by Jodi Linton
Chin held high, I dropped a glance down at his crotch. “Like how big are we talking?”
He tilted his head back, laughing, hand resting heavily on my hip and his hot breath skating down the side of my neck as his voice dropped in a low, rich drawl, trapping me in its path. “Just remember to keep close. And if you step out of line, I might just have to teach you a little swinger-party etiquette.”
Shit, he could be very dangerous to my already uncontrollable attraction to him.
I was about to set the unnerving man straight when the laughter behind the ginormous oak door interrupted our showdown. It was time to indulge in a night of sinful mischief. Time to be strong, carefree, and yet guarded. If only I knew how to shield my heart from good-timing country boys, then I’d be golden.
Nothing can be worse than being caught by the principal in the boys’ locker room screwing the town bad boy in the showers.
I’d spoken too soon. The big oak doors swung open and there, blocking the massive doorway, was every man’s wet dream.
“Do y’all have an invitation?” the porno-perfect blonde in spiked black knee-high boots purred.
Colt inched closer to my side and shot porno blondie one of his million-dollar playboy smiles. Blondie really tickled his itch. “Check under the name Reed Dickman.” He peered at the notepad clutched in her pink lacquered nails as a shallow laugh slipped from his curved lips.
I gave him an odd look. “Why are you staring at her hair?”
“What?” he mock whispered. “I’m checking her roots. You wouldn’t buy a car without looking under the hood first to make sure everything matches up, would you?” He grinned way too big.
“Wow.” I leaned into him. “You’re like a little boy inside a grown man’s body.”
He tightened the belt around his waist. “You want me to prove just how manly I am?”
Boys and their fucking toys. Damn, he had a way of rattling my nerves. As I was about to throw my two cents in, our pretty blonde doorman spoke up, interfering with my snide comeback.
“Oh,” porno blondie’s voice dazzled in delight, “you’re the cowboy.” She looked at the pad again. “A very sexy cowboy, might I add. It seems you and your gal here are visiting to see what we can offer in terms of spicing up the bedroom.”
Clutching my sweaty hand, Colt rolled his thumb along the pressure point in my wrist, soothing the tension ricocheting through my entire body. As much as I wanted to claim badass status, I still wasn’t too keen on the brink-to-a-fuck thing that he had dished up as an offering.
We all were so fucking screwed.
“Yep to all three,” Colt acknowledged the blonde, bringing me back to the issue at hand. He looked over her shoulder, laying on that charming cherry bomb of a smile some more. “Now can we get a ticket inside the pleasure cave?”
Porno blondie gave us both a disapproving look. Goddamn, he’d probably just blown our only chance at securing a clue to why Redbud was so hell-bent on pinning Luke with bogus murder charges. Or why Luke had all of a sudden struck a deal with the criminal mastermind.
Digging the pointy heel of my pump into the toe of his boot, I muttered under my breath, “If you fuck me over on this one, cowboy, you’ll be heading back home with one less ball sack.”
“Talk about some pent-up sexual frustration, honey.” Blondie giggled, continuing with her utterly embarrassing—and accurate—assessment of me. “Now, don’t you worry. I think I have just the right room for y’all. In about thirty minutes, go down the hallway toward the back of the living room and into the third room on the left,” she said, sidestepping to allow us access into the pearly sex gates. “I’m pretty sure y’all’s visitor or”—she coughed—“visitors will be more than happy with the show the two of you are going to put on.”
Colt stroked the back of my hand in a soft and comforting fashion. “Well, I’ve never heard this one complaining.” He laid the lazy cowboy drawl on thick.
I shot him an “oh please” laugh.
“Hell, sweet’em.” He threw me a gut buster of a wink. “It’s the damn truth. I ain’t ever heard you complain.”
Okay, it pained me, but shit, he was right.
Blondie shoved the notepad in our faces. “I’m going to need both of y’all’s John Hancocks on the dotted line.” Her painted finger tapped the paper. “We can’t have anyone suing us, even if they are a sexy cowboy who looks like he knows his way around the ropes.” I swear she purred that last little tidbit.
After we jotted our names down, which I might add felt like I’d just given the devil my soul, our blond hostess gestured us inside the spectacular living room. Floor-to-ceiling marble spanned the massive rustic leather-furnished room. My red high heels clickity-clacked on the black granite floors, and my ass-hugging black mini had a pesky habit of inching up, exposing my thong-covered crack.
And then I stilled, not even caring if the whole damn room got an eyeful of my behind. Because the erotic display flopping around the floor in front of me would be a surefire bet for a one-way ticket to the mental ward in Pistol Rock.
My mouth came unhinged. The two naked bodies in front of me stopped gyrating and turned my way with huge grins on their faces. The heat climbing up my neck told me everything I needed to know. They’d caught me gawking, and there was a high possibility they enjoyed the extra set of eyes.
Shit.
A hand smacked me on the behind. I jumped, pinning a nasty glare on Colt’s smug, rugged face. “Don’t want to give them a show just yet,” he said and tugged my skirt back down, resting his hand on my ass for safekeeping. Then he murmured at my ear in a firm tone that took on a whole new level of bossiness, “Please do as I say tonight, Laney.” His mouth grazed against my earlobe, lips brushing a featherlight touch. “And try to keep that stunned look on your pretty little face to a minimum.”
Chest burning and breath racing, I stared up into the sincerest eyes known to my haunted heart. This man before me had demons. Maybe even more sinister than mine. And there was no doubt about it, they’d chase him to his grave. Latching onto his muscular bicep, wet lipped, I broke my silence. “What keeps you awake at night, Colt?”
His fingers dug deeper into my hip bone, and the sole of his boot butted against my heel. Slow, deliberate, not rushed, but in a gradual command, he bit back the frustration in his voice as he replied, “Nothing that damn important.”
Then he whisked us past a man dressed head to toe in leather and on bended knees deep-throating a penis, bobbing toward a hairy belly button, balls slung tight and purple veined, as another man wearing a tuxedo slammed balls-deep into his asshole.
Colt’s hand gripped my ass, hard. “Enjoying the scenery?” he asked, voice rough and sexier than a cold glass of water during a hundred-degree heat wave.
I snapped out of my daze and lifted my head, locking eyes with a man who could drive me off a cliff. “God, I am so not turned on.”
“Yeah.” He laughed. “Just tell that to your pretty pink cheeks.” He pulled me into the kitchen with him. “Let’s get some drinks and then discuss our plan of action before hightailing inside that room.” One corner of his mouth quirked. “I’m thinking you might be up for a good spanking tonight.”
I rolled my eyes. “Come on, let’s get those drinks and mingle.”
The marshal smiled. “Two beers coming right up.”
We headed into the kitchen and immediately stopped dead in our tracks at the sight of the naked brunette sprawled out on the island, ankles tied to the table legs and moaning in ecstasy each time the tequila spilled on her and a tongue lapped up the liquor. I stared at her flat stomach arching off the granite countertop, the glistening pinkness of her swollen entrance open for the taking, setting my line of sight on the toned planes of the olive six-pack towering over her helpless, sexually charged body. The hunger inside me to be consumed kicked up a notch.
I turned to catch Colt intensely watching. His taut neck flexed and clenched at the sexual feast on display. From the
heated look on his face, there was no denying that he was truly enjoying the racy scene. The trouble was, I could never let him know how much it made me burn. And that I saw trouble ahead.
I nudged him. “I bet she’d let you have a go.”
A half smile played at his lips. “From the way you are riding my jeans I’d rather take my chances here.”
Well, shit. I’d practically climbed his ass upon noticing the erotic scene in front of me. No time like the present to save a little face. I took a huge step back and slung my arms across my chest and glared the indecent good ol’ boy down.
“You told me we weren’t gonna take it further than a backseat make-out session,” I said sternly.
Eyes pinned to my breast, he cocked a brow, saying, “It really is hard to concentrate with that tit of yours fixing to pop a corset.”
I stuffed the girls back in place. “Let’s just get those damn beers and find our room, cowboy.” I huffed and stalked off to the fridge.
“Those red high heels are giving me one hell of a heart attack.” His boots kept the pace behind me.
I shot him the bird, scored two Shiners, and made a beeline to the balcony out back.
Dense evening fog sat heavily in a cloudless sky, slapping me in the face. I had my back to the French doors, and just the thought of what I was about to do had caused a clammy sweat to coat my palms. I pulled the beer to my lips and chugged. Was Luke worth burying myself in even more shit? Probably not. Would I back down without a fight? Not in my lifetime. I had every intention on seeing this hair puller of a case to the end, even if it aired a shitload of my dirty laundry. Luke might be a pain in my ass, but I’d never been the type to stand by and wait for something bad to happen. And my gut screamed he was in over his head when it came to Redbud. The very thought that Luke’s life was in jeopardy concerned me more than I wanted to admit. So that’s why I was determined to follow through with this harebrained plan of finding Luke before he cornered Redbud, although it’d put a target on each of us.
I threw back the last drop of beer. It did nothing to calm my nerves.
“You think you might want to slow down?” Colt asked, stepping out of the shadows.
Whirling around, I came face-to-face with a man who was fixing to take me for a thrilling ride—a ride that I shouldn’t be so desperate and aching to experience. We stood, locked in a stare down, promising no demands. If he touched me, I might lose control.
“I think I can handle a beer, Marshal,” I snapped and wiped my damp hands down the sides of my bare thighs.
“I know you can,” he said, flat and emotionless.
“So how are we going to play this?”
He shrugged. “We mingle a little while. Maybe have a few drinks.” He cut me deep with both smoking gray eyes. “Just use that god-given talent of yours.”
“And what the hell would that be?”
He smiled as he pulled the beer bottle to his lips. “Honey, you could chat a politician to death.”
Okay, that’d been unnecessary.
I blew out a pocket of breath. “Mind telling me how rubbing elbows with a bunch of sex fanatics is going to get us closer to finding Luke?”
“Well, for starters, that rancher friend of yours doesn’t exactly fly under the radar,” he told me straight. “Which means if Luke is here, I’ll bet you a blow job a few of the guests have seen him.”
I glanced below his belt, then back up. “How about I take your word for it, since I’m afraid a tongue lashing from me might burst your ego?”
He laughed and offered a hand, waving me toward him. “It’s time to play nice.”
I’ve been called many things: reckless, shameless, careless…but nice? No, nice wasn’t one of them. Honestly, I could throw a punch with the best of them.
I took a step forward, the charge between us intensifying. “We’ll need to put on a show before asking questions,” I said. “Otherwise they won’t spill their guts about Redbud or any of the dead party members.” I wet my lips. “That’s even if they’ve seen him or heard a damn thing about the murder victims.”
He lifted then dropped a shoulder, his eyes never drifting from mine. “You know this plan could backfire on us rather quickly, cowgirl.”
I looked danger dead-on. “I’m well aware of what it means to get burned,” I told him, tipping forward onto my stilettos. “But, Larsen, I trust you.”
He gave me a pleased look.
After a moment, when he didn’t respond, I carried on. “There’ll be no fucking tonight.” My voice grew steady, calm, and controlled while I said my piece. “As much as I love allowing you to screw with me, I’m in love with a Texas Ranger,” I said. “Have been for a while now.”
When he opened his mouth to speak, I silenced him with the soft touch of my finger pressed at his lips. “Although I understand that to pull this screwball plan off we need to be believable.” I stared, long and hard, at a man who had the potential to dredge up all my wicked fantasies. “So tonight we have fun with each other. We enjoy the company. Think about it as a prewedding gift to me,” I plugged on. “And once our guests are in our pockets, we’ll pull the cord, understand?” I paused, giving him the time needed to let the game plan sink in.
His mouth hardened. “Oh, I understand.” He pulled me close and glued his big, strong hand on my hip. He touched heated lips to the side of my neck, murmuring softly, “But I’m not sure you understand”—his teeth nipped my earlobe at the exact moment I felt the rough denim of his jeans glide past my bare thigh—“what type of fire you’ve started, honey.”
No, I understood completely. This one was gonna burn down everyone in its path. And I’d be the first to go up in flames.
“Pretty damn certain I’ve already burned my fair share of bridges.”
The sliding glass doors popped open. “After you,” he gestured, taking a wide stance, his dark, deep, and a little too enticing voice breezing across the nape of my neck. “I can’t wait to get this show on the road.”
We strolled hand in hand through the kitchen, trying to pull off a lovey-dovey newlywed couple. Each time I thought I’d seen the most outrageous sexual display, my eyes were soured with an even naughtier image. Colt tugged me into his side as we wandered past a young lady strung out on a coffee table like a spiderweb, legs spread wide and hot wax dripping down her panting belly as she arched, begged, and demanded more attention. Heat flushed my cheeks. If I wanted to be truthful with myself, the I-can-hang-with-the-big-boys kick-ass cowgirl persona might’ve been slightly exaggerated. But I was unwilling to let Colt know just how nervous I was. Because standing there, watching the naughty scene and holding his hand, I felt out of my league, and definitely a little horny. Such a bad combination.
“Let’s move on.” He tugged at my hand, a frown marring his handsome face.
Probably one of the best decisions he’s made all night.
Lifting up on my tiptoes, I told him, “Why don’t you take the reins tonight?”
That’s when his eyes snapped open, blazing hot.
“Don’t say stuff like that to me.”
“Okay. How about tonight, after we wrap up all this shit, I play your wingman and help you find a girl to manhandle?”
He laughed. “You are way too good to me.”
Just as I was about to play along, a husky voice squealed, swallowing us up whole.
“You two must be newcomers,” a woman said through a drunken giggle. “A cowboy, huh?” She slid a gaze up and down, then latched onto Colt’s face. “She your date tonight or your swap?”
I might’ve gasped in surprise, slightly.
The arm around my waist tightened, and I watched, amazed, at how quickly Colt flicked on the charming you-caught-me-staring smile. It blew the sails out from underneath me. Then he spun us both to face our visitor. “She’s my wife, ma’am. We just got hitched.” He paused, hand cradling my waist.
Yep, this man had a way with the ladies. Regular swinger party lady pulled the prettiest force
d cheerleader grin ever.
“Well, the two of y’all wouldn’t happen to be looking for a third wheel, would you?” Her crystal-blue eyes ran the length of my body. “You adventurous, darling?” she asked, humoring herself with her own question.
I stepped forward, leaning uncomfortably close. “We were really hoping to meet Redbud.” Squeezing his hand around my own, I inched a little closer to my new admirer and lowered my voice to barely a whisper. “Some friends told us about a secret meeting Mr. Redbud was hosting this evening.”
The rum and Coke in her hand sloshed as she teetered in the black spike boots. Tossing back a sip, she licked her lips dry and slurred, “I tried some of that shit at the last party. Damn, did it make my head fuzzy as hell.” Her face went blank and void. Pinching her mouth, she swayed forward. “Redbud normally doesn’t come to the small parties.”
“Really? I heard otherwise.”
“Darling,” Colt interrupted, wrapping a hand around my elbow. Damn, I’d almost blown our cover. “Why don’t we get to our room?” His voice dropped low, sounding like a man drunk on love with the woman in his arms.
The woman silently stared at us.
I reached out a hand. “It was nice chatting with you.”
“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” Dropping a quick finger wave over a bony shoulder blade, she smiled, then trailed off in the direction of the “Fuck me, please” chants.
When I concluded Colt and I were alone—well, as much as possible with all the naked and barely covered bodies lurking around—I spun around to face him. “What’s next, cowboy?”
Colt pulled me into his side and murmured against my ear. “Gunner’s supposed to text”—he paused to check his watch—“but what do you say about heading to our room and lying low until he does?”
My voice might’ve gone all Minnie Mouse squeaky high. “We aren’t just here to let you tickle that itch of yours,” I said, ramming a finger into the solid wall of his rock-hard chest. “We also need to find out why Redbud is trying to frame Luke for murder, and she could’ve known something. Maybe spilled some gossip after a few rounds of beer.”