“I’m going to come!” she sobbed. Thrashing her head from side to side, she dug her elbows into the bed to keep herself from sliding away from him. Again his cock slammed into her, sliding hotly along her inner tissues, wetly sanding countless nerve endings. “Damn, damn.”
“Already?”
Not caring whether she might hurt him, she dug her nails into his flesh. Close. So damn close! Release just out of reach.
No! He couldn’t be leaving her! She needed him; her pussy demanded him. Both terrified and angry, she gripped his elbows and tried to pull him close again. He’d clenched his jaw. His eyes were the barest of slits, and his nostrils flared.
Empty. Nearly deserted.
No!
Hot, wet bulk plowed into her, sliding home like some conquering hero. Beyond anything civilized, she wrapped her legs around his hips and buttocks and made him part of her. When he tried to pull away, she refused to release him. He was hers! She couldn’t climb the mountain without him.
His cock shuddered, twitched, strained.
“Yes!” she gasped. “Yes!”
“Yes!”
Although the damnable rubber caught and contained his cum, her cunt didn’t care. It drank of the gift and grew strong. Took her to the edge. Threw her over.
“Shit. Shit.”
Her muscles still felt as though they’d run a marathon as she watched Cougar dress. She stared at him, not just because she loved the look of him, but because she needed to try to make sense of what had happened. She’d never, absolutely never jumped in bed with a man like this. There’d been no seduction, no candlelit dinner, no whispered sweet nothings. Instead they’d fucked like animals. He was a stallion, a bull, she a mare or cow in heat.
But as powerful as it had been, their fucking hadn’t entirely quieted her need. If he didn’t leave soon—
“You really have to go?”
“Yeah. The bulls—”
“Ah. When will I see you again?”
“Tomorrow.” He stood over her with his unzipped jeans hugging his hips and his shirt open. “Jordan, I didn’t want it to be over so fast, but it’s been a while since I’ve…”
“‘Didn’t want’? Have you been planning this?”
4
T rixie shivered under Jordan. Although she’d anticipated her mare’s nervousness, Jordan couldn’t put her attention fully on distracting the horse from everything going on around them. No matter how resolutely she tried to focus on her upcoming ride, her mind refused to stay in the here and now.
It was evening. Time for the first day of the rodeo to begin. She’d survived the opening ceremonies by making sure she stayed in the middle of the barrel racers where, hopefully, reporters and photographers wouldn’t spot her. Cantering into the arena dressed in her show-only deep red shirt and hat had damn near been her undoing, for one simple reason. The bulls, although not yet loaded into the bucking chutes, were so close she’d smelled and heard them. The usually laid-back, eight-year-old Trixie had bugled and tried to buck. Jordan had had her hands full and might not have been able to keep her mare under control if a couple of men on horseback hadn’t ridden up on either side, effectively squeezing Trixie between them. Their presence must have calmed Trixie because she’d stopped prancing and whistling. The men’s black shirts had identified them as stock handlers, Cougar’s employees.
“Cougar said you might have a bit of trouble with her.” The man on her right had indicated about Trixie. “Asked us to keep an eye on things.”
“I appreciate it. She has more of a memory than I hoped she would.”
“Cougar told us what happened.”
But had he told his men everything? she pondered as she waited for her turn to compete. It didn’t matter—at least, not now, because she was about to do her damnedest to put her own demons behind her. After a year devoted to almost nothing beyond getting to the point where she could compete again, the time had come. That’s what was important, not asking herself for the umpteenth time why she hadn’t seen Cougar so far today. Of course, she’d gone out of her way not to be where she thought he would be, but a considerate man did something to acknowledge the woman he recently bonked, right? Of course that worked both ways, or it would if she had a better handle on her emotions.
Let it go! You’re here to ride.
From where she and the other barrel racers waited just outside the arena, she could barely glimpse the woman currently guiding her galloping horse around the barrels, but yells and clapping left no doubt that the woman was doing well against the clock. A little more than a year ago she had been one of the top competitors and had her share of awards to prove it. But thanks to the damage to her leg, she’d missed the rest of last season and the start of this one. Making up for lost time wasn’t going to be easy—nearly as hard as getting the Brahma-sized monkey off her back.
“Damn that Crystal!” the racer next to her exclaimed. “Thanks to a daddy willing to fork over for the best horses, she’s always going to be a pisser to beat.”
“It’s not just her horses,” another competitor observed. “Crystal goes all out. The damn broad is fearless.”
Fearless? What did that feel like?
When Crystal came cantering back, her face flushed and her smile showing a mouthful of perfect teeth, Jordan applauded. Inside, however, she warred with equal compulsions to rip out Crystal’s hair and beg her to give her some of her fearlessness. Here. Now. Finally. Goal number one met. Number two coming up.
“You’ll do fine. All you have to do is believe in yourself.”
Cougar’s voice rolled over her. For a moment the earth-sized knot in the pit of her stomach eased. Turning toward him, she took in his black outfit, especially the form-fitting shirt with its silver snaps that played up the silver band on his cowboy hat. Even his boots carried out the same theme. Of course his horse was black and a stallion. Not many rodeo participants risked having a tetesterone-charged mount under them, but Cougar easily controlled the wide-eyed, prancing beast.
“I didn’t expect to see you,” she said when, finally, she remembered how to make her voice work. “I thought you had enough to do behind the fences.”
He guided his horse a little closer, and then reined up, keeping the stallion a safe distance from Trixie, who obviously wasn’t in the mood for a suitor. “How are you feeling?”
Pretty much like I’m going to fly off in a million pieces. “Rusty. Practicing at home’s hardly the same as the real thing.”
“At least you’re doing it.” He dropped his gaze to her leg.
“Cougar!” Crystal exclaimed, urging her gelding between Cougar and Jordan. “Fancy seeing you. Are you going to ride? No matter what bull you draw, my money’s on you.”
That’s right, Jordan reminded herself. Cougar had started out in the rodeo business as a bull rider and twice had qualified for the finals. He’d finished high both times, and Harney County residents had boasted of the local boy who’d made good. He hadn’t competed in a while, and she’d assumed it was because the contracting business took too much time.
“Put your money away.” Cougar had been looking at Crystal. Now he returned his attention to Jordan. “Riding’s behind me.”
“You sure you won’t reconsider? There’s nothing like a stud riding a bull to the bell to ring my chimes, if you know what I’m saying.”
Just then the announcer called out the name of the next rider, Kari. Knowing she was set to go after Kari, Jordan shut everything else out of her mind. She’d practiced endlessly on the ranch and had been relieved to learn that she hadn’t lost her skill or timing. Actually competing wasn’t that different from circling the barrels she’d set up herself.
Liar. Cougar wasn’t watching you then. And Rampage wasn’t a short distance away.
Because she rode two-handed when she competed, Jordan had kept only one hand on the reins as she’d walked Trixie in circles prior to entering the arena. The switch had prevented Trixie from anticipating what was coming up.
Now, however, the sturdy mare shivered under her, prompting Jordan to sit back, which shifted Trixie’s weight onto her hindquarters. At the same time, Jordan pressed her calf against Trixie’s right side, indicating she wanted Trixie to continue circling. Then a nod from the timer prompted her to stop. Heart hammering, she waited.
The flag dropped. Leaning low, she urged Trixie into a full-out gallop. The first barrel. Close in on it, slow, lean as much as you can without losing your balance, circle, straighten, aim for barrel number two.
Even as the wind created by Trixie’s hard gallop grabbed her hat, something snagged Jordan’s attention. She couldn’t say what it was, couldn’t make sense of the blur. Bull! her insane instinct insisted. Horse and cowboy, her rational side countered.
Rampage hadn’t gotten loose again. He hadn’t charged into the arena, wasn’t pounding toward her and Trixie. There would be no collision, no terrified and squealing horse being knocked to the ground, no sound of snapping bone.
Ride, damn you! Ride. Barrel number two coming up fast. Slow. Slow. Lean and turn. Straighten. Find number three and head for it.
Once again a blur of movement slammed at her nerves. Once more time buckled back on her. Although it couldn’t be, she heard Rampage bellow, felt herself flying, hitting the ground, Trixie’s weight crushing her. And then, worst of all, staring up at the great Brahma’s churning hooves, thick curving horns, and impossibly powerful chest, knowing she couldn’t move, knowing she was going to be killed.
“Give our young lady a round of applause, ladies and gentlemen!” the announcer yelled. “This is her first time to compete since a serious accident last year, and I know she would appreciate your encouragement.”
Fighting tears and self-disgust, Jordan glanced up at the illuminated time clock. She’d never ridden that slow. Surely there’d been a malfunction. The hell there had!
Her fellow racers applauded when she returned to them, and she forced a rueful smile. Dismounting, she loosened the cinch around Trixie’s belly and rubbed the heavily breathing mare’s forehead. “You done good, old girl. A hell of a lot better than I did. And tomorrow can only be better, right?”
Trixie turned her head to the side and gave Jordan a look she interpreted as It’s up to you. I did my part.
“I know you did. Just be patient with me. There’s something about a head trip that—”
Trixie suddenly back-stepped, compelling Jordan to grip the reins. When the mare stopped tugging, she turned to see what had startled her. She supposed she shouldn’t have been surprised to see Cougar and his black stallion, but tell that to her heart. The way it pounded could only be attributed to shock, right?
“I’m going to be tied up until late tonight.” His too-dark eyes bore down on her, powering through the protective layers she tried to throw up. “You know which is my rig, right? I’ll leave it unlocked. Wait for me.”
Wait in that too-small space smelling of you? Feel your presence on my skin and think about what you’re going to say—and do?
“What for?”
“We need to talk.”
She swallowed. “Just talk?”
“It’s your call.”
Cougar’s personal area had to be twice the side of hers, which helped defuse her claustrophobia. Only, if she was being honest, fear of enclosed spaces had nothing to do with the state of her nerves.
After putting Trixie in her stall and mounting her other mare, she’d returned to the action. Her reason had been twofold; she wanted to get three-year-old Misty used to the sights, sounds, and smells of a rodeo, and watching the other events made it possible for her to take at least part of her mind off her poor performance and what Cougar thought they needed to discuss.
All right. There’d been a third reason. She’d watched Cougar. He’d been in constant action, one moment behind the chutes so he could supervise those people handling the bulls during their event; the next riding pickup in the arena. Like his stallion, he’d seemed tireless. In an environment filled with the most masculine of men, he stood out.
And no matter how hard she’d tried, thoughts of the body beneath the clothes stalked her.
Is that why you’re here? she asked herself. At the moment she was looking through a folder filled with newspaper clippings about the various rodeos for which Cougar supplied bulls. He appeared in only a handful of the photos, too often at a distance. But there was one close-up of him being interviewed, with a pen full of milling Brahmas behind him. His hat was pulled low on his forehead, so she could barely make out his features, but his sweaty shirt clung to every muscle and rib. Damn, she could feel his heat just looking at him.
A sound outside spun her around. Heart hammering, she peered out. Cougar and a short, slim man were standing a short distance away. Cougar glanced at her, and then he turned his attention back to his companion.
“If you can find better hay, see if you can get it delivered tomorrow,” he said. “But I’m guessing this is the best we can do.”
“I’ll get on it at first light.” The sparse and weathered man was looking at her, but she couldn’t guess if he was surprised to see a woman waiting for Cougar. Probably not. “Anything else, chief?”
“Get some sleep.”
“More than you will, that’s for sure,” the man said as he walked away.
“Who was that?” she asked when the silence threatened to drive her crazy.
“Todd Little Deer, but we call him Slim. Not too original. He’s been with me since shortly after I got into the business. He knows what I’m thinking before I do.”
“That’s good, I guess.”
“Sometimes. Let’s go for a walk.”
Although he’d presented it as a simple statement, she recognized the undertone of an order. Instead of refusing, she closed the door behind her. As before, the moment the distance between them disappeared, she felt his power and strength, the testosterone rolling off him. If she’d been a mare in heat, she would have turned her back to him and lifted her tail, signaling her readiness to be bred.
Bred. Carrying Cougar Lighthorse’s child?
“Where—where are we going?”
“To where we both belong.”
5
W hen he first stepped into the large barn with its multitude of stalls, she nearly told him that although he might belong in the space smelling of hay, horses, wood, and leather, there was more to her than a cowgirl. Then the atmosphere closed in around her, and she knew he was right because barns had always been part of her existence. She’d cleaned out countless stalls, repaired or replaced countless boards, hauled in tons upon tons of hay. She felt comfortable here, at home.
“Have you ever wanted anything else?” he asked. The double doors hung open. Faint light slid in through the opening to touch the stalls on either side of the center space. Every stall was occupied, but only two of the horses acknowledged their presence. The rest, worn down from their long day, couldn’t care less.
“Other than being involved with the ranching life? When I went to college I thought a lot about my options, but too many entailed spending my days in an office, living in a city.”
“And you need space.”
“Yeah.” And the chance to prove I haven’t lost my nerve. “What about you?”
He hadn’t touched her tonight. Instead of feeling safer and more self-contained, she ached for the brush of skin against skin. Every molecule of her being was tuned in to him, so much so that she half believed he could see beyond her clothing to breasts, belly, hips, and, mostly, what waited between her legs. Even after her eyes adjusted to the muted light, she still felt isolated from the outside world. There was just them and the unconcerned, warm-bodied horses.
A horse stomped his hoof, shaking her mind loose of whatever spiderweb it had sunk into and reminding her that she’d asked a question that hadn’t been answered. “I’m sure it goes without saying that you need to be where you can see the horizon.” Her voice seemed to echo off the weathered wood.
&n
bsp; “Because I’m Indian?”
“Because you grew up surrounded by nature.” Because she had no choice in the matter, she touched his forearm. Just like that, her flames were fed. “I think it gets in our blood. No matter what people like us do with our lives, we’re not satisfied unless we are surrounded by what was embedded in us as children.”
“You’re philosophical tonight.”
Either that, or something was driving her to lay more of herself before him. Someone might be in the barn, maybe bedded down in a stall with his or her horse, but she didn’t sense the presence of another human. Just him. “It hasn’t been an easy day for me,” she admitted.
“No, it hasn’t.”
She forced her hand back to her side, but it was an uneasy separation. Maybe she wouldn’t have been this aware of him if they hadn’t fucked, but she wouldn’t take bets. Very possibly, he’d touched her hormones in ways they’d never been touched.
“Is—is that what you wanted to talk about?” she asked. “Why the hell my time was so bad?”
“I don’t need to ask. I know why.”
His words were still echoing around her when he took her hand and lifted it to his mouth and touched his lips to her knuckles. A rolling shiver ran from her fingers up her arm and from there down, down until it settled between her legs. Her knees nearly buckled.
“You—you do?”
“I’ve been there.”
His fingers now laced in hers, he lowered their hands so her knuckles brushed his thighs. His warmth, his pulsing warmth, nipped at her.
“Do you recall what the announcer says when he introduces the riding events?”
Incapable of concentrating on anything beyond pounding need, she shook her head.
“He tells the bronc riders to check their gear—and for the bull riders to go behind the chutes and puke.”
Suddenly restless, she drew him into the dark. Hay and wood chips crunched underfoot as they walked, and the scent of animals and weathered wood grew stronger. The barn closed around them, sheltered them and fed her flames.
The Cowboy Page 3