Chapter 29
twenty-nine
Sawyer
He’s not wearing the cowboy hat tonight. That’s the first thing I notice.
Instead, Trouble’s got a backwards hat shoved over his messy hair. His sun-kissed skin is extra red from being in the heat. His shirt’s clinging to him just right—forearms roped with veins, shoulders broad and completely relaxed as he’s leaning back in the daybed like he’s at the beach.
How is he that relaxed? The man spent all day fighting bulls, managed to run my ex out of town, and then kicks back like he’s got nothing but time. The audacity.
I drop into a chair across from him, crossing one leg over the other like it’ll steady me. It doesn’t.
“You didn’t have to do that,” I whisper. “Today.”
He doesn’t look at me right away. Just grabs his drink, takes a slow sip, then lets the glass hang from his fingertips. “Don’t take kindly to any man puttin’ hands on a woman. Especially you.”
He meant that. I feel it. And something in my stomach flips.
He sits up, then reaches into his back pocket and adds. “Oh—before I forget.”
Something glints in the low light as he tosses it over to me. I catch it—barely—and nearly drop the thing when I see what it is.
Harrison’s Rolex.
The one he’d rather polish than listen to me talk about literally anything.
My mouth falls open. “You didn’t.”
He shrugs, all lazy like he didn’t just do the impossible. “He wasn’t usin’ it to keep track of what matters, anyway.”
A smile spreads across my face. I stand, place the watch on the ground, and bring my heel down with a satisfying crunch. The glass shatters and I squeal—like actually let out a little laugh-scream—and Trouble just watches, lips slowly curving into a smile.
“Damn, that felt good,” I breathe, looking down at the broken pieces. “You have no idea how long I’ve pictured doing that.”
“Remind me never to get on your bad side,” he says, then nods to my heel.
“Oh, you’re safe for now.” I lean forward, eyes gleaming. “In fact, after what you did today? I’d say you earned yourself a thank you.”
He raises a brow, lazy-like. “Is that so?”
“Mmhmm.”
“And how you plannin’ to thank me, Sawyer?”
“I could think of a real good way to thank you. Give you one you won’t forget. And since my time here’s running short… I might have to thank you a few times.”
His gaze flickers to my mouth, but he doesn’t move.
I smile, pretending my pulse isn’t going haywire.
“Still going back to Chicago then?”
“Of course, I am. I still have a life there. And I really thought we’d be kissing by now.”
He grins, sharp and cocky. “You mean a kiss that don’t mean nothin’?”
“Exactly,” I tease, biting my lip. “One of those no-strings, could-happen-with-anyone kinda kisses.”
“And you’re sure you’re not catchin’ feelings?”
Me? Feelings? Like I don’t spend half my day wondering what he’s doing, or how he somehow makes a pair of Wrangler jeans look like a Calvin Klein ad.
“Not a chance,” I say, tilting my head. “Why? You worried I’m gonna start using that word you hate so much?”
“No,” he says, softly. “Because I am.”
Who does he think he is, trying to make me melt into a smile pile of mush? He can’t just go and say things like that.
Before I can answer, he reaches for me and guides me onto his lap.
I happily go, and I straddle his hips. He grabs my hand and brings it to his lips, kissing my wrist. Goosebumps spread across every inch of me.
My skirt rides up even higher, and his thumbs guide it up further until he can see my black panties.
“Don’t you dare rip these. They were expensive.”
He doesn’t respond. His hands are rough as he grabs my chin, fingers digging into my skin as he pulls me down to him like he’s claiming me, marking me, and I fucking love it.
There’s no hesitation—his mouth is on mine.
His tongue slides against my lips, and I open for him because I’m just as desperate, already moaning into his mouth like I’ve been starving for this.
His tongue is hot, wet, and fucking relentless, tangling with mine in a way that makes my pussy throb.
I can feel him everywhere—his hard chest, his cock heavy and straining against his jeans, nudging me like it’s begging for attention.
It’s instant every damn time—the heat between us, the ache, the way my body answers to his like it doesn’t even belong to me anymore.
“Tristan,” I whisper, my fingers curling into the muscle of his shoulders.
His voice rumbles low, right against my skin. “You know what hearin’ you say my name does to me.”
I shift, leaning down until my head finds his chest, his heartbeat pounding steady and rough against my ear. He lets me settle there, his arms tightening around me without a word. I don't know if now’s the right time to bring this up… but I do it anyway.
“I need to know something.”
His jaw brushes the top of my head. “What do you wanna know, darlin’?”
“Why’d you kiss me that day? At the blind auction.”
For a moment he doesn't say anything, like he’s weighing whether or not to tell the truth. Then his hand slides up the back of my neck, his thumb tipping my chin so I can’t look anywhere but at him.
“Because I couldn’t fight it anymore. I’d been wantin’ to kiss you so bad it damn near killed me.
I almost kissed you in that barn during that first storm—took everything I had not to, but I was trying to play nice for Knox.
And once I had the chance without anyone knowin’?
” His lips ghost mine, his voice rougher, lower.
“I had to take it. Any time I’m not kissin’ you, Sawyer… I’m wantin’ to.”
I shake my head, my voice barely above a whisper. “You say all the right things… make me feel like I’m the only woman in the world. How can you be this man one minute and the next be ready to put someone in the ground?”
His eyes darken, steady on mine. “Out here it ain’t about bein’ gentle or cruel…
It's about survival. When you’ve got land, and a name worth somethin’, there’s always somebody waitin’ to take it from you.
A ranch like ours? It puts a target on our back every damn day.
” He leans in closer, his voice rough and honest. “There ain’t no right or wrong out here.
You protect what’s yours, however you gotta. That’s the only way you keep it.”
I stare at him, my chest tight, my mind spinning. He can be so dangerous, and yet here he is, holding me like I’m something important he has to protect.
“Tristan…” My voice cracks, softer than I want it to.
His thumb brushes my cheek, rough and careful all at once. “Don’t look at me like that.”
“Like what?” I breathe.
“Like you see more in me than you should.”
“I do. Now how about I show you exactly how much today meant to me?”
I lean in first, but he meets me halfway, his mouth crashing onto mine. My hands fist in his shirt, pulling him closer.
His thighs are solid under mine, his cock hard against my thigh through his jeans. The way he’s looking at me—like he wants to devour me whole, like he’s memorizing the way my lips part just for him—sends a slick pulse of want straight between my legs.
“Show me, baby.” he says, fingers tightening on my hips.
I don’t answer with words. Instead, I drag my nails down his chest, slow and possessive, watching the way his abs tense under my touch.
His shirt rides up, revealing that perfect V of muscle leading down to where I desperately want to be.
I lean in, pressing my mouth to the hot skin just above his waistband, tasting him.
His breath hitches, fingers tangling in my hair—not pulling, not yet, but threatening to.
I undo his jeans slowly, popping the button, dragging the zipper down inch by torturous inch. His cock springs free, thick and flushed, already leaking at the tip. I lick my lips, watching the way his jaw clenches, the way his throat works as he swallows hard.
"The moment I saw those pretty red lips of yours tonight, I thought about this," he says.
I grin devilishly and wrap my fingers around him, stroking once, twice, just to feel him throb in my grip. His hips jerk, but he holds himself back, letting me take what I want. I lean in, dragging my tongue up the underside of his shaft, savoring the way his breath turns ragged.
"Yes, baby—"
I take him into my mouth as I sink down, my tongue swirling around the head before I swallow him deeper.
His fingers tighten in my hair, finally giving in to the urge to push, to guide me down until I choke.
I gag just a little, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes, but I don’t pull away.
I breathe through it, letting him feel the way my throat flutters around him.
"God—fuck,” his voice is wrecked, his hips twitching like he’s fighting not to thrust.
I pull back, letting him slide wet and slick from my lips, then dive back in, sucking hard, my tongue working the sensitive spot just beneath the head. His thighs tremble, his grip on me turning desperate.
“Just like that,” he moans. “Oh, shit—”
I moan around him, the vibration making him curse, his cock jerking against my tongue.
"You want me to come all over those pretty red lips?" he grits out, his voice dark.
I look up at him through my lashes, my lips stretched around him, and nod.
That’s all it takes.
His orgasm hits hard, his cock pulsing as he spills hot and bitter down my throat. I swallow every drop until he’s shuddering, his fingers finally relaxing in my hair.
But I’m not done.
I lick him clean, slow and filthy, before crawling back up his body to kiss him, letting him taste himself on my tongue.
"Fuck," he breathes against my mouth, his hands already roaming, already greedy. "You’re gonna wreck me, butter knife girl."
“I think I just did.”
“I’m not done with you, yet,” he says, pulling me closer.
His hands slide up my thighs, his fingers brush against the soaked edge of my panties. He teases me, tracing over my clit through the fabric with his thumb, and I whimper, grinding against him, desperate for more.
“Fuck,” he growls, his voice gravelly. “You’re already soaked through your panties.”
He’s everywhere now, consuming me, and I’m fucking drowning in him.
His lips move to my neck, sucking, biting, leaving marks that scream mine to anyone who sees them.
I’m arching into him, my tits pressed against him, my nipples hard and aching for his touch.
My hands fumble with my shirt, pulling it up, and his lips brush my stomach, leaving a trail of fire blazing in its path.
“You’re so damn beautiful,” he says before kissing my nipples, sucking and biting until I’m whimpering.
"I want you," I manage to choke out, my voice breaking.
“Keep talkin’ like that and I’ll never let you go.”
He takes me by surprise, shifting us until we’re on our sides, still face to face, but somehow even closer.
He pulls one leg up higher on his hip. His arm locks around me, holding me tight against him, like he can’t stand even an inch of space between us.
The heat in his eyes and the closeness is so raw, so consuming, I think my heart might burst.
And that’s when it hits me—this isn’t about to be some reckless hookup. It’s something deeper.
He kisses my forehead as his fingers press against the damp fabric of my panties, and I gasp, arching into him. He doesn’t wait—he pulls the lace to the side, exposing my swollen, aching pussy to him.
His fingers tease and torture me before he plunges two fingers deep inside me, curling them just right to make me cry out.
“Every second I’m not inside you feels like torture.”
I feel the pressure, but it's not enough. My pulse trips over itself, my thighs spread wider.
"Fuck.” I gasp, my voice trembling with need. “Don’t make me wait any longer.”
He fishes out a condom from his pocket, and I stop his hand. “No. I wanna feel all of you. I’m on birth control and I’m clean. I got tested after Harrison cheated on me… are you?”
He nods and tucks the condom back into his pocket.
His cock is still hard, thick, and fucking mind-blowing.
He lines himself up with my entrance, the swollen head pressing against me, teasing, taunting.
I’m panting now, begging for more. He slides in slowly, inch by torturous inch, stretching me, waiting for me to adjust to him.
“You take it so fucking well, like you were made for me,” he says, and I feel every ridge, every pulse of his cock as it sinks deeper.
"Oh, god yes," I manage to moan out, my voice breaking.
He stills for a moment, then presses tender kisses along my jaw. “Tell me you’re mine.”
“I’m yours,” I gasp, my nails digging into his shoulders. “Only yours.”
Then he holds me tight, his hips rolling against mine in slow, deliberate strokes. Each thrust drags his cock against that sweet, sensitive spot inside me. His hands are everywhere—cupping my jaw, tangling in my hair, holding me steady.
“No one compares to you, Sawyer,” he says, making sparks race up my spine.
It’s the contrast that undoes me—the bull rider who could break a man in two is touching me like I’m breakable, fucking me like I’m the only thing he wants in this world. Praising me in the sexiest god damn way.
His breath mingles with mine. His thrusts grow deeper, harder, his cock hitting that spot over and over until I’m trembling and on the edge of something fucking magnificent. My orgasm builds, slow and steady, until it’s all I can think about, all I can feel.
“Tristan, I’m about to—”
He catches my mouth in a kiss, swallowing my moans as I shatter around him, my pussy clenching tight around his cock, using him for every drop.
“That’s it, baby,” he exhales hard, fingers digging into my hips, and drives up into me one last time like he’s not letting me forget that I belong to him. He spills inside me, and holds me through it. His arms are wrapped tight around me as he kisses me in a way that I feel deep in my soul.
We stay like that, tangled together, his cock still buried inside me, both of us breathing hard, trembling, spent. And as everything spins around me, I know I’ll never forget this—the way he touched me, fucked me, took care of me, like I was the only thing that matters to him.
I’ve never felt this kind of pull, this fire, this ache—not with anyone. And with that truth settling like a brand on my heart, I know—I’m falling. Hard.
“Holy shit,” I whisper, my voice trembling, and he smirks that fucking grin that makes my knees weak.