Rope the Moon (Runaway Ranch, #2)(85)

Everything I thought I lost, brought back because of this man.

“This is how it’s gonna be,” he rasps. His hand kneads my breast, a primal growl rising out of his chest. “Me buried inside of you. Every night, Dakota.”

There’s nothing sexier to me than watching Davis—steady, disciplined Davis Montgomery—fighting for control. His ridged muscles rippling, the hiss of air between his teeth. Hooded brown eyes glazed with lust.

A man whipped wild beneath my hands.

A man who’s mine.

The powerful thrust of his hips has me rocketing up, but I hang on. My knees shake, my thighs ache. Another thrust of his hard erection has me gasping for air.

“Dakota.” My name’s a plea on his lips. His fingers stroke over my nipple. “Never letting you go again. You hear me, Cupcake? Never fucking ever.”

A hot tear slides down my cheek. “Davis,” I whisper.

“You and that baby—I’m going to spoil you fucking senseless. Love you both so damn hard. Protect you until the end of my goddamn days. I swear to God.”

Tears leak from my eyes. They’re the most beautiful words I’ve ever heard. My son and I—loved.

Safe.

This man has no idea what he does to me.

“Say it now,” he growls. “So there’s no doubt. Not anymore. You’re mine.”

On a broken sob, I gasp. “Yes. I’m yours, Davis.”

Satisfaction flares in his dark eyes “Goddamn, Dakota, you break me.”

I angle my hips, and Davis goes deeper. I pulse around him and a hot wave of desire builds in me, exquisite and forceful.

“Davis!”

His grip tightens on my hips. Bruising. Claiming. “Milk me dry, baby,” he growls.

His words light a fuse and I go wild on top of him. He stretches me open and I surrender, filling myself with all of Davis. I ride his hardness until we’re both panting like we’ve scaled Everest.

“Mine,” he grits out, eyes locked on mine.

“Yours,” I say breathlessly.

Davis powers into me. I throw my head back and grind against him. He tenses beneath me and then we both come apart. Davis unleashes, spilling into me. Our release sends us into a shattered realm—six years’ worth of secrets, of love confessed in a single night. There’s no going back. It’s just Davis and me and an endless sky of stars.

Our cries echo throughout the cabin. Moonlight falls through the windows. Nothing between us now. Nothing to keep us apart.





I wake to the best view in the world. And I’m not talking about the jagged mountains cutting across the morning sky. It’s Dakota in my arms.

This is how it should be. Koty in my arms every goddamn morning.

This is how it will be.

Only Dakota in my bed. For the rest of my goddamn days, it’s this woman. It’s always been this woman. Her and no one else.

All these years, I never imagined Dakota felt the same way I did. Had I known that, would I have stayed away? Would I have told her earlier how I felt? It doesn’t matter. We have a second chance. It’s all I’ve ever wanted.

Not fucking up. Not letting go. Never again.

There’s time for us.

But first, Aiden King.

I have the bastard’s name now. I’m on the offense. Already my mind lights on a game plan. Get his picture. Call in every contact. Every favor. And if he sets foot in Resurrection—beat him so goddamn hard he won’t even be recognizable as a carcass. Black and white has no meaning for me anymore. There’s only gray.

Only Dakota and that baby I love.

Nothing can happen to them. I wouldn’t survive it.

Dakota moans sleepily and buries her face in the pillow. Her black hair spills across her porcelain skin. Ebony on ivory.

I splay a hand over her swollen stomach, feeling the tumbling of movement inside. The wave of primal protection cresting over me has me by the throat.

This changes goddamn everything. This woman. This child. They are what I want.

The very fact that someone could touch her, lay a hand on her, has me livid. That fucking piece of shit who took Dakota’s light and then tried to destroy exactly what made her shine. I’m going to destroy the bastard.

Dakota’s story is a nightmare.

But from now on, she’ll only live in a dream.

I’ll see to that.

With quick, gentle fussing, I spread the blanket over her and take a second to stroke my hand down the curve of her spine. Then I pull on my jeans, grab my phone, and creep into the kitchen.

“Shit.”

Five missed calls from Charlie and one text.

Charlie: Wyatt went HAM last night.

Christ.

I text my brother back and pocket my phone. Annoyance slices through me as I scan the small kitchen. It’s a disaster, no doubt thanks to Ford. Wrappers from the fancy cinnamon candies he loves to eat lay scattered across the counter. I sweep them into the trash and hide away his fishing knife and tackle box. In the cabinet, I find a small packet of instant coffee and a jug of water we keep in case of emergencies. I mix the cold coffee, take a swig, then get back to Dakota.

I stare at her stomach, wrapped tight in the cotton sheets. “Cupcake,” I say, stroking a finger over her cheek. “You up?”

She stirs. “Best sleep ever.”