Collared By The Cowboy (Bad Boys)

by Susan Arden

  “Mia,” he groaned, rocking his hips back against her before he came down onto his palms, caging her.

  She held out her arms and he slowly lowered his torso as a shudder rippled through him. When they were belly to belly, he wrapped his arms around her and their hearts beat rapidly, chest to chest.

  “Thank you for coming over,” she murmured, brushing away strands of sweat-plastered hair plastered from his forehead.

  He tightened his arms around her. “Baby, sleep. I have some early morning plans for you.”

  She glanced up at him, tracing the chiseled lines of his profile, and her breathing stuttered. He was ruggedly handsome, and with his eyes closed he appeared less volatile. The force he carried, that burned in his gaze, muted with the slight smile tugging his lips.

  The realization that he was staying the night sent a spark of joy through her. He didn’t come over just to prove that he could find her and control her. He’d come and taken care of her, as he’d promised.

  SOMETHING was off. She’d slept the entire night in strong, warm arms. Bands of muscle that held her against a formidable chest, and a mouth that kissed her shoulder, nuzzled her neck, and laughed in her ear. Now that slice of heaven was missing. She turned over and Brandon was gone from her bed.

  She sat up, balanced on her elbows, and inhaled. It was shy of six in the morning, based on the red digital numbers shining from her clock. She heard the front door of the apartment shut. That would be Dani, on her way to clinicals. Her roommate was in the same grad program, and after last night, well that only solidified Mia’s decision that she couldn’t continue to ‘study’ Brandon. But at what point had he left?

  No note. Not exactly a reasonable expectation for a man like him. Bad generalization. She stopped herself before she dissected her entire night. Again. Wasn’t it enough that he’d come and taken care of her? Put his proverbial Dom money where his talented mouth was? She closed her eyes, biting back a groan, and squeezed her legs to ease the pulsating ripples growing and demanding relief. What was happening to her? Brandon had unlocked an unexplored side of her, and instead of lessening, it was taking over her thoughts with greedy, lustful desire. Each time he’d fucked her, this erotic craving to be dominated had escalated.

  She gasped in mid-thought as the door to her room opened and a pair of sapphire eyes targeted her. “H-Hey,” she stuttered.

  Brandon carried in two steaming mugs. “Great morning,” he murmured, smiling. “This is just to get your engine started.”

  “You’ve been busy,” she pulled back the covers for him to join her in bed.

  “Baby, not enough as far as I’m concerned.”

  She wound her fingers around the warm mug as she admired Brandon’s shirtless body, clad in jeans slung low on his narrow hips and encased his muscular thighs. “Come on back, cowboy,” she said in a husky voice.

  He set his cup down and unzipped his pants. His naked, rock-hard body was enthralling to watch in this impromptu striptease. And he more than rocked her world when he revealed his hard-on and that beast was at eye-level with her.

  “Whoa,” she whispered and couldn’t help an involuntarily gasp.

  Sliding in next to her, he met her wide, open stare and picked up his mug. “I promise not to bite,” he said, gazing over the rim of his cup.

  Her heartbeat sped up. “And here I was hoping.” She could hardly string cohesive words together. Her brain stuttered even more as she tried to act like she’d done this a thousand times. “I can take you, cowboy.”

  He laughed, tweaking her nose. “My little warrior. Forever ready to take up arms.”

  Heat flooded her cheeks. “Not always.” she returned and sipped her coffee.

  “Girl, even you don’t believe that whopper.” He laughed, shaking his head.

  “Okay, fine.” She rolled her eyes, but couldn’t help smiling at him. “Maybe a smidge.”

  “Don’t change, darlin’,” he said, running his commanding hand over her thigh. “I like your sass. Most of the time.”

  “Thanks for the coffee.” She turned her hip toward him and rubbed her ankle along his muscular calf.

  “Your roommate pointed out the coffee and cups. I can make a mean omelet, if you’re hungry.”

  “I am. But not for eggs.” She felt safe with him and didn’t feel the need for pretense. “This is the first time a hot stud served me…in bed.”

  When she’d lived at home or on campus at a women’s college, men in her room hadn't been a possibility. This apartment was her first grown-up venture into independent living. To say her father was overprotective didn’t capture his provincial level of parental worry. He’d raised both her and her sister with a loving, but iron, hand. It had taken a month of arguments and her leaving in the face of his threat of no help, not a dime, if she took an apartment away from home. Even Margo, her younger sister who was out on the rodeo circuit, riding bareback and on a roping team, had the pleasure of a fulltime chaperone.

  “Happy to be the first,” he said, stroking her face. “Very glad in fact, if that matters.”

  “It does.”

  “So what’s on the menu this morning? Since you’re hungry.” He traced his fingers over her cheek. When she didn’t respond right away, he channeled his fingers into her hair and tugged lightly. “You’re thinking way too hard.”

  She sat up and ran her finger over the rim of her mug. Clearing her throat, she met his gaze. “Today, I’m officially withdrawing from my senior project. I have an appointment with my advisor.”

  He nodded, tilting his head, and let his hand drop to her shoulder, then grazed it down her arm. He gave her a little squeeze on her wrist. She expected him to demand to know why and ask rapid-fire questions. Then she understood, he’d probably expected this…isn’t that why he’d come to find her? “What will you do?” he asked quietly.

  “I heard from the treatment center where the girls are. Dr. Cane, a psychologist there, asked if I would be interested in working with the twins. It’s last minute, but still a good project. More like an internship. They were impressed with our crisis intervention. I gave them a provisional treatment plan to implement and yesterday received the green light. Dr. Cane would serve as my supervising counselor on the case.” She paused and added, “I’m going to accept.”

  “Probably for the best. I don’t want you at the club unless I’m there. Will you come back if it’s strictly social?”

  She lowered her gaze to the sheets she was twisting between her fingers. “I don’t know.” How could she tell him that she’d seen her ex there… and that Beau was the jerk in the bar? And then there was the situation with that woman—

  “We need to talk,” he interrupted her thoughts. “For now, I’m putting aside my hunger to fuck you blind. What happened yesterday?” He searched her face, his intense gaze stilling her worry.

  Inhaling, she decided this wasn’t the moment to run. If she wanted her future patients to trust her, she’d better develop some trust herself. “That man in the club yesterday…”

  His brows knitted. “That’s not routine. I’m addressing—” She placed her fingers against his lips.

  “My turn.”

  Brandon nodded and his lips curved under her fingertips. Her heart wrenched in her chest, thinking about what she had to say. She inhaled, running her fingers down from his handsome face, tracing his silver chain along his neck until her hand rested on his chest. Carefully she said, “That was my ex.”

  His eyes widened. “Did he approach you?”

  “He didn’t know I was there. I wore the mask and cloak, and I left when he started doing...” She motioned vaguely, unwilling to fully describe what she’d seen.

  She watched Brandon’s massive shoulders and chest rise and fall with a deep breath. “You’re not getting back together with him. So what’s the deal? Are you embarrassed about the club?” he asked.

  “Of course not. We broke up because he thought I was beneath him. Not good enough to introduce to his
family. Not the marrying kind; that type of thing. He used me. I was repulsed seeing him. The thought of seeing him again at your club—no, I absolutely can’t. I won’t!”

  “Whoa,” he said, setting his mug down and then reaching for her. “I still don’t know how that man gained entrance to the club. We’ve only recently discovered someone is handing out fake club passes. After last night, he won’t ever get back into the club. We take driver’s licenses for anyone coming through our doors, so no way will he ever be admitted again. Someone’s got a vendetta against the club to be doing this type of crap. The other clubs around here let anyone walk in. We don’t. It’s why some people choose to patronize my club. We’ve got strict rules for a reason, and I’m pissed off that someone is doing a number on me.”

  She swallowed, her hands growing cold. “I might know who.”

  He looked up at her, the blue of his eyes glinting. “Who?”

  “That woman who was in your office. She was really harsh to Penrose. Venomously.”

  “Shit,” he swore. “Did she say something to you? Do something?”

  “No. Not to me. We crossed paths in the hall.” She hadn’t told him about the red dress. “That’s not true. I lied. I told you I wasn’t in your office, but I was. I saw the red dress and she left with it.”

  “Mia.” Brandon bolted upright in bed and his grip tightened on her arm. “I want you to listen to me.”

  She wasn’t about to start grilling him on the who’s and what’s that went down last night. They stared at one another and the only sound in her bedroom was their breathing. His pulse skittered rapidly in a vein along his neck.

  “Go on,” she said, scanning his face.

  “Apparently it was a reunion night for ex-partners. Both of ours, and an awful coincidence for anyone. I didn’t know Val was going to show up. The dress was hers. I bought it and I only kept it because she sent me an email saying someone would come by to get it. That was months ago, and I should have trashed the damned thing. I’m glad it’s gone and she took whatever she believed was hers. But I’m not carrying some torch for that woman. I was on the receiving end—just like you—of being used.”

  “I don’t want to be the person who talks trash about your old girlfriend.”

  “Trust me, that line is already long enough.” A bitter smile thinned his lips.

  “Still,” she argued. “It’s tacky. And for you, I’ll just say that she and Pen bickered about some money and loans. One she procured, and it sounded like she was pleased to have put something over on you.”

  The skin over his chest and up his neck, all the way to his hairline, darkened in seconds. He stared back at her, his eyes narrowing in thought, and he squeezed his lips together. If anyone was struggling with composure and winning the battle, it was Brandon. She, on the other hand, was a bag of nerves. Her body felt knotted from the inside out. Instead of feeling jealous, her hands and fingers turned cold as she watched Brandon’s reaction—or lack of one.

  He sucked it all in and scrubbed a hand down his face. “Promise me, this isn’t the end of us.”

  How could one man captivate her so effortlessly? “I don’t want it to be.”

  “Sometimes,” he murmured, taking hold of her and bringing her down next to him, “I just want to disappear. With you.”

  “Me too,” she whispered, stroking her hand up his cheek, which clenched under her fingers, a muscle twitching at his jaw. “Lie down.”

  He did as she requested and she sat up, moving from the warmth of his body and the blankets, to straddle his hips. Clasping his cock in her hand, she rose over his tip, swiped him across her slick folds and eased herself down onto his length. The sting of him entering and stretching her held her focus. A wave of pleasure washed over her, making her nipples pebble and the sharp ache of want and need spark, threatening to detonate if he didn’t thrust into her soon. She impaled herself on his length, and he curled his fingers around her hips, lifting her up just as rapidly.

  “Press your palms into my chest,” he directed her. “Mia, I need you to ride my cock with those hips of yours.”

  “I’m going to fuck you senseless,” she panted and did as he instructed. Their eyes met, a firestorm between them, and he groaned. Brandon hauled her up and down his shaft as though she weighed nothing. The friction and pressure tangled inside her until she it was like liquid fire swam inside her body, she was ready to melt. “Please. God!”

  “Not yet! Hold on.”

  “Then hurry.”

  He grasped her hips, bringing his cock deep inside her then twisted his body, spilling her onto the mattress. Still embedded inside her, he pressed his finger to her clit, stroking her like he was a master musician, and she a prized instrument. She arched and cried out, begging him to let her explode, and he moved his fingers to her nipples.

  “You’ll wait, or I’ll stop and fuck your ass.”

  “Not helping,” she murmured, squeezing his cock with her pussy in retaliation.

  His husky laugh sent chill bumps racing around her body. “Oh, you’d like that? Noted.”

  Brandon pinched her nipples and fucked her harder and faster as she tucked her fingers under the headboard. She pushed her hips against him, wanting to take everything he had to give her. “Please. I’m so close.”

  He grunted, hoisting her hips and changing the pitch of his thrusts. “That’s it. Clench around my dick. God, you drive me insane with how you do that.”

  Beads of sweat burst along his temple and dripped down his face. She was losing ground. Cascading ecstasy floated around her, making it difficult to think, and she slipped over the edge.

  “Come for me,” Brandon whispered against her ear, taking the shell into his mouth and teasing her with a bite. He trailed his mouth along her neck, searching for the spot. There, he found it, claimed it and sucked it to the point that drove her crazy. He bit down on her neck, fucked her wildly with his cock, and he cupped and owned her breasts.

  “Brandon!” she yelled his name. Her body burned out of control. Brandon’s voice and body were everywhere. She couldn’t think. She couldn’t breathe. She struggled for air and her mouth filled with his scent—clean and masculine. His scent spilled down her throat, into her lungs, and swam within her blood like ether bubbles that exploded under her skin.

  “Say it again, Mia.” He thrust into her deeply. “I want to hear it.”

  She inhaled and screamed against his neck, “Fuck me! Harder!”

  He held on to her thighs, lifting and thrusting into her, holding her gaze until his eyes rolled back into his head and he called out her name. Not once, but several times. She held open her arms to him and he came to her, his cock twitching deep inside her, and his forehead pressed to hers. They remained entwined, their breathing ragged, her thoughts a wreck, and it was an utter mess but just so fucking perfect.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Sometimes after a storm, things just needed to set. A period of adjustment for what to do next. And that’s what Brandon did, as uncharacteristic as it was for him. To make a decision on what to do when his future lay in flux required some distance. But he’d be damned if that meant he’d take off and leave Mia in order to get his head together.

  He returned to Evermore and worked all morning, making provisions for Rory to take over and Matt to stop his bitching. Stephen would cover his ass and he’d cover his brother during his upcoming honeymoon. Nothing new—that’s how he and his brothers operated, and thank God for that. No questions when the shit hit the fan. Just a bunch of hard looks, nods, and punches to his arm, slaps to his back, and deep sighs. They’d all had a go-round when life handed out lemons.

  “You headed out?” Rory asked at the tailgate of his truck.

  Brandon loaded a tote of things he and Mia would need at the cottage. “Yep.”

  Rory nodded and looked over to the barn. “I got you covered. This is as important to me as it is to you.”

  Brandon lifted and slammed the tailgate closed. He gazed at his
younger brother, his same height, though a few pounds lighter. “We were all there at one time. Decide your path and then go for it. Matt and Dad know you’re coming into your own.”

  “Then why hasn’t Dad given me a parcel of land?” Rory demanded. “You all had yours well before this time.”

  “Rory,” he sighed. “You and Cory, really you, are the last. The folks are just holding on.”

  His younger brother’s eyes widened. “Well, they’d better stop. I’m not a kid. I work, pulling my weight, just like anyone else.”

  “We all know that. Give them a moment to adjust. Mom isn’t recovered, and the babies, Stephen’s wedding, and our sister’s engagement. Shit, life is coming at them one event on top of another.”

  He watched Rory exhale and nod. “I guess,” he muttered, then, as was common for his capricious brother, Rory’s mood changed. “Rebellion is doing better. Did you see him trot out today?”

  Brandon laughed. “Shoot. He’s ready. I’ll give him to you to breed next year.”

  “You’re serious?”

  “As a heart attack.” Brandon nodded. It was time.

  “Whoa!” Rory took off his hat and threw it into the air.

  “Without a doubt. You’re ready. You know your stuff. And hell, that horse is more than ready to stud.”

  “Thanks. Bro…” Rory fitted his hat on his head, unsaid words hanging in the air.

  “No need. You work damn hard and have earned your place, all right. About time people called here to speak directly with you.” Brandon watched his brother’s expression relax. To be that age again, when it was possible to enjoy the cycle of life, whether it be a season, or the wellbeing of one of their horses. “It’s on you. He’s yours, brother.”

  “I can handle this.” Rory held Brandon’s gaze. “Man, I learned from the best.”

  “We’re a team.” He held out his fist and bumped his younger brother’s. “I’ll be in touch.”