Rockin' Rodeo Series Collection Books 1-3

by Vicki Tharp

  Against his better judgement, but too tired to fight against something he’d wanted since he’d laid eyes on her at The Wheel, he said, “You sure about this?”

  The full-bodied grin she gave had him reaching for his camera again. She swatted his hand away. “Enough with the pictures.”

  Chugging the last of his beer, he said, “Let’s do this then.”

  He took her hand and led her toward the bed, knowing full well this could be something he would come to regret.

  * * *

  Cora followed Ian to his bed, filled with relief and nervousness, and gratitude and trepidation. But mostly relief.

  Oh, and a little bit of lust.

  A little?

  Okay, fine. Make it a lot.

  “So how do you want to do this?” She couldn’t look him in the eye.

  Why was she so shy all of a sudden? Usually confident and quick to strip, now for some reason her hands shook, her fingers fumbled with the buttons of her shirt, and her lungs had completely forgotten their vital job. Black spots dotted her vision. Ian caught her and sat her on the edge of the bed.

  “Hey, now. You’re not going to pass out on me, are you?”

  “No.” Her stomach flopped, but she refused to vomit. That would be one hell of a mood killer.

  With a hand under her chin, he lifted her face to his and all she saw was an amazing, insightful man. He may not want her the way she wanted him, but on some level, he cared...perhaps more than anyone had in her past. She knew better than to dare ask for more.

  She pulled in a lungful of air, and her vision cleared. “I’m okay. I’m here.”

  When she thought he might pull away, he dipped his head, going in for a kiss. She zigged left when she should have zagged right. His fingers got tangled in her hair. Their noses smashed together, and their teeth clacked. They both pulled back, laughing.

  “Ouch.” Her eyes watered as she checked her upper lip for blood. “I’m so sorry.”

  “‘Tho kay,” he muttered as he wiggled his front tooth, making sure she hadn’t knocked it loose. “At least we got that awkward first kiss out of the way.”

  This encounter was more awkward than the first time she’d had sex in the cab of Jacob Stanham’s tractor. Back then it had been all arms and legs. Steering wheels and stick shifts. Hormones and lust. Curiosity and impetuousness.

  Not what was amounting to a business transaction.

  No. Definitely not a business transaction, because she knew Ian would’ve have never said yes if that were the case, no matter how pretty he might think she was.

  If she was honest with herself, she knew if she’d tried hard enough she could have found someone else willing to take her up on her offer, if all she’d wanted was a box ticked and an itch scratched.

  But she didn’t want Joe Blow. She wanted Ian.

  Not just because he filled out his Wranglers better than most of the cowboys on or off the circuit.

  Better make a move before he changes his mind.

  Her fingers went back to her shirt, but he put a staying hand over hers.

  “This isn’t something we should have to force,” he said. “It’s not like we’re on a time limit here.”

  Actually...

  She checked his watch and did a quick mental calculation. “I’ve got fifteen hours and forty-three minutes until I have to get Panache warmed up for my race tomorrow night.”

  His pupils dilated. “There’s a lot we can do in sixteen hours, lass.”

  When his voice went all low with that Irish brogue kicking in, it made her core get all warm and squidgy, and her thoughts got all kinds of imaginative.

  “Like—” She almost asked, ‘like what?’ but a jaw-cracking yawn cut her off. Heat rushed up her neck to her cheeks until flames threatened to whoosh out the top of her head. If he didn’t have a fire extinguisher in the camper, they could be in some real trouble.

  When it came to initiating sex, she hadn’t felt this embarrassed and out of sorts in...well...ever.

  What was this man doing to her? “I’m sor—”

  His lips touched hers, cutting off yet another apology. The lightness of the kiss reached down deep. He didn’t demand, he gave— in each gentle brush of his lips on hers. She tasted the hops on his lips, but she couldn’t blame the alcohol for making her head spin.

  Pulling back, he said, “You need to stop apologizing.”

  She covered her mouth with her hand to stifle another yawn.

  With his hands on her shoulders, he held her at arm’s length and gave her the once over. “Tell me the truth. How long has it been since you’ve had a decent night’s sleep?”

  Too long. Which wasn’t an answer he’d ignore. So, she said, “A bit.”

  Her eyes darted to the jumbled blanket on his half-made bed, remembering that night a few weeks before when an almost complete stranger had made her feel safe and worthy.

  He caught her staring. “Do you trust me?”

  Since she’d known him, he’d done nothing but show her by what he said and what he did that he had more kindness, forgiveness, and integrity than most people she’d over known. “I do.”

  “Then let me take care of you.”

  What ‘taking care of her’ entailed, she didn’t know, but if it involved those lips—and especially if it involved those lips all over her body—count her in. Twice.

  “Sit.”

  She sat and managed to beat back another yawn.

  He reached for the Mets T-shirt he’d let her borrow before.

  “You kept the shirt I wore under your pillow?”

  “Um...”

  Grown men always looked so adorable when they blushed.

  He shook out the shirt and laid it across his shoulder, unable to meet her eye. “Under my spare pillow. There’s a difference.”

  “Uh, huh.”

  With practiced ease, he unbuttoned her shirt and peeled it off, but instead of staring at her openly, he averted his gaze.

  “It’s okay to look,” she said. “You’re going to see all of me anyway. Unless you plan on having sex with your eyes closed.”

  He met her eyes then, the hunger in them intense. Naked. A delicious chill ran down her spine. “I don’t.”

  She hoped and prayed to every God she’d ever heard of—just to cover all the bases—that he’d lean in for another kiss and start working his way excruciatingly slowly down from there. Instead, the rat fink popped the Met’s shirt over her head, fished her hands through the arm holes, and settled the hem of her shirt around her waist.

  From her vantage point sitting on the bed, she had the best view of his pecs and wavy abs. She skimmed a trembling finger up his centerline, his skin soft and warm beneath her touch. “You seem to be a tad confused. We’re supposed to be taking clothes off, not putting them back on.”

  “Patience, lass.” As unaffected as he tried to sound, there was a part of him, a large part of him, pressing against his cotton sweats that couldn’t hide her effect on him. “I’m trying to be good.”

  “I want you to be bad.” She reached behind her, unsnapped her bra and slipped it off under her shirt and tossed it away. A low groan escaped the back of his throat.

  Reaching for her feet, he tugged off her boots and socks, then reached for her silver belt buckle. “This okay?” he asked as his knuckles brushed her belly.

  Her stomach muscles fluttered, and she managed a nod. He dragged her jeans past her hips and down her legs, running feather-light fingertips down her thighs and over her calves. Her nerves went live, and the yawning fits died.

  In fact, she might never yawn again.

  He hitched his chin toward the bed. “Scoot back.”

  Finally.

  Ian fiddled with the thermostat, shut off the light above the table, then crawled into bed beside her. She expected him to pounce, like all the other men had, but instead, he tugged her over to him until her head lay on his chest.

  His arm came up, his fingers working their way through her h
air, massaging the back of her head. Her eyes drifted closed, as she skimmed a hand down his torso, tracing the fine, fuzzy trail beneath his belly button. Her pinkie finger dipped beneath the waistband of his sweats, the long, hard tip of him already slick with precum.

  He hissed in a breath and grabbed her wrist, but not before she got one more tortuous stroke across the head. Even though she couldn’t see his expression in the dark, the rigidity in his body, and his shallow breaths told her everything she needed to know—he wanted her.

  “Why’d you stop me?”

  He moved her hand up to his chest and held it there. “Right now, you need sleep more than you need sex.”

  “But you’re—”

  “Fine.” He kissed the top of her head as his hypnotic fingers worked their way across the base of her skull. She practically heard her eyes roll into the back of her head.

  “I’m not that...that sleepy,” she mumbled. At least she thought she mumbled. Maybe she just said that in her head because his fingers never stopped working their magic. All the muscles in her body went slack.

  “Shhh.”

  How could she fall asleep when...wh...

  She woke with a start to a loud bang outside the camper as someone tossed a trash bag full of glass bottles into the metal dumpster. Along with the convenience of the electricity at the outbuilding came the disadvantage of the close proximity to the trash.

  Rolling onto her stomach, she braced herself on her elbows, and glanced down at Ian, his short hair going this way and that, his sleep hooded eyes on her. She wiped the small pool of her drool off his chest with the blanket. Apparently, she’d slept really well.

  “Morning,” she said as he raised his arms over his head.

  His back arched into the stretch, putting his flat nipple level with her mouth. She couldn’t not take advantage of the opportunity.

  “Morn—gurnph.” His hand came down on the back of her head and held her there. This time when her hand slipped south, he didn’t stop her.

  * * *

  Cora’s hand eased beneath his waistband, and for the first time since they’d climbed into bed, his eyes drifted closed. He’d lain awake all night while she’d slept in his arms, in a deep, restful, much needed sleep.

  One thing he’d learned about Cora...she liked to snuggle. Every time a soft sigh had escaped her mouth, or a toe raked up his leg, or her hands brushed his side, it had sent little shocks and salvos up and down his body.

  Which meant he spent all night with a semi hard-on, his hand clenched to keep from shaking her awake and giving her what she’d so desperately wanted the night before.

  He’d promised himself if she still wanted to have sex with him in the morning, he’d give up his Saint card. By the way her hand rubbed up and down his shaft, and the way her tongue laved, and her teeth nibbled at his nipple, she hadn’t changed her mind.

  Gently, he held the back of her head as she sucked and licked and drove him toward the edge. With her foot stomped down on the sexual gas pedal, he managed, “You still good with this?”

  “Shut up. This is happening.”

  Then she froze, her grip still deliciously tight on his cock as she glanced up. The morning sun had risen enough that he could make out her features. Her dark hair lay in a tussle around her head, her brows raised as high as her hopes. “That is unless you don’t want to. Please say you want to.”

  Fuck, yeah. Ian chuckled. “I want to.”

  “Good answer.”

  He rolled his hips as her thumb brushed across his tip. She smiled. A sexy as hell combination of relief and devilment that made him kick himself for stopping her the night before.

  Up and down his sternum, she kissed a path, pausing long enough at his belly button to dip her tongue in, but she didn’t detour for long.

  She released him long enough to throw back the blanket and strip off his sweats. A cool rush of air hit his bare skin as she shifted sideways. Now her luscious ass lay within his easy reach. The slow slide of his hand up the back of her thigh stalled when her mouth came down on him.

  Sweet Mother Mary Joseph. “Awh, fuuck.” His hand went to the tangle of hair covering her face and he gathered it out of the way. He’d spent the last couple weeks dreaming of her hot, wet mouth going down on him. No way would he miss his chance to watch it happen.

  Talent backed up her enthusiasm. Her hands and her tongue were everywhere. On his balls, on his shaft. Stroking and sucking and shrinking his world to just him and her, the here and now.

  He needed his hands on her. The reptilian part of his brain kicked in and he traced his fingers up her inner thigh. Slipping his hand under the edge of her panties, he slid a finger through the moisture gathering there. Rubbing his thumb over her nub, a moan ripped from the back of her throat. His balls tightened and for a beautiful, blissful second, his world went blank.

  “Too close.” He shifted away, his dick falling free of her warm mouth with a resounding pop.

  He’d suffered too long for this not to end with him inside her. His lungs worked double time the way they did on his morning jogs, and, despite the chill inside the camper, a light sheen of sweat covered his chest.

  Cora leaned across him, her pelvis lining up with his as she reached for her boot and tipped it over. A couple of condoms fell out. He palmed her ass and ground against her.

  He hadn’t come prepared. Getting laid had been the farthest thing from his mind when he’d packed for the trip.

  Not that he’d complain. The fact that she’d brought condoms, that she took charge, that she took responsibility instead of leaving it all up to him, made her impossibly sexier.

  Wiggling back onto the bed, she sat up, shucked her panties, and straddled him. So close to coming, he clamped his hands on her hips, pinning her pelvis in place. One false move and this thing would be over.

  She tore the packet with her teeth and spit out the small corner. He needed a few minutes to bring himself back from the brink. “We’re getting right to it? You don’t want me returning the favor?”

  “Next time.”

  His dick jumped.

  The way her nose scrunched when she laughed then snorted made her impossible to resist.

  “I’m glad a part of you likes that idea.”

  “All of me likes the idea of a next time.”

  He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her in for a kiss. Her mouth opened to his, her tongue darting out, fast and teasing. Spending a night or two with this woman would never be enough.

  With her hips free, she took advantage and rocked against him. His head fell back, and Cora kissed and nibbled her way down his chin and across his jaw, the scrape of her teeth on tender skin shot goosebumps across his and down his arms.

  She gave him a teasing, appraising look. “Last night, you weren’t convinced.”

  “Last night I was an idiot.”

  She cocked her head and eyed him. “Why do you have a funny look on your face? You didn’t expect me to argue with that, did you?”

  Ian chuckled. “No. I don’t suppose you would.”

  With a grin, that promised delightful, evil torture, she slid the condom from the wrapper. He went to take it from her, and she pulled her hand away. “I want to do it.”

  Who was he to disagree? He folded his hands behind his head to watch as Cora scooted back, giving herself better access. She held onto him, her grip bold.

  With the condom pressed to his tip, she stopped. “To be clear, those rumors that I’d poked holes in a condom to try and get pregnant aren’t true. But if you want to use your own, I’d understand. We can even double wrap. Plus, I’m on birth control now so—”

  If he’d believed the rumors, he’d never would have taken her to his bed. Ian gave her thigh a gentle squeeze of comfort. “It’s okay. I trust you.”

  In that split second before she smiled back, the old hurt, and ridicule flashed in her eyes. He doubted she’d ever admit how painful the rumors were. Though he loved that, at the same time, h
e didn’t see any shame or apology. Here was a woman who gave society’s conventional rules the big ‘fuck you’, refusing to let others dictate how she lived her life.

  As much as he admired it, he also found it sexy as hell. You only got one shot at this thing called life, so it would be tragic to let other’s opinions keep you from living it.

  She eased the condom down. “You trust me, or little Ian trusts me?”

  That sass. He grinned. “We both do.”

  “You with me?” She asked.

  “All the way.”

  She shifted, placing him into position, and wasted no time sheathing him. “Um... wow...” She stilled, her breath coming in short, hot pants as her body clamped around him.

  Those were his exact words. Only he couldn’t say them because it took all his concentration to keep from groaning like a porn star. Ian held tight to her hips, realizing he’d made a terrible, terrible mistake letting her on top, giving her the control. Because in a few seconds he would lose his. He tried to think of unsexy things like f-stops and focal length and film speed. It helped some, but not enough.

  “I take it back,” she said.

  His thumb slid to the top of her folds and she pressed against him. “What’s that?”

  “The ‘little’ comment. I’ll have to come up with another name for your penis. Like the Incredible Bulk.”

  “Isn’t that supposed to be Incredible Hulk?”

  “Not in your case.”

  “Do you...guh...” Even with his hands on her hips, she didn’t let that stop her from moving. He should have known nothing would keep Cora from getting exactly what she wanted. “...name all the penises?”

  “Just the deserving ones.”

  He almost asked how many she’d named, but he didn’t want to know the answer. He didn’t begrudge her her past. He’d just rather not hear about it while she rode him.

  “Aren’t you going to take off my shirt.” She threw on a coy, innocent look. He knew her well enough now to know neither could be used to describe her.

  “You’re trying to get me to let go of you.”

  “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”