Rockin' Rodeo Series Collection Books 1-3

by Vicki Tharp

  She rounded her hips. His spine tingled, and his balls drew up and his voice came out tight when he said, “It is if you don’t want this to last more than one-point-five seconds.”

  She stripped off her shirt, her eyes lighting when his gaze landed on her breasts. “Nothing wrong with a quick start.”

  Awh, hell. He had to touch her. She stilled when his hands brushed up her belly, her muscles clenching around him as he settled her breasts in the palms of his hands. He kneaded the abundant mounds, his thumbs brushing over her taut nipples. Her head fell back and rolled on her shoulders from side to side, as she rubbed and ground against him, chasing that sweet release.

  Streaks of hot pleasure shot up his spine. He couldn’t take it any longer. He wrapped his arm around her waist and reversed their positions. It wasn’t the graceful roll he’d seen in the movies. His foot got caught in the covers, and he had to kick and fight to free himself. Cora’s hand landed on his bruised ribs and for a split second the pain blocked out the pleasure.

  He fell on top of her, barely able to catch his weight on his arms before crushing her, their bodies no longer joined, and their laughter shaking the mattress.

  But that didn’t dampen his lust for more.

  9

  The laugh on Cora’s lips died when Ian reached down and sheathed himself to the hilt. She couldn’t remember when she’d felt so full, and it wasn’t just because of the Incredible Bulk.

  She was full of him.

  Which turned her on even more. She let the low moan slip from her throat as she surged up against him. Cora needed more of this, of him.

  Supporting his weight on his arms, Ian settled into a slow, sensuous rhythm. The cords in his neck strained along with his considerable control as he feathered kisses down her neck and across her shoulders until he found his way to her breasts. His stubble lit up her nerves and sent salvos of shivers down her spine.

  Under the playful tug of his teeth on her nipples, she bucked, one hand cradling him to her breast while the other raked up his back as the pressure and pleasure built. Her breathing hitched, and all higher thought ceased as they galloped toward that soul-shattering cliff.

  At the last second, he raised up, and she locked her legs behind him as he pounded into her. Flesh slapped. The camper shook. Hinges squeaked. An open cabinet door thumped and bumped.

  “Faster,” she said.

  His breathing went raspy and rapid. He had to be near his limit.

  Dropping back down on all fours, panting, sweaty and slick, as his strokes became erratic, he reached between them, brushing his thumb across her sensitized nub. Her nerves pinged, sending a rush of heat throughout her body. Cora clung to the edge of the cliff by her fingernails.

  One slipped. Then the other.

  She fell.

  His name ripped from her lips at the same time they heard voices and the telltale clank of glass on metal as someone tossed a trash bag of their empties from the night before.

  Ian covered her mouth with his, but he wasn’t quick enough to keep her from crying out. His pace slowed, the rocking of the camper stopped, her climax squeezing around him. He thrust once, twice more. A low groan ripped from his throat as he stiffened above her.

  After, he eased down to his forearms, his eyes meet hers, and she couldn’t hold back the bubble of laughter. “Do you think they heard?”

  Ian’s face flushed, his chest heaving as he rolled onto his side and disposed of the condom. When he turned back to her, he said, “‘They’ as in the guys throwing their trash away or ‘they’ as in the parking lot in general? Because I’m pretty damn sure between the camper rocking and your screaming, the whole damn place knows.”

  “I’m sorry. I—”

  For someone who normally didn’t care what people thought, she hadn’t apologized this much in almost all her life, but for some reason Ian’s opinion mattered.

  He rolled to his side and cupped his hand over her mouth and shut her up. Then he brushed his thumb across her cheek and pulled her in for a barely-there kiss that packed a power punch, touching her heart and tightening her chest.

  “I told you to stop apologizing,” Ian said. “I don’t care who heard us. It’s no one’s business but our own.”

  “Maybe at least now the news will spread that you slept with me and people will leave you alone.”

  “I’m a big boy, Cora, I can fight my own fights.”

  Wait? Did he have a problem with her sticking up for him? She rose on an elbow. “Is that your way of saying you’re too macho to have a woman fight your battles?”

  With a hand to the back of her neck, he brought her in for another touch of his lips. A touch that gripped her heart in its tight fist. What was this man doing to her?

  That part of her that would normally kick any kind of sentimental feelings in the balls and run screaming, wanted to wind a leg through his and pull him closer.

  “I have nothin’ against a lass fightin’ me battles.” The light sparked off his eyes as he laid the Irish brogue on extra thick and low. “In fact, I kinda fancy it. I’m just saying ye don’t have ta, yeah?”

  Heat pooled between her legs at the rumble of his accent. “I want to.”

  “Then I won’t stop ye, lass.” His fingertips worked the muscles at the base of her skull, making it almost impossible not to close her eyes and get lost in him again.

  “You fight dirty, Ian Murphy,” she mumbled, which only made her like him more. Want him more. “Do you always wield that accent like a sexual sword, making all the women want to fall on it?”

  Okay maybe not all the women. Maybe just her.

  “I don’t care about other women,” Ian said, his brogue gone. “All I care about is this one.”

  She started to shift away. This was supposed to be a simple hook up, a means to an end. Not anything more. It couldn’t be anything more. They’d both made that clear.

  He smoothed the crease between her brows, his other hand on her hip, keeping her from running. “Don’t panic. I didn’t mean anything by it. We both know what this is.”

  She wasn’t panicking because she thought he might be developing feelings for her, she was panicking because she was developing feelings for him. Stupid. He was leaving. All the more reason to stick to rodeo cowboys.

  He shifted her between his legs, the beginnings of his new-found arousal pressing against her lower belly. His hands slid down and cupped her ass. “How was it for you?”

  By the wicked grin on his face, she knew he was up to something. “What kind of grading system are we looking at and how confident are you?”

  His grin got impossibly wider. “What do you mean?”

  She nipped at his bottom lip, at the stubble on his chin. “I can use a ten-point scale with decimals. A letter grade with pluses and minuses. Or, if you’re scared, I could simply evaluate your performance on a pass/fail basis.”

  “All I need to know is if it was good enough to win a barrel race.” His chuckle died with a hiss as she ground her pelvis against his.

  She trailed kisses up his neck and across his jaw, whispering into his ear, “Maybe we should give it another go, just to be sure.”

  Ian rolled her over, a smooth, seamless motion with none of the fumbling awkwardness from before. He pressed a kiss between her breasts and started working his way down. “I think we should.”

  * * *

  Fresh from Ian’s shower, Cora stepped out of his trailer and into the mid-morning Santa Fe sun, her body buzzed, her smile dazzled, and the pleasant chafe between her legs let her know she’d been well and truly fucked.

  She hurried to her trailer with a spring in her step and a simmering heat at her core that might keep her warm all winter long. As Cora rounded Josephine’s trailer, Josephine stepped out.

  “There you are.” Josephine raised the small garbage bag in her hand. “I guess it’s safe to toss this in the dumpster now.”

  Cora scoffed. “We weren’t that bad.”

  With a bob of he
r chin, Josephine indicated the trailer next to them, a garbage bag lay on the ground by the door. The truck to Cora’s right had a stack of empty beer cans stacked by the rear tire.

  “Yeah, it was,” Josephine said. “But if it makes you feel any better, two people already dropped out of the barrel race tonight, figuring they didn’t have a shot now that your dry spell has ended.”

  Cora laughed. “Did not.”

  Josephine’s sassy smile said otherwise, but Cora still didn’t believe her. Josephine had kept her theory between the two of them—okay, and maybe Silas, but he was back at the Cox ranch where he didn’t have anyone to tell.

  “Soooo...” Josephine drew the word out and threaded her arm through Cora’s as they headed to the barn to take care of the horses. “Was I right about all that runner’s stamina?”

  Josephine wanted the full scoop, but for once Cora didn’t want to talk about her sexcapades. Cora gave Josephine’s shoulder a bump with her own. “I don’t kiss and tell.”

  “Ha. Since when?”

  Cora shrugged, the heat making the slow climb up her neck and settling into her cheeks for what felt like the long haul. She may never have to wear blush again.

  What she and Ian did, what they’d felt—not only in the physical sense, but the emotional as well— left her feeling raw and exposed, yet at the same time desired and cherished. She’d never known it could be like that, and she didn’t want to share.

  “Well?”

  If Cora ever wanted another moment’s peace, she would have to throw her friend a bone. “All I can say is it’s a shame tonight isn’t the money round.”

  Josephine squealed and wrapped Cora in a quick hug. A bunch of heads turned as they entered the barn, and Cora’s left eardrum rang. “You’re back. I know you are.”

  Cora reached for the latch on Panache’s stall as Josephine reached for Comet’s. “You and Comet better watch out, we’ll be gunning for you.”

  “Damn,” Josephine said, though the delight on her face never faltered. “You didn’t say he was that good.”

  “Guess you’ll just have to wait and see.”

  Hours later, the calm that had settled deep into Cora’s bones after having sex with Ian still kept her mind clear and nerves settled. She warmed Panache up with the quiet confidence of a woman who knew with certainty she and her horse would finish with a qualifying round.

  She felt it.

  Panache felt it.

  When her turn came, she lined Panache up at the end of the alley and nudged him into a gallop, the smile never leaving her face, because in a handful of seconds, everyone in those stands would know it too.

  As Cora and Panache burst past the gate headed for the first barrel, the cheering of the crowd faded to a dull roar and dipped beneath the thump of her heart, the thunder his hooves.

  Dust kicked up as they turned the first barrel, the speed of the run making her eyes water as they shot toward the second barrel. As she started to ease back on the reins, Panache rated his own speed and hugged the second barrel like a long-lost friend.

  Cora didn’t glance down, didn’t fear spudding the barrel with her knee or scraping it with her stirrup. She left Panache to his job and focused on that third barrel, driving him faster.

  With an extra nudge, Panache surged for the third barrel, digging into the turn, his legs scrambling, the dirt flying. On the run back to the finish line, her hat flew off as she stood in the stirrups, her reins and hands high up her horse’s neck pushing harder.

  Then the dark alley swallowed them whole, the scent of hot dogs, cotton candy, and stale beer buried beneath the intoxicating smell of victory.

  Panache slowed and stopped as another horse and rider shot into the arena. Josephine rode over and slid off Comet. She pulled Cora out of the saddle and into a bear hug. “You did it!” When Cora’s feet finally hit the ground, Josephine said, “Was I right, or was I right?”

  Cora laughed at the good-natured I-told-you-so. She didn’t have an issue admitting Josephine had it right all along. Note to self—listen to Josephine.

  “Did you catch my time?” Cora asked.

  “13.84,” Josephine said. “It should hold unless Comet and I beat you.” She wasn’t bragging. Until Cora’s dry spell, all their races had been neck and neck. Cora hated to lose, but if she had to be beat, she wanted it to be by her best friend.

  Over the loud speaker they announced the arena drag and the next five competitors, with Josephine’s name first on the list.

  “You’d better go,” Cora said. “I’m going to cool Panache down. We’ll see you after.”

  “Congrats again.”

  “I owe you one.” Cora turned toward Panache, wrapping her arms around his neck, breathing in the smell of dirt and sweaty horse. His sides still heaved from the run, but when she took his reins over his neck and led him down the concourse, he had a proud spring in his step that matched her own. That was how you ran a barrel race.

  That’s how you stayed in the money.

  Now if only her good luck hump held.

  “Cora,” someone called out.

  She glanced up expecting to see Ian jogging over to her to celebrate her run, but instead of Ian she saw Levi. She glanced around. No Ian. Tamping down on her disappointment, Cora accepted a quick hug from Levi.

  “That was amaz—”

  “There you are,” Patty Bennett, Levi’s newest girl and expert gossip said. She slipped her arm through Levi’s and gave it a possessive tug. “What are you doing talking to her?”

  Patty said it with a raised lip, the kind you get when you step in dog shit and are trying to figure out how to get the stench off.

  Levi closed his eyes and blew out a breath before glancing back at Patty. “I was just—”

  “You’re with me now, remember? The one who doesn’t poke holes in condoms.”

  I don’t need this shit. Cora clucked to Panache, heading for the outdoor arena to cool him down. Levi put a staying hand on her arm, and to Patty said, “Give us a minute.”

  Cora hardly recognized Levi’s thin tone, the one that said the normally laid-back man hung at the end of his tether by his teeth, his patience all but shattered.

  Patty’s glare went from Levi to Cora and back again. “You know she’s with that photographer dude now, right?”

  “Enough. You—” Levi cut himself off.

  What a shame. Cora was dying to hear what he was going to say. Lucky for Patty, Levi wouldn’t humiliate someone for the hell of it. Patty didn’t deserve him.

  “I’ll meet you at the truck,” Levi finally told Patty. When she’d left, he said to Cora, “You looking for Ian?”

  Cora stopped her scan of the under-bleacher crowd. “What? No. I was just...” Just looking for Ian.

  Ian had never said he’d see her after the race. He had his own work to do. His own dreams to chase. She knew his life didn’t evolve around her. Still didn’t mean that smidge of disappointment didn’t curdle like spoiled milk in her belly.

  “Sorry about Patty,” Levi said. “She gets a little jealous.”

  “She has no reason to be jealous. You and I have been over for a while. We’ve both moved on.”

  “Yeah,” Levi said, his eyes shifting, then came back. “About that. I was thinking, if things don’t work out with—”

  “There you are. I got your hat,” Ian called out as he and his camera rounded a corner. He slung an arm around her neck and gave her a big smacking kiss on her temple, plopping her hat onto her head as little grains of arena dirt rained down. “You were a super star. I guess Josephine was right after all.”

  “Right about what?” Levi’s tone fell flat, his gaze shifting between Cora and Ian as if either he hated being left out, or as if he hated being interrupted. Cora couldn’t be sure.

  “Oh, hey, Levi.” Ian held out his hand. Then Ian must have clued in on Levi’s body language, on the thin press of Levi’s lips, on the hands on his hips and the granite gaze he’d leveled on Ian. “Ah, am I in
terrupting? I could—”

  “Can you give us a minute?” Cora asked Ian.

  “Naw. It’s okay.” Levi said, as he leaned in and gave Cora a peck on the cheek. “I need to go. I’m really happy for you, Cora. I just wanted to come congratulate you.”

  Cora watched Levi walk away. Had he been going to ask her to get back together? That would be nuts. They’d had a lot of good times together and he’d been a hell of a lot of fun in bed, yet even with that, there hadn’t been real hurt feelings on her end after they’d broken up. That’s how Cora knew that despite what a great catch Levi was, he was one fish she’d been glad had spit the hook.

  Ian fell into step beside her and walked with her around and around the outside arena as Panache’s breathing slowed and his sweat dried. Around them, other riders warmed up and cooled down their mounts.

  “I’ve got a question about this sex theory of Josephine’s,” Ian asked after they’d made several rounds.

  “What’s that?”

  “Is it a one and done thing? Like you don’t need me anymore because you’re cured?” Was that disappointment in his voice? Then he got this criminally cocky smile. A smile that made her insides quiver and made her want to climb his body like a stripper pole. “Or will there be a need for... ongoing maintenance?”

  Cora stopped abruptly, and a rider skirted to the side, with an irritated, “On your left.”

  She took Ian’s hand and dragged him from the arena and over by one of the paddocks holding the roping steers. A scraggly patch of frost-burned grass lined the fence and Panache started munching.

  Leaning back against the rails, she said, “Like all high-performance equipment, I’m afraid occasional maintenance may be required.”

  Ian stepped between her legs and lifted the hat off her head, his voice low and near her ear when he said, “Lucky for you I was a grease monkey in my previous life. I can keep you lubed up...”

  He traced his tongue across her bottom lip, making her breath hitch. “I can keep your wheels spinning...”

  He ducked back in for another quick taste, with a teasing flick of his tongue. She groaned, and her hands went to his hips, guiding him until she could straddle his leg. “Your engine humming...”