I turn slowly towards him.
His hands slide the straps off my shoulders, and I let the fabric fall to the floor, pooling around my feet. I'm left in just my underwear and bare feet on the soft rug.
"Grant," I whisper, turning to face him, cheeks warm.
He takes a step back, eyes devouring every inch of me, and then—with deliberate slowness—he removes his cowboy hat and places it gently on my head.
The smirk that spreads across his face is lethal. And cocky. Andmine.
"There," he says, his voice a reverent rumble. "Damn, you look good wearing my hat. Just my hat. Just my girl. Just us."
I gasp as his teeth graze the spot just below my ear.
“Grant,” I breathe, my hands finding purchase on his shoulders.
Shaking my head with my throat suddenly too tight for words. I feel like I’ve been unraveling all day—ever since he kneeled before me and asked me to be his Missus Taylor.
Grant’s eyes burn hotter than the Texas sun. His fingers trail down my arms, reverent, slow.
He slides his hands from my lower back to my hip, his fingers firm and possessive as we sink down onto the blanket in front of the fireplace. Every inch of him radiating heat, want,intent.And I feel it—deep in my belly, curling low like a slow fire.
I blush so hard it should be illegal. "You really think I look good as a cowgirl?"
His eyes darken. "Mia, you look like every dream I ever had that I didn’t know I was allowed to want."
I laugh, nerves and affection tangling in my chest. "You say things like that, cowboy and I forget how to function."
He grins. "Good. I plan on keepin' you thoroughly disoriented."
He leans over me slowly, one arm braced beside my head as he brings his lips to mine.
"You have no idea how long I've waited for this," he says, his voice raw.
"I do," I whisper, fingertips brushing his cheek. "Because I’ve been waiting too."
Our kiss is slow, deep, and achingly tender. It speaks of every missed moment, every longing glance, every unspoken hope. His hands slide over my body like he’s memorizing me, like he’s grounding himself in the feel of my skin and the way I sigh into his mouth.
Grant feeds me a chocolate dipped strawberry with a wicked glint in his eyes, holding it just above my lips until I lean forward and take a bite. The burst of sweetness on my tongue is nothing compared to the way he watches me—like every little thing I do undoes him.
He tips a glass of champagne to my lips next, the cool bubbles fizzing against my mouth, and then he takes a slow sip himself, licking a drop from his lower lip like he knows exactly what it does to me.
Before I can even process the heat curling low in my belly, he lifts me effortlessly into his arms again, one hand beneath my thighs, the other braced at my back like I’m made of something rare and precious. His lips graze my temple as he murmurs, “You got no idea what you do to me.”
The moment we enter the bedroom, my breath catches.
More candles—dozens—flicker along the windowsills, the dresser. Golden light dances across the walls like a promise. The room glows, wrapped in warmth and intimacy, as if the whole world’s been reduced to just this: us.
He lays me on the bed and our kiss is slow, deep, and achingly tender. It’s not rushed, not greedy—it’s reverent. It’s every missed moment, every secret glance, every night spent away wishing. His hands move over me with purpose, like he’s relearning what already belongs to him.
Taking my hand, he brings it to his lips, brushing a kiss across my knuckles, before he slowly slides off my panties, never breaking eye contact. He doesn’t let go—not even as he lies back on the bed like a king stretching into a throne that’s been waiting for him. One arm tucks behind his head, but the other never lets go of me.
His eyes darken, voice dropping into something dangerous and reverent all at once.
“Darlin’,” he murmurs, eyes never leaving mine, “how ‘bout you park that pretty little saddle right here…” He pats his mouth. “…and let me take the reins from underneath.”
Heat floods me. I move toward him, crawling up the bed with his cowboy hat still perched on my head. His gaze tracks me like prey—hungry, full of affection, full of promise.
When I reach him, I hesitate just slightly. He sees it. Of course he does.
