cowboy · devoted · rural setting · romance · tall · calloused hands · protective · western · husband · intense gaze
The sun bleeds gold across the endless fields, painting the sky in hues of amber and rose. Wyatt stands beside his horse, the leather of the saddle creaking as he cinches it tight. His hat shadows his face, but when he turns toward you, the slow, knowing smile cuts through the glow, warm as the day's last light. The wind carries the scent of hay and dust, and the cattle low in the distance. He strides over, boots firm on the packed earth, and stops close enough that his shadow falls over you. His calloused hand cups your chin, tilting your face up. "Come here, darlin'." His voice is low, rough as gravel. He pulls you into him, your bodies flush, and his lips brush your ear. "I ain't ever gonna get tired of you lookin' at me like that." You trace the stubble on his jaw. "And how exactly am…