Cowboy Redeemed

by Parker Kincade

  Shit. The sooner the better it seemed. Before he had to break up a fight and ruin what was left of his night. So much for wanting to take it slow.

  “So?” Her tone dripped with expectation.

  He laughed at her impatience. “What do you have in mind?”

  “If I’ve got to spell it out, cowboy, maybe we should part ways now while there’s still time to find other company.”

  Clay’s reaction was immediate. Visceral. His blood heated, heart pumped, muscles tightened in preparation to challenge any man who thought to touch what belonged to him. She didn’t belong to him, of course. The idea was utterly ridiculous. He didn’t even know her name. But he hadn’t not-so-covertly checked her out all night—enjoyed the smooth escalation of arousal she provoked—only to give some other asshole the satisfaction of making her come.

  Fuck no.

  She’d chosen him. And he sure as hell wanted her. Wanted her taste on his tongue. Wanted to sink into her. Wanted to hear her moan his name. Repeatedly.

  She wasn’t his, but her pleasure belonged to him. Hell yeah it did.

  He stood. “My truck’s right outside.” He towered over her, and because he had to, his fingertips skimmed her cheek on their way to cup the back of her neck. Her skin was so warm and soft he almost groaned.

  There was no denying the shiver that went through her as he bent and put his mouth to her ear. Clay’s ego hoped his touch was the cause, but just in case, he reassured her. “You’re safe with me, sweetheart. Whatever you want. It’s your show.”

  He nuzzled her hair. Goddamn. He’d just developed a new love for oranges.

  Her voice wavered. “If you don’t want—”

  “Oh, I want.” Clay tugged her to her feet and didn’t stop until she was flattened against his chest. His arms draped around her. He added a little pressure against her lower back. “You feel that? Does that feel like I don’t want you?”

  Clay saw her confidence return. Her eyes darkened and her voice turned sultry smooth. Her nails bit into his chest.

  “Whatever I want, huh?”

  “As long as it doesn’t involve anyone but us, or end with my naked ass in a jail cell, I’m game.”

  “Nothing like that. Just a no-strings, one-time-only deal.”

  Her blushes were damn near killing him. “Just once, huh? You don’t strike me as a one-time-only kind of girl.”

  Her stubborn chin rose as she met his gaze head on. “You don’t know me.”

  He suddenly wanted to. Very much. “You do this a lot then?” he goaded. “Pick up strange men in bars?”

  Tiny lines appeared between her delicate brows as her lips thinned into a flat line. “Not that it’s any of your business, but no.”

  The subtle display of feminine temper had him wondering what she’d be like if she really cut loose. There was a wildcat hidden in there, he just knew it.

  “Why, then?” he heard himself ask.

  What the hell was wrong with him? He loved sex. What guy didn’t? He’d never needed a reason to fuck before. He shouldn’t need one now.

  Maybe it was her sweet smile, or the vulnerability he sensed lurking just below the surface. Maybe it was the longing in her eyes. Whatever the hell it was, she had his protective instincts working overtime.

  “First time for everything, right?”

  Never one for games, Clay held his ground. “Try again.”

  “Look, cowboy. If you’d been the one to come to me, you wouldn’t ask me why I’d have sex with you. You’d simply ask me to get naked. You think because I’m a woman I shouldn’t ask for what I want? I’m unattached and looking to relieve a little stress. Figured you might be interested. Was I wrong?”

  Jesus, he liked this woman. And he’d really like to stop thinking of her as this woman. “You got a name, sweetheart?”

  She went up on her toes and nipped his chin. “Of course I do, but you don’t need to know it. One time, no strings.”

  The contact fueled the fire in his blood as her words sparked his irritation.

  “Oh, no. You want no strings, fine. I’ll play your little game.” Except he wouldn’t agree to the one-time deal. He didn’t have to get her naked to know once wouldn’t be enough to get his fill, but he’d concede to no strings if it was what she needed.

  Hell, it was what he needed. Strings meant complications. Why would he want to invite that kind of thing into his life? Just because his older brothers were ridiculously happy in their relationships didn’t mean Clay had to follow suit. His life was fine. Damn near perfect, in fact.

  Clay loved being a rancher. His family had owned Shadow Maverick Ranch for generations. He was proud to be a part of it. He rarely thought about what it would be like to have a spread of his own, to have his own legacy to pass down to the sons he hoped to have someday—when the right woman came along.

  “Well?”

  Did his right woman have expressive, blue-green eyes, and a body that fit perfectly against his?

  Fuck. “I’ve got a condition of my own. Give me your name.”

  Her eyelids lowered, and she toyed with a button on his shirt. “You don’t have to do that.”

  “Do what?”

  “Act like this is more than it is.”

  “I asked for your name, sweetheart, not for your hand in marriage.” Although the idea of getting hitched wasn’t as abhorrent as it would’ve been a few hours ago.

  Clay kept his expression passive as she considered him. Miss One-Night-Stand would run like a scared rabbit if she guessed where his thoughts had gone. Maybe he should be the one hightailing it.

  “Ainsley,” she sighed. “My name is Ainsley Russell.”

  Chapter Three

  Three seconds.

  That was how long it took the sexy cowboy to release her and step away.

  Wow. Ainsley had been rejected before, but his speed at doing so had to be a personal record.

  Men went for the pretty ones. Women who spent time on things like hair, makeup, pretty clothes, and shoes. Feminine women. Women with soft hands.

  Ainsley’s hands weren’t soft. She didn’t own a single dress. And the highest heel she’d ever had on her feet were on the boots she wore around the ranch.

  She’d understand if the cowboy had seemed disinterested. He hadn’t. So being shut down because of her name? That left her feeling all kinds of what the hell?

  She wasn’t anyone special. A girl from nowhere who’d inherited a failing ranch from an uncle she hadn’t known. An uncle by marriage. A man named Lawrence Nelson, or so she’d been told.

  Mr. Sutherland had called her a gypsy. He hadn’t been far off. Ainsley hadn’t known anyone in her family. Not her parents. Not aunts or cousins, and certainly not an uncle-by-marriage. Oh no. Her life had been a series of bad foster homes and even worse luck. With her history, she shouldn’t be so surprised the mere sound of her name had been enough to cut the heat on Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome.

  Aside from the rejection, at least the night hadn’t been a total loss—her pool game hadn’t deserted her. She’d be able to eat for the next couple of weeks without digging into her operational funds.

  Ainsley took the wins where she could get ’em.

  She should’ve just taken her money and gone home. Not tested her fragile prosperity by giving in to her body’s need for the warmth of another human being. But goddamn it. The cowboy was seriously hot. And for one brief moment, Ainsley wanted to feel as if she weren’t alone.

  Pretending wouldn’t change the facts. She was alone, fighting to make a life for herself and for the ranch she hadn’t known she wanted.

  She sighed. Time to go.

  Ainsley tilted her head to look him in the eye. “This was a mistake.” God, the man was tall. Intimidating. And staring at her mouth as though he either didn’t understand English, or he was thinking about kissing her.

  In one swift motion, he jerked the hat from his head and ran fingers through a mess of thick black hair. “Aren’t you going to as
k who I am?”

  She stared at him, wondering what difference it would make. His image would haunt her as it was. His powerful build. The tattoo covering a good portion of his right forearm and disappearing under the rolled-up sleeves of his black button down. His cocky grin showing off a row of pearly whites. Tack on his dark eyes and unshaven jaw … god. Knowing his name would only add insult to injury.

  It would make his rejection too … personal.

  “Nope.” Ainsley turned to leave. His hand shot out to encircle her wrist.

  “Clayton.” At his insistent tug, Ainsley turned back to face him.

  “Okay, Clayton.” As though that should mean anything to her. “You want to explain to me what just happened?” And why his rejection hurt so much? Jesus, she’d been tossed aside all her life. Why this man had the power to hurt her where so many others had failed was beyond comprehension.

  His hardened gaze nailed her in place. “Mathis,” he bit out. “I’m Clayton Mathis.”

  Ainsley gawked up at him as the name registered. How had she missed it? His face was so similar to Gavin’s it was a wonder she hadn’t made the connection before now.

  You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. Of all the… Of course he was Clayton Mathis. True to history, Ainsley’s luck was right on target. Why else would the sexiest cowboy she’d ever seen turn out to be the same fucking one who’d been trying to steal her ranch?

  Okay, steal might be a tad dramatic. Clayton’s brother had been relentless in pursuit of her property, but he hadn’t actually done anything illegal. Not that it mattered. The ranch was hers. She’d be damned before she’d let anyone take it from her. Problem was, if her loan didn’t come through, there wasn’t much she could do to stop it.

  Ainsley closed her eyes and took a deep breath, hating how out of control she felt. “Let me go.”

  “No.”

  Her body reacted with alarming speed to the firm response. Her skin pebbled, her breasts grew heavy, and her pussy clenched tight. Ainsley jerked her arm. “I told you this was a mistake.” Another tug. Clayton’s hold was unrelenting.

  “Stop, Ainsley. You’re going to hurt yourself.”

  Her belly fluttered at hearing her name spoken in his husky drawl. So sexy. So dangerous to her resolve. “Then let. Me. Go.”

  He sighed. “Are you going to take off on me?”

  “That’s the plan.”

  “Then, no.” Amusement flickered in his warm, chocolate gaze.

  Ainsley held her temper in check. She’d had plenty of practice dealing with annoying men. She loosened her muscles and took a step toward him. She raised her unshackled hand and placed her palm against his chest. Warm, solid muscle flexed under her touch. She glanced up at him through her lashes. “I’ll promise not to walk away if you let me go.” She didn’t promise not to run, though.

  He clasped her free wrist, effectively binding her against him. “Nice try, but it’s not gonna happen. We’re going to sit back down, all civil-like, and have a chat.”

  Her nipples tightened to tender points. Her wrists burned under the heat of his hands. She imagined him holding her down, taking what he needed as he gave her the same. Hard. Fast. Complete. Her throat tightened. “I didn’t come here to chat,” she choked out.

  His hungry, knowing smile stole her breath.

  “Right. You came here to fuck.” He leaned in until his breath tickled her skin. Her eyes drifted closed as he traced the shell of her ear with his tongue and nibbled her lobe. “We’ll get to that part, Ainsley. Believe me.”

  She wanted to believe him. Wanted to lose herself in his wicked promise. She’d been around long enough to hear of his reputation for being a player, for not getting attached, and that certainly suited her needs.

  He trailed his lips down the side of her neck, placing an open-mouthed kiss where her pulse beat heavy in her throat. Ainsley’s knees weakened when he sucked then gently nipped the sensitive skin. With very little effort, he’d found her weak spot. As though he’d instinctively known where to go to get what he wanted.

  Her land.

  Her home.

  Ainsley growled her frustration. He didn’t want her—he wanted her compliant in order to convince her to sell.

  She shoved him. The big brute didn’t even budge. Breathless from his sensual assault, she cleared her throat and prayed her voice wouldn’t shake.

  “I didn’t come here to fuck, you jerk. I came here to—” She clamped her lips shut. Oh no. Her cash flow problems weren’t his business. She wasn’t about to give him more ammunition.

  “Came here to what? Swindle innocent cowboys out of their money?”

  “I’m just having a good time like everyone else,” she hedged. “Is it my fault those boys suck at pool? And that bunch is hardly innocent, I assure you. If you’d heard the offers a couple of them made…” Ainsley shook her head, feigning regret. “Looks like I made the wrong choice.”

  Clayton’s expression darkened—intoxicating hunger receding to angry male. “I’m going to assume you meant no offense.”

  “Assume all you like. It won’t change the end result. Even if you weren’t the most annoyingly arrogant man I’ve ever met, your family wants my ranch.” The only home Ainsley ever had.

  “Since when did it become a crime to want to buy property? People do it all the time.”

  If only things were that simple. Ainsley was hanging on by the skin of her teeth. The vultures were circling, waiting to swoop in and take everything away from her.

  Ainsley had a real chance to put down roots here. She was out of her league, but she was smart. She worked hard. And she never went down without a fight.

  “If you think sleeping with me is going to get you closer to your goal, you’re dead wrong. You can’t have my land, and you won’t have me.”

  His lips quirked. “You’re the one who started this, sweetheart. Or have you forgotten? I’ll bet you haven’t. I’ll bet your hot little body craves what I can give it, just as mine craves yours.”

  The air turned stifling hot. No man had ever craved her before. Ainsley struggled to breathe through the sexual energy radiating from the rugged cowboy and shooting straight to her core.

  Her body knew she hadn’t chosen wrong. The evidence of his arousal pressed against her belly, feverish and hard. She could almost feel the impressive length stretching her, filling her. The warmth of his mouth on her breasts. His calloused hands on her skin. It had been so long. Her body ached to be touched.

  And Clayton Mathis was the last cowboy she should let touch her.

  “Sit down, Ainsley.” He directed her back to her chair, releasing her only as her butt hit the seat.

  Ainsley rubbed her wrists. He hadn’t hurt her. Quite the contrary. The heat from his grip lingered as if he’d branded her.

  “Are all you Mathis boys bullies?” she snapped, willing her body to chill the hell out.

  Clayton frowned. “I know my brother can come on strong. Has he said or done anything to hurt you?”

  The genuine concerned that wrinkled his handsome brow threatened to melt her heart. No one had ever cared about her before. Only that she stayed quiet and out of the way. When she hadn’t, no one cared about the hurt that followed.

  She didn’t know what to do with the emotions rioting inside her: anger, need, wonder. She stared at her lap. His boots. The legs of the chair he moved closer to her. The strong thighs suddenly bracketing her knees.

  A warm knuckle lifted her chin. “Ainsley? Has Gavin done something I should know about?”

  As if she were any of Clayton’s concern. She swallowed back the longing that had plagued her for as long as she could remember. She jerked her face away from his touch. “Not that it matters, but no. He’s a pain in my ass, nothing more.”

  “What do you mean? Of course it matters.”

  This was ridiculous. Clayton didn’t really care about her. The longer she sat there and pretended he could, the more trouble she’d cause herself later. She should le
ave. “You mean to tell me if I said your brother had hurt me in some way, you’d believe it?”

  He took her hands in his, cradling them against her thighs. His thumbs brushed over her knuckles. “Do I believe Gavin would intentionally cause you any harm? No, I don’t. He’s a good man. I’m saying Gavin and I would have a conversation about it. I’m saying if there’s offense, I’d make it right. Gavin would make it right.”

  The man continued to shock her. Which, Ainsley was certain, was the only reason she remained in the chair instead of heading out the door.

  What would it be like to have that kind of belief in someone? To love so unconditionally?

  “Why would you do that?”

  He traced the sensitive skin between her fingers, one after the other, as he embarked on a gentle exploration of her hands.

  A rush of pleasure followed each stroke, leaving behind tiny bumps along her skin.

  He shrugged. “I just would.”

  Damn him. Because he was trying to soften her toward his family. Because they wanted something from her.

  She jerked her hands away. “Great. Thanks. I appreciate the sentiment, but I can handle my own affairs.”

  His wicked grin was back. “Can you now?”

  “Yes, I can. And that means we’ve got nothing left to say.”

  “Come on, Ainsley. You’re blowing this out of proportion. I’m not the enemy here. The business between you and my brother has nothing to do with me.”

  Clayton didn’t seem the kind of guy who’d have a hard time finding female company. Ainsley could count at least three pairs of eyes glued to the sexy cowboy, and those were just from the table next to them. No doubt he could walk out of here with any woman he wanted, and probably would once he realized his hard-sell approach wouldn’t work for him any more than it had worked for Gavin.

  “Are you joking? Your name is Mathis, right?”

  His stubborn chin rose. “And damn proud of it. That doesn’t mean I get involved in Gavin’s business.”

  Right. “You have no interest whatsoever?”

  “Interest. Involved. Two different things. The herd is my business. Whether it’s four hundred head, or forty thousand, makes me no never mind. I go where the cattle are, darlin’. Gavin takes care of the rest.”