Hard-Riding Cowboy (Kinky Spurs 3)

He leveled her with his cocky smile. A smile he had mastered during his twenty-eight years. This time, though, she saw the slight tremble of his body. The ravenous need running rampant through his veins. Oh, to be the thing that cracked his ironclad composure was sweeter than any chocolate she’d ever tasted.

To give him the answer he sought, she slid her hands along his forearms, relishing the sculpted muscles beneath her fingers, and up his white dress shirt to his wide shoulders. She rose to her tiptoes, pressing her mouth to his as the only response she needed to give. He met the kiss with power and something so much more addictive.

For a single heartbeat, she owned him, but a heartbeat later, a ragged growl rumbled from deep in his chest. He gripped her legs, pulling them up and around his waist. His big hands cupped her bottom, and her back bumped against the wall.

Dear Lord, Nash knew how to kiss a woman into mindless satisfaction. His tongue swirled with hers, skilled and masterful, and the unexpected emotion he poured into his kiss sent her tumbling into sensation. Because Nash wasn’t only testosterone and muscle, he was sensual and passionate. And when he kissed, he meant it.

More, Megan silently begged.

She ground herself against his hardened length pressing against the juncture of her thighs. Yes, this was what she’d wanted. To feel him. To need him. To have him this close.

His low chuckle prickled goose bumps across her arms. “I have waited a long time to have you. You will not rush me.”

She reached for his belt and had his beige slacks open in a second flat. “Wanna bet?”

Nash gave his panty-melting grin. Oh, yeah, that grin was the one she thought about. Every goddamn day. He placed both hands on her hips and turned her slightly, urging her toward the bunk beds. “Yeah, I’ll take that bet.”

Her back met the wooden ladder, and he reached for the thin fabric of her violet-gray bridesmaid’s dress and began lifting. Megan expected him to remove her dress fully. Instead, he surprised her by twisting the fabric until he had used the dress as a makeshift rope and tied her to the ladder behind her.

The heady amusement in his eyes made her squeeze her thighs together tight, pooling heat low in her body. “Are you comfortable with this?” he asked huskily, sliding his hands down her arms to settle onto her hips.

“Yes.”

He brushed his nose against her neck and inhaled deeply, as if he couldn’t get enough of her. “Always so tough, Freckles.”

Yeah, she had to be tough around him. She always needed to stay on her toes. That was their game. He would push a little. She would push back hard, never showing weakness.

Tonight, she wanted to let go. Sure, she could blame it on the four glasses of wine creating the slight buzz in her body. But that would be a lie. For this one night, she simply could not fight against what her body and heart so desperately wanted.

Him.

Until tomorrow. Until she saw once again that Nash was running from his pain after the spine injury that had ended his professional bull-riding career. Until she saw that all he wanted to do was win against her father. Until she was reminded that if she let him in, all she would be left with was her heart in tatters.

Just tonight

. Only tonight.

A good hard ride, then she’d forget all about Nash Blackshaw.

The inherently masculine sound he made stole away her thoughts when he pulled her bra cups down beneath her breasts, exposing her taut nipples. His wet, cool tongue circled each one before he drew the bud up to the roof of his mouth and sucked. Hard. He nibbled and played, teasing her to madness, before moving onto the next one. She was left gasping and wiggling in the binding on her wrists, aching for more of that skillful tongue. Because if he felt that good kissing and nibbling, how would he feel . . .

Megan sucked in a harsh breath when he traveled lower, kissing along her stomach until his fingers tucked into the edge of her panties and pulled them down. Keeping those gorgeous eyes—that were incredibly sinful when he was aroused—on her face, he lowered to one knee. She trembled, and didn’t feel the least bit ashamed for it, when he leaned in and slid a slow lick across her sex.

Her knees buckled. Her mind went black. “Fiery and sweet,” he murmured against her most sensitive flesh. “A deadly combination.” He circled his thumb over where she needed him most. Her eyes shut tight and she moaned, lost in where he took her. “But you make me crazy, Freckles.” He sucked on her clit hard, and she thrust her hips forward, grinding against his mouth. His low chuckle vibrated against her sex, and every nerve ending awoke under his touch when he slid one finger inside her. Then two. “You make me desperate to watch you fall apart in my arms.” He nibbled on her clit and began pumping his fingers in a steady rhythm.

Sensation flooded her, and her head fell back as a ragged moan slid through her lips.

His fingers stilled. “Look at me.”

Megan lowered her head, and he thrust again. Harder. Faster. She held his stare, somehow knowing that if she looked away, he would stop. And she wanted him to get her there. To take her higher. To push her over the edge.

Then he did.

Megan came against his fingers with a hard shudder and moans she couldn’t have fought even if she tried. Within seconds he was back on his feet and sinking inside her. His condom-covered cock slid with long, slow thrusts, filling her up to perfection. His one hand threaded in her hair, the other holding her hip while he drove deeper.

“I need to see those eyes.”

The fierceness of his voice snapped her eyes open. Then she tumbled into all the promises in the depths of his gaze. Every barrier she had up against him crashed and burned.