Rocky Mountain Desire: Six Pack Ranch, Book 3

by Arend, Vivian

  “I didn’t think you… I mean, it’s just… I thought, maybe…” She squeezed her eyes closed and hoped she hadn’t mucked it all to hell and back. “Someone brought it up.”

  Matt dragged a hand over his mouth then shook his head in frustration. “Tell me. Helen?”

  She was ashamed she’d given into the doubts. Let the horrible seeds her sister had planted grow so quickly. “I’m sorry.”

  Matt caught her by the back of the neck and pressed his lips to her forehead. He held her, stilled her. Controlled her and let her know he wasn’t angry just by the way he touched her.

  He dropped his forehead against hers. “She told me that you’d be asking. When she accosted me in the back hall? Said that it was your idea in the first place for her to ask me to arrange a threesome between us.”

  Hope sucked in air.

  He didn’t let go. Didn’t let her run away from him. Her anger was there, burning at her sister in a brand-new way. “She’s wrong. Totally and completely wrong.”

  “I know.”

  Matt tilted her head to reach her better, kissing her eyelids, brushing a row of gentle caresses across her face.

  They were alone, and yet not. Through the open door she saw his brothers with Zoë, heard the noises of pleasure they made. Watching still turned her on, and now that he’d assured her sharing wasn’t in his plans, she wanted nothing more than to allow him to take the reins.

  He’d asked for one thing already. She could give him that.

  Hope reached behind her and opened the hooks of her bra. The cups fell away and she was exposed, firelight trailing in the doorway to flicker over her. A faint memory of dancing in front of the gang flashed back—she’d had on the teeny seashell cups then, and basically her undies—it wasn’t the first time she’d been nearly naked in public. She wasn’t in public, but they weren’t completely private either. The door might be open, but she doubted Jesse or Joel would bother looking their way.

  But it was different than being alone in her apartment or Matt’s trailer. What made it so much more meaningful this time was Matt, who stared as if he was a starving man and she was the first full meal he’d seen in days.

  Inspiration hit—along with the desire to be a little more risqué. Behind them the twins were working on a very pleased woman, if the sounds rising from their direction were any indication. They wouldn’t care.

  She stood and shimmied off Matt’s lap. A furrow appeared between his brows for a moment, confusion over what she was doing. Hope cupped her breasts and started a slow undulation of her hips, rocking from side to side. Matt’s eyes lit up, and he leaned back, his gaze darting over her. His stare hovered on her fingers when she lowered them to the snap on her jeans. Popped it open. Peeled the fabric down. Twisting and turning and baring her ass as she pivoted and preened.

  She stepped forward clad only in her undies, and Matt grasped her hips, tugging her closer. He slipped to the floor, working his way along the line of her panties, licking with tiny butterfly-soft strokes. Then he grabbed the fabric in his teeth and tugged.

  Hope laughed. “Let me help you.”

  Another twirl allowed her to strip bare. She was close enough he kept his hands on her, the warmth of his palms heating her up. When she was vertical, he took control and adjusted until his mouth and her sex were directly in line.

  The first touch of his tongue through her curls made her gasp. The next moment the gentle exploration grew more intense, and he spread her with one hand and thrust his tongue in deep, eating her hungrily.

  Over his shoulder Hope clearly saw the twins both making love to Zoë, her blonde hair flying as they moved on either side, one being ridden, one riding her ass. A curl of desire tightened inside, and Hope had to admit the sight was hot. But as she threaded her fingers through Matt’s hair, confirmation that all she wanted was him hit strong and true.

  She closed her eyes and ignored everything but the crazy-violent passion surging through her veins because of the man giving so willingly to her.

  Another stroke of his tongue. Another. Matt pressed a finger into her and did some twisty thing, and stars floated in front of her closed eyes. Hope widened her stance, pushing her hips forward. She thrust against his mouth rhythmically to try and find the final edge she needed. She cupped her breasts and pinched her nipples, loving the physical excitement that rippled around her. Matt sucked hard on her clit, abrading his teeth over it, and the first wave of pleasure approached.

  “Oh yeah. Matt…”

  He added another finger to the first, the thick digits pushing her over the top. Full, and breaking apart, Hope sighed happily as her climax surged through her.

  He kept on for a moment, slowing a little, then brought her down to his lap. She was shocked to find he’d opened his jeans and her ass landed on his strong thigh muscles, her still-pulsing sex nestled against his erection.

  “Hmm, what’s this?”

  Matt laughed. “If I have to tell you, you’ve not been paying attention. Now put me inside you, darling. I’m dying here.”

  Hope lifted her hips and slid forward, rocking over his shaft. The broad head slipped through her folds, hard and wonderful, and she pressed down slowly, the exquisite sensation of him filling her too good to rush.

  “Hmm. There we go. Now lift up on your knees so I can reach those beauties.”

  Somehow Matt kept his hips pumping steadily, his cock sliding lazily in and out of her pussy as he gave one breast then the other his attention, licking and biting, driving her quickly toward another release. Over his shoulder, the twins were still playing with Zoë, but the sight had grown blurry, as if seen through a thick fog. Matt’s lovemaking was powerful and addictive, and infinitely distracting. She didn’t care what was happening back in the main room.

  She understood the attraction of voyeurism a bit better, but when the main event was so incredible, she didn’t need anything but him.

  Matt picked up his pace, shifting her hands to his shoulders. “Hold on tight.”

  Then he grabbed her hips and she clung to him, riding him like a bucking bronco. Thick and hot, his cock pierced her again and again. Matt dropped a hand between her legs and caught hold of her clit, pressing the little nub.

  Climax slammed into her as she screamed his name.

  Matt groaned out his release, driving upward and pinning them together, groins grinding as he pulsed into her depths, his firm abdomen rubbing her clit and extending the aftershocks.

  It was a good thing he held her upright, or she would have puddled to the ground. There was a cry from the main room, but the urge to peek simply wasn’t there.

  Matt caught her chin in his hand and kissed her, hard. His body and hers still connected, his tongue taking possession of her just like his body had claimed hers.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Hope parked her truck and cursed at the horrible noises it made as the final rumble of the engine died away.

  It seemed her temporary wheels were fast becoming just that. She probably shouldn’t have used it to drag race through the mud a week ago, but it wasn’t as if the truck was a classic or anything. She’d have to find something else to drive, and soon, but so far she hadn’t had much luck.

  She hopped out and headed around to the passenger side, chuckling to herself. If she was honest, she hadn’t been looking too hard. Between the shop, the raffle and everything else she was doing—like spending tons of time with Matt—she’d neglected to look for new wheels. Only with the ominous noises it had just made? She’d better move the search up the to-do list.

  She pulled open the door and reached in for her grocery bags, hooking up all four at one time. That meant she had to use her hip to close the door. She gasped as she turned and looked up into Clay’s smiling face.

  “Let me give you a hand.”

  She couldn’t justify pulling away, so Hope let him take a couple bags. “What’re you doing here?”

  Clay stepped ahead of her easily. “Waiting for you.”<
br />
  Really? “Why?”

  He grinned. “Got a lead on a car for you. I’ve got the details in my back pocket. Let me show you.”

  Perfect timing. “Affordable? Reliable?”

  “Not a tank?” Clay laughed. “Let’s get these into your place then I’ll show you.”

  Hope hurried up the stairs, excited at the prospect of getting to drive something that didn’t take two blocks planning to turn around. She unlocked the door and dropped her groceries on the table, pointing for Clay to do the same. “Mondays as a day off is a wonderful thing, but I put way too much on my plate at times. So? Show me.”

  Clay pulled out a paper covered with notes. “Sorry, my handwriting isn’t very good. I’ll help.”

  He stepped beside her. All her concentration focused on the information on the page. Low enough mileage, the make looked good.

  She pointed to the numbers. “What’s that say?”

  Clay bent over and examined his handwriting closer. “Seven thousand, but I think we could talk him down. It’s old man Shedwick—he’s buying a new car for his wife and didn’t get offered enough as a trade. I’m pretty sure I can find out what they offered him. If you suggest a price between what he’s asking and that, he’ll take it.”

  Sheer willpower kept both feet on the floor she was so excited. “This is perfect. Thank you, so much. I can’t tell you how much it means to me.”

  Clay stepped in front of her, his body trapping her against the fridge, and suddenly the position they were in felt far too confining. “It’s the least I could do.”

  Hope planted a hand on his chest, intending to open up space between them, but he closed the gap faster than she could retreat. His mouth was on hers and she protested loudly. Or as loudly as she could without air. His bulk held her in place, his arms confining.

  Hope simultaneously bit down and lifted her knee as hard as she could.

  Clay folded in two, backing away as if she was a wild cat. One hand stretched out to form a blockade, the other between his legs cupping his balls. He gasped for air, his sputtering proof her knee had made direct contact. For a second she thought he might drop to the floor, but he caught himself, his free hand clutching one knee hard.

  Hope scooted to the far side of the kitchen near the door, ready to run if necessary. Only Clay wasn’t coming after her. He groaned a few more times before grimacing.

  “What the hell is wrong with you?” he squeezed out, the words broken by his gasps.

  She’d kicked him hard enough to make a real difference.

  “What the hell is wrong with you?” she challenged back. “You bring me information on a car and then maul me? Did you expect I’d just fall into bed with you for that?”

  “But you left a message. God damn, Hope, stop playing games.”

  “I never left any message. Not since the last time we did a quilting lesson for the raffle.”

  Clay shook his head. He planted a hand on the counter and shoved himself a bit more vertical, pausing to wipe a hand across his mouth. He examined his fingers as if expecting to find blood. “You called. Said you hoped I was still interested in spending some time with you. It was a damn tempting message too. Dirty, explicit.”

  What? “I’m seeing Matt. Why would I say such things?”

  “Don’t bitch at me. I’m not an idiot—ah, hell. This is fucked up. I didn’t mean to…” Clay shook his head. “Someone’s played me for a fool.”

  Helen.

  “Oh, Clay. I can guess who. I’m sorry, but I’m not interested in anything but the car. Things are good with Matt and me. I’m sorry you—”

  What could she say?

  He laughed bitterly. “Maybe I am kind of stupid. I fell for it. Should have known better.”

  Hope grabbed a washcloth and wet it for him. She handed it over with an apology. “Sorry about your mouth. And…”

  He lifted a brow, the cloth pressed to his lip. “Sorry about my balls? In spite of being embarrassed, I’m glad to know you aren’t shy about defending yourself.”

  She was totally mortified now, for a whole new set of reasons. And totally furious as well. “My sister has moved past the point of being annoying to the point of being dangerous. I could have really hurt you. Or this could have ended badly.”

  Clay nodded, slowly easing himself upright. Another groan escaped. “She’s a bitch. Sorry—related to you and all, but it’s the truth.”

  Hope paced back into the living room. “I don’t know what to do about her. I thought I made it clear that my life was my own.”

  “Obviously not.” Clay staggered forward a step. “I gotta sit down.”

  She didn’t offer an arm or anything as he made his way to the couch—figured that would only make his humiliation worse. She did hit the fridge and grab him a drink, as well as soaking the cloth again and returning it.

  He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. “Don’t sit there looking at me. It’s awkward enough to know someone a foot shorter than me brought me to my knees that easily.”

  Hope turned away, hiding her grin. It wasn’t funny. It wasn’t. “I am so—”

  “Sorry? Don’t be. I shouldn’t have come on so strong. Just something about Matt rubs me the wrong way and when I thought I had the green light?” Clay’s eyes popped open. “Shit. You think your sister is bent on making trouble between you and Matt?”

  “Looks that way.”

  Oh no.

  His hint registered the same moment Clay pointed to the phone. “If she goes for the obvious, you might want to give Matt a call.”

  His phone rang for the tenth time in the past hour. Matt cussed louder, but otherwise ignored the call like he had all the previous times. It wasn’t a familiar family ring, which meant there was no emergency worth freeing his hands from the mud and muck he was elbow deep in. Should have turned the damn thing off completely.

  By the time he had scrubbed himself clean, there were more messages waiting. He jumped into his truck and started through them en route to town to pick up supplies. He’d grab a quick burger, maybe stop in at Hope’s for a minute if she was free for lunch.

  When Helen’s voice came over the line, he was tempted to delete the rest of the bloody messages all unheard. All her words weren’t understandable—slurred a little at times, and again, he couldn’t figure out if she was drunk or high on something.

  She didn’t make a lot of sense in the first couple messages, but by the third, her intent was clear enough.

  “You might want to ignore me, but it’s for your own good. There’s something funny going on. I was headed to work and happened to notice there’s a strange truck parked outside Hope’s place. She’s off work today, isn’t she?”

  It was enough. Matt clicked erase, then turned the phone off altogether. Helen continued to amaze him. As if he’d believe anything she had to tell him, especially about her sister.

  Pulling into the Stitching Post parking lot and seeing Clay’s truck there—the shot of anger that arrived was infuriating, but more at himself for continuing to have such a strong reaction to the ass. He didn’t doubt Hope, but there had better be a damn good reason for Clay to come sniffing around where he knew he wasn’t welcome.

  Matt bounded up the steps at full speed, surprised to have the door swing open without using his key. Even more shocked to round the corner to find Clay sprawled on the couch, one hand rising toward Matt as if in surrender.

  “Whatever you heard, it’s not what you think.”

  The full-fledged pissed-off response that flashed anytime Clay was around was tempered by the guy’s instant submissive stance. He didn’t bluster like usual. Instead, he kinda folded himself up and guarded his torso.

  Hope rose from where she’d been sitting, pretty much as far away from Clay as she could possibly get and still be in the same room. “Matt. Clay found me a car.”

  She sputtered to a halt.

  Clay and Matt exchanged glances. What the hell?

  She shook her head and
growled. “Ahhh, dammit, now she’s making my brain crazy. Matt, Clay is here because not only did he potentially find me a car to replace Goliath the monster truck, my sister has continued her Wicked Witch of the West imitation. Clay didn’t do anything wrong.”

  Her insistence made no sense. “I didn’t say he did.”

  Hope opened and shut her mouth a few time. “Right.”

  “Helen called and pretended to be Hope.” Clay leaned forward and grimaced, shifting his hips uncomfortably. Matt stared for a second, trying to figure out exactly why that move looked so familiar.

  “Helen called you?”

  Clay nodded. “I usually have call display, but I just switched servers and haven’t set up the new system. She left a voice mail—said I should come over and she’d make sure I felt a lot more welcome than the last time we’d gotten together.”

  The urge to chuck Clay’s carcass out of the apartment was tempered by rising confusion. Even though this situation was fucked up, why hadn’t Hope come and greeted him yet?

  “I see. So, now you know she isn’t interested.” Matt turned to Hope. “You get the details about the car? So you can call and look into it?”

  Hope nodded, still hesitating on the far side of the room.

  Fucking hell.

  Matt looked down at Clay. “Thanks for the tip. We’ll deal with Helen. If you don’t mind keeping this quiet for a bit? I’m not sure what we’re going to do, but until we decide, we’d appreciate you not spilling the beans all around town.”

  Clay levered himself vertical, hips remaining lopsided as he took a couple staggering steps then caught his balance. “No problem. Like I told Hope, not the sort of thing I’d go boasting about. I’d prefer to win attention raising money for the charity. Speaking of which, you Colemans working on your entry for the raffle or did you give up?”

  The damn quilt. Matt had hoped everyone would forget his impulsive signup for the auction. Travis and Blake had both given him so much grief when he’d mentioned it, he’d avoided the topic ever since. “No worries. You guys—?”

  “Nearly done.” Clay limped across the room and pulled his jacket on. “Hell, we might be the first ones finished, right, Hope?”