Their Rebellious Bride (Bridgewater Ménage 10)

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Read a sneak peek from Spurred, book one in the Steele Ranch series.

Welcome to Steele Ranch, where the men are hot and know what they want. For Cord Connolly and Riley Townsend, that's sinfully sweet Kady Parks.

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Spurred

CORD

“Fuck.”

The curse slipped out at the sight of her. There was no other word for it. She was too gorgeous and I was too screwed. I’d hoped the pictures I’d seen of her had been wrong. That her hair wasn’t a fiery shade of red. That the curl in it wouldn’t get wrapped around my fingers when I held her in place for kisses. That she didn’t have a spray of freckles across her nose. Or full breasts, rounded hips. Gorgeous, ripe ass.

No, one look at the pictures my lead investigator had emailed and I’d gone hard as a rock. She was perfect. And when I’d shown them to Riley, he’d nodded in agreement. No words had been needed.

And now, with her standing before me in her floral sundress, her shoulders bare except for two thin, little straps holding it all up, I was completely and totally fucked.

Because she was mine. Mine and Riley’s. This woman, the first Steele daughter to be found and come to Montana, was well and truly claimed. She just didn’t know it yet. And all I’d said to her was “fuck.”

And of course, with the one word, I’d blown it. She startled and looked up at me with surprise and a hint of fear in her eyes. When she took a step back and glanced around the baggage claim area for either an escape or for someone to help her, I clenched my jaw tight.

Yeah, I got that a lot. I was a big fucker, but I wouldn’t hurt her. I’d never hurt her. I’d thought about how the first time we’d meet would go, and it hadn’t been like this.

I’d scared her. Good thing she was looking at my face and missed the way my dick was pressing painfully against the zipper of my jeans. That might have really scared her because I was big. All over. I looked forward to when she learned just how big it was, taking each thick inch of it deep inside her hot little pussy.

She wasn’t a small woman; she came up to my chin in her city-slicker sandals that were useless on a Montana ranch. They were hot as fuck, and I thought about how those little heels would feel as they dug into my back as I tossed up the hem of that flirty dress and fucked her. Yeah, my dick wasn’t going to go down anytime soon. Not until I sank into her, fucked this need right out of me. Like that was possible. This…ache I had for her was not ever going to go away.

So the hard-on remained. If she saw what she did to me, she’d run the other way.

That was the last thing I wanted. I wanted her as close as possible. So close I was balls deep inside her.

I cleared my throat, took off my hat, rested it against my thigh and covered myself with the brim. I tried to get my mind out of the fucking gutter. Yeah, I wanted to do all kinds of dirty things to her, to muss up that lipstick—hell, to see it coat the length of my dick—but that would be later. Now, I had to keep her from running to the nearest airport security officer. I had to be a gentleman, even when I wanted to be anything but.

“Kady Parks?” I asked, lifting my hand in front of me as if I were surrendering to her. Perhaps I was, because pretty much between one heartbeat and the next three weeks ago, I’d gone from contented bachelor to hers. Irrevocably. Seeing her in the investigator’s pictures—of her walking out of her school and talking to a few of her students, carrying a bag of groceries to her car, carrying a yoga mat and heading into the local Y—she’d destroyed me for all others. I had no idea what it was about her, but there was no turning back now.

I wasn’t complaining. Not one bit. I’d wanted to settle down for a while, but had never found the one. But ever since my lead investigator sent me her pictures, my fantasies had been filled with her and only her. No other woman would do ever again. My balls ached to grab her, toss her over my shoulder and take her back to my house and have her in my bed until I could ease the need for her. My brain—which wasn’t getting any blood supply since it was all south of my belt—was trying to tell me to chill the fuck out. She’d be mine. I just had to say more than “fuck.”

“Yes,” she replied. Her voice was soft, melodic and perfect for her. What I’d imagined it would be like. But, it held a quaver of fear, and since I’d put that look in her eye and the sound in her voice, it was my job to fix it.

I gave her a small, and hopefully reassuring, smile. “I’m Cord Connolly.”

The fear melted from her face like snow in July—gone as quickly as it had come. She recognized my name, knew I was part of her welcoming committee.

“You’re big.” Her hand went to cover her mouth, her eyes widening in surprise. “I’m so sorry! Of course, you know that,” she gasped, the words muffled by her fingers. Embarrassment tinged her cheeks a pretty shade of pink.

I laughed then, ran my hand over the back of my neck. “No worries. I am big.”

She dropped her hand but had yet to get over her mortification sin

ce her gaze flitted about, everywhere but at mine. “Professional football?”

Slowly, I shook my head. “College. I could have gone pro, but I chose a different path instead.”

She cocked her head to the side, her hair sliding over her bare shoulder. I was mesmerized watching it, jealous of a wayward curl as it brushed her pale skin. I had to wonder if she stayed out of the sun or slathered herself in sunscreen.