Pretty Lawless

by Jodi Linton

  Now I’m elbow-bumping Colt Larsen while my girl hip butts a damn bull of a man. Probably shouldn’t have asked Laney to seduce the guy wearing the Dale Earnhardt hat. Yet the idea of snagging insider information on Redbud from one of his known associates caused all rationale to fly out the window.

  “Tell me again. Why send Laney in the bull pen?” Colt asked.

  I snorted. “That guy’s a horndog.” Laney giggled and slapped the mark on the shoulder. It pissed me off more than it should have, since I was the one who told Laney to slap the mark on the back when she’d gotten the information. “Really think he would have talked to the likes of us?” I pushed the empty beer toward the bartender, scooted the stool back, and stood. “Now if you’ll excuse me, Larsen,” I addressed the marshal with a hat tip, “I’m gonna go rescue my girl.”

  The jukebox changed over to a slow song, and the guy manhandling the woman that I would one day make the mother of my children slung her arms around his grizzly-bear neck. Enough already. She placed her mouth at his ear and whispered something insanely funny, because her shit-faced dancing partner squeezed them both closer. And, goddamn it, that was my boiling point.

  I reached out a hand and tapped the shoulder of the guy cradling my girl in his arms. “Mind if I step in?” I used one of my self-assured smiles as I watched him eye Laney, then veer back on me.

  Laney gestured at the bar, that southern dream girl look gracing her face, and responded for our now unwelcomed dancing partner. “Sorry, cowboy…but it seems I’m already taken.” She winked and licked those plump red lips.

  My cock stirred, anticipating the attention.

  Smart-ass. Hitching a thumb from a belt loop, I shifted my weight and scowled. “Damn straight you’re already taken.” Then I snagged Laney up by the elbow and pulled her out of I-am-a-redneck-and-start-drinking-after-the-noon-hour man’s arms.

  “Hey, man. She’s with me.” The guy got up in my face.

  I snaked an arm around her waist. “Not anymore.”

  My bedroom partner dug her heel into my boot as she leaned in and brushed my hand off her shoulder. “It’ll only be a minute with the jerk, honey,” she soothed. She grabbed me by the arms and slung them around her neck, pulling us both out onto the dance floor.

  So I’d taken up jerk status again.

  When we’d made it closer to the plywood stage, I pulled Laney flush against my chest, inhaling that intoxicating smell of lavender and strawberries. Damn, she could turn me on just by batting those long eyelashes. I had not expected jealousy to rear its ugly head since I’d sent Laney in on the mission to squeeze whatever information she could out of Redbud’s day workers. But I’d never been much into sharing.

  Dragging my mouth along hers, I sucked that full bottom lip as I nibbled a kiss down her chin, muttering, “Enjoy the hump session?” I lifted an eye to take in the pissed expression slowly spreading across her adorable face.

  Something must be wrong with me, because angry Laney got me even hotter.

  Hands clamped around my shoulders. “If you’re curious if the guy was packing a roll of quarters…” She pressed her mouth against my ear and rubbed that Lord’s-gift-to-mankind rack against my chest. A harsh swallow fitted down my throat. “You carry more.”

  I smiled and shuffled us across the dance floor. “Glad to know. Find out anything useful?”

  Laney mock pouted, and hell, the image alone made me fucking hard. “It’ll cost you.”

  “Cost me?” I rubbed the damn hard-on against her. She bit her lip, lids lowering in a seductive expression. It took all I had not to drag her to the bathroom and fuck her senseless.

  She giggled, her head falling back in a move that always made me smile. “I get to pick out the new paint color for the bedroom.”

  God, please don’t say pink.

  “Pink and white lace curtains,” Laney said, the amusement sparkling behind her dark golden irises flashing before me.

  I gulped. “You do realize you just stole my man card.”

  She nodded, and the hold around my neck tightened. “I thought you knew I’d burned it years ago.”

  Pressing our foreheads together, I spun her under an arm, spying Colt talking on the phone out of the corner of my eye. This pretty little lady of mine was damn good at throwing a bucket of ice on my bullheaded attitude. I ran a hand lower, scoring that firm behind that held the ability to make men’s tongues wag. “Hit me with the good stuff first.” I went in for the kill and snagged myself a moment with her soft lips. “What did the bastard in the trucker hat have to say about Redbud’s party?” I said through a kiss.

  Rolling up on her tiptoes, Laney brushed her mouth beneath my ear and began to whisper, “He told me I was the prettiest girl he’d ever had a chance to dance with.”

  I stalled mid–two-step and peered down at Laney. “Give me the play-by-play on exactly what the guy said.”

  She broke away from my arms. “Luke made a deal,” Laney spoke calmly. “He’s meeting up with Redbud tonight…at the swinger party…to clear the air with Redbud.”

  Fuck! What the hell is Wagner doing?

  Chapter Nineteen

  Laney

  The bar had been a wake-up call.

  Not only had we made contact with a guy who knew information about Redbud, but the ranger Colt asked to watch over Luke at Bristol Mills called confirming exactly what the guy had told us. My sorry-ass childhood friend had locked the watchdog lawman in the bathroom and stolen the ranger’s vehicle. I concluded fairly quickly that Gunner might be a tad bit frustrated. Well, it hadn’t been too hard to connect the dots once he chucked his phone out the car window as we drove down FM 167.

  And now here we were holed up inside my old farmhouse, a place I’d soon be putting up for sale, after Colt dropped us off before swinging back by the whorehouse. And hell, I could’ve done without the brooding man occupying my kitchen. He reached inside the fridge, lean muscles something to behold, and pulled out a jug of milk. My throat clogged while I padded softly across the wooden floor in an effort to get a better glimpse.

  Hunched over the counter, shirtless, brown hair a dripping-wet mess, and sipping away on a cup of coffee, stood Gunner. He shifted at the sound of my shuffling feet, the toned muscles in his back flexed, and the black rattlesnake tattoo rippled along the cords of his right forearm as he brought the mug to his lips. Last night had been an eye-opener to past regrets, to my bleeding heart, to a relationship I’d never be able to outrun. I ran a hand through the rat-nest bundle on top of my head, hip braced against the doorjamb as I drank in the sexy Texas Ranger. These were the moments I cherished the most, when my boyfriend was oblivious to my watchful eye. He’d never confess that when he thought no one was paying attention he let his guard down, but I knew him better than anyone…and right now he was more than a little concerned as he stared mindlessly out the farmhouse kitchen window. My gaze dropped on the low-slung gym pants hugging those narrow hips that had the ability to make a nun spread it wide.

  “Got a cup for me?” I strolled into the kitchen. Gunner whirled around, his fine ass butting the counter’s edge and a lazy afternoon smile plastered across his handsome face. “I’m a little beat from last night and the long day of fuckups.”

  He chucked softly. “And sore?” he asked, the teasing rolling off his tongue like a rushing waterfall.

  Immediately my eyes latched onto the dark curls spilling out from the waistline of those mouthwatering gym pants. Cocking my head at the dangerously real distraction standing a mere inch away, I smiled. “Damn, you have a big head.” I reached out my fingers, itching to touch that fine washboard stomach that’d been commanding my attention since I rolled out of bed this morning. So I did what any sane woman would do and stroked a finger over one of his nipples. The raspy, low grunt that tore from his wide chest when I tenderly pinched it between my thumb and forefinger induced sporadic thigh clenching. “If you’re game for round two, cowboy”—my hands ran across the flexed planes of his stom
ach—“I’m up for the ride.”

  He growled, and then I felt strong arms wrap around my waist, backing me up against the butcher-block kitchen island. “Lose the panties, Laney,” Gunner ordered through a bite as he sucked my bottom lip between his. The warm touch of his mouth grazed the side of my neck as the firm grip of his hands squeezed my cotton-covered ass. “I want you flat on your stomach, ass in the air, and spread out on the island.” He growled, teeth nipping the lobe of my ear. Fuck, the stiffness of his cock pressing into my belly almost made me forget about what lay ahead for all of us. “Can I spank you?” He kissed the swell of my breasts, eyes pinned on my face. “Fuck your mouth until you’re begging to have me inside you?” He skimmed a hand down my trembling stomach, pushing the waistband of my panties down as he cupped me and squeezed. “Own your body?”

  “Fucking me in the kitchen won’t take away the fact that we are about to hit up a swinger party tonight and might have to do stuff that neither of us will ever be able to walk away from,” I told him, then claimed his mouth in a long, harsh kiss. He bit at my bottom lip, sucking the tender flesh between his teeth. His fingernails dug into my backside as he took the kiss deeper, demanding my full attention. The reality of the situation at hand was that we were drowning, and no amount of screwing would bring us up for air.

  Gunner broke the kiss and cupped a hand around my neck, roughly tugging at my hair as he forced my face upward. “Don’t care, sweetheart,” he ground out as his other hand skimmed beneath the cotton band of my panties. And then he ripped them down my thighs in one fluid motion, and before I knew it he’d spun me around, my ass gyrating against one charged-up cock. He kissed the nape of my neck while his thumb rubbed along my sensitive nub. “My head’s a fucking mess. And right now all I want is to be inside you, Laney. I want to feel you squeeze the life out of my cock.” He applied more pressure to my already throbbing clit as his deep southern gentleman drawl washed over me. “God, let me taste you.”

  My throat went cotton dry as I whispered into the butcher-block countertop, “How about just a quick simple screw, Ranger?”

  I gasped at the gentle touch of his fingers sliding between my slick folds. “Nothing’s ever simple between us, Laney.” And then his fingers left me, and the warm touch of flesh on flesh was replaced with the sound of fabric rustling to the floor. He pushed his cock at my entrance, testing the playing field as he circled an arm beneath my waist. “Show me that sweet ass.” My back arched and my ass shot sky-high, and then a hand came down hard, the sting a blistering rhythm on my behind. And again he landed a powerful blow. And again. I sucked air through my teeth, biting back the scream as a wave of pleasure shot directly from the tips of my toes all the way up between my legs. Damn, did I love my obsessive man. He could be such a control freak. “Goddamn, you look amazing. All pink and flushed with the mark of my hand,” Gunner rasped as he swept the hair off my neck and whispered sweet nothings in my ear. He kissed my shoulder blade exactly at the same time he pushed a finger deep, circling against my clit for added fiction.

  Fuck those miracle fingers.

  Panting and out of breath, I wiggled back into his hand. Strong hands spun me and pushed me down on my knees. I blinked and swallowed the lump in my throat, feeling sort of high on the perfect male specimen standing before me. “Now open up and say please.” He thumbed my chin and popped my lips open. “I know how much you enjoy a good cock.” Velvety smooth, his salty sweetness coated my lips. His abs flinched as I hollowed my cheeks and drew him to the back of my throat on a suck. Tangling a hand in my hair, he pushed deeper. “Jesus. Fuck, that feels good.”

  On a pop, I licked the cleft of his penis and reached out to toy with a heavy ball sack drawn so tight, the purply veins flushed red. Gaze fixed on a six-pack that begged to be ridden, I tugged at his tightly drawn balls and rounded my lips to pull him back down my throat. The hiss he made was all I needed to hear in order to get my blood flowing. I loved listening to Gunner Wilson lose control, so I sucked harder, and faster. And my efforts were rewarded when a tangy drop of pre-cum fell on my tongue. Smacking my lips together, I withdrew his thick, hard length from my mouth and began to pump him with my hand in a swift up-and-down motion.

  Callused hands cupped my face. “As much as I would love to watch you suck me dry, I’d rather be inside you when I come.” He brushed a fingertip across my bottom lip, then tugged. “I’m going to fuck you now. Make sure to hold on and don’t come until I say so.” Then he gripped my hips and lifted me up into a sitting position on the island. His fingers flew to my lips. “Spread those gorgeous legs.”

  And then he slammed inside me, sending sparks up along my spine. A fiery sting intensified in my gut. He rocked back on his heels, his nails biting into my flesh, his cock gliding in and out of me. Pleasure crashed through my entire body. My legs flopped apart, and my hips jutted up off the counter as he plunged deeper, rotating those lady-killer hips in a slow, maddening fashion that made me crazed with lust.

  Fingers clinging to the island, I whimpered in a breathless plea, “Please, cowboy.”

  He’d always loved the nickname, and he didn’t disappoint, driving his cock home and giving me a deliciously yummy pounding.

  “That’s it, darling,” Gunner soothed, brushing his hand through my hair. “Feel me.” He thrust. “Let me hear you,” he growled, pulling me back. I felt him expand, the tip of his cock butting against my walls, spreading me wide open.

  “Oh, god.” My body trembled as a hot wave rushed between my legs.

  Gunner took that as a sign and quickened the pace, thrusting hard and fast. “Come for me, Laney,” he rasped against my neck.

  Raging like a brush fire, my orgasm first ignited in my toes as it soared up my legs and exploded, bursting into a million nerve endings.

  And then the stoic cowboy I’d fallen in love with many years ago finally allowed himself to break. The cold warmth of his forehead slicked against mine, and his sexy mouth breezed past my neck. “Damn, woman,” he muttered hoarsely, throat strangling into a choke. “You are the best thing that has ever happened to me.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Gunner

  Popping the question to Laney would’ve been a helluva lot easier than hashing out some shit-brain plan with a federal marshal.

  Yet here I was, wearing a hole in the bedroom floor, pissed to holy hell Luke had blindsided us. I needed to slap my head back into the game. Once the news came in about Luke—a man I’d warned my boss had a tendency to stab you in the back—setting up a meeting with Redbud…well, I’ll just say punching the sorry bastard in the face was me going easy on him.

  But hell, I always got my man, even if they sometimes came back in a body bag.

  I clutched the phone to my ear with a shoulder, pulled open the dresser drawer inside the master bedroom at Laney’s farmhouse, and rooted a hand near the back. “There.” My fingers rolled across the black felt box stashed beneath socks and boxers.

  “Are you even listening to me, Wilson?” Colt boomed back on the line.

  “We’re moving forward with the plan.”

  Colt cleared his throat. “That stupid plan you came up with while driving back to Laney’s place? Don’t get me wrong, I do love hanging out with Ms. Sassy Pants, but run it by me again why I have to be her male escort.”

  “Because I’m already a regular, and they think the Houston agent is my girlfriend. I can’t break cover.” Never in a million years would I have thought to hear myself telling some other cowboy to hook up with Laney at a damn sex party. Damn, my life goals had gotten low. Shaking off the tension making a home in my shoulder blades, I focused on the task at hand…dishing out the rules to Marshal Larsen. “The two of you will need to use aliases in order to get inside. Do some digging around, question the guests, and be friendly,” I told him. “After an hour I’ll send you a text to meet me in one of the rooms so we can all get reacquainted.”

  Colt laughed. “I can do friendly.”

  “No
t with my girl, you won’t.”

  “Oh, come on, Wilson. It’s a swinger party. Live a little.”

  “Let’s get one thing straight—when it comes to Laney you are not to lay a hand on her, you hear me?” I warned. “And don’t let any other guy touch her, either.”

  “Fine.” He snorted. “Way to suck all the fun out of things.”

  The two-carat diamond ring glowed in the black box. Simple. Exactly something I could see Laney wearing. For months I’d been saving up to buy her the perfect engagement ring. And then two weeks ago, on one of my regular downtown lunch strolls in Odessa, perfection found me. The diamond had put a dent in my wallet, but hell, it’d been worth it. That night, which seemed so long ago, I was going to ask for Laney’s hand in marriage. Then shit hit the fan with just a single phone call from my boss to hand Luke off to the feds on Christmas Day, and everything came crumbling down. Now look at me. Look at us. We’d allowed our relationship to become a wreck. And hell, the ring I so badly wanted to give Laney was wearing a hole in my Wranglers because I was too damn chickenshit to bring it up. Boy, had the asshole inside me reared its ugly head. But not tonight. Tonight I’d ask her to marry me. Tonight I’d make an honest woman out of her.

  I snapped the box closed. “We have to find Luke before he gets to Redbud.”

  Colt grumbled. “Luke could’ve already made contact with Redbud.”

  When I’d tossed the idea around to my boss about going undercover into the swinger scene so we could make contact with Redbud, I never saw it winding up on Laney’s doorstep. Stupid move that’d been. Then Luke walked into the ranger station ranting and raving about how he needed to talk to yours truly, and I finally found the missing link to a case that’d slowly taken its toll on me. Now there was an inside man, and yet our big break came via Luke Wagner—a guy I hated more than finding no beer in the fridge after a long day of work—and he’d taken it upon himself to go rogue, putting us all in jeopardy.