life I’ve been dreaming of.