Wrangled (Steele Ranch 2)

“What are you really going to do?” Boone asked, cocking his head to the side.

I studied the way his white t-shirt stretched so perfectly over his broad shoulders, the muscles beneath so well-defined. I itched to reach out, run my fingertips over them, feel their power. Instead, I shrugged. “It’s a relief actually,” I said, not answering his question. “To know the truth, to finally understand. Now I can go after what I want.” I flicked my gaze up to Boone’s. “The only thing I’ve ever wanted.”

“What’s that?” Jamison asked, his turn to prod. His hand slid up and down my back, slow and gentle. It was warm. A soft caress. Soothing. It seemed he was very good at lulling the words from me.

“A family of my own. I know I’m young, too young to think this way, but that’s what I want.” I didn’t hesitate this time, didn’t falter because this was what I’d dreamed of for so long. For as long as I could remember. Lying in bed at night at boarding school, wishing I had a family that wanted me around. I wanted my own home. The scent of cooking coming from the kitchen. A husband who would see only me, want only me. Share a bed, love. To give me the herd of children I wanted who would make a huge mess of the house and bring chaos and insanity. Stained carpet. Dirty dishes in the sink. Muddy shoes on the wood floors. Everything that had been forbidden for me growing up.

But no guy I’d ever met wanted to hear about getting serious right away. Date for a while, maybe move in together for a few years. Possibly. But they were all thinking short term. Really short term, like one night. That was why I never told anyone the truth, never really dated. Why I was still a virgin.

I didn’t want to rule the world; I wanted to be Suzy Homemaker. I wanted babies. I wanted a family, a house, a dog. All of it. Aiden Steele had given me the opportunity to get it. A nest egg—a very large one—a house and the chance to be me. The real me. I’d lose my family, but I’d just discovered they really hadn’t been my family. And that was pure relief. If they shut me out, then I knew now it was because I hadn’t belonged anyway. I couldn’t be kicked out of a family where I’d never actually belonged.

The trouble behind my dream was finding the man. A man who’d want a relationship. I wasn’t the kind of woman who would settle for less. I didn’t do casual. Patrick and Shamus were way too young. They’d want the sex, absolutely, to punch my V-card, but not the results. Orgasms, yes. Long term? No.

And as for Jamison and Boone? I was attracted to them, wanted them. I told them the truth. They knew it now. Knew of the relationship bombshell and I knew they’d bolt. I bit my lip, waited. No doubt I’d be back at the ranch, alone, within the hour, neither man to be seen again.

I’d never wanted a one-night stand. I’d had opportunities, but I’d turned every one of them down. I wanted it all and if these two didn’t want to give it to me, then I wasn’t any worse off than before. I’d survive. I barely knew them. I could become better acquainted with my vibrator and be patient for the right guy to come along. I wasn’t going to compromise. I’d done so my whole life with the Vandervelks. I’d done what they’d wanted. Demanded.

No longer. My ovaries were running the show now. And they were popping out eggs for Jamison and Boone.

Boone growled, then turned sideways so he sat facing out of the booth. He crooked his finger and Jamison nudged me off his lap so I stood between Boone’s parted knees. Seated as he was, I was taller than him, and it seemed strange to look down at one so big. I frowned. Confused at what he wanted.

“Should I call a cab?” I asked, not sure if they even had any out here.

“Cab?” he asked. Boone snared me with his gaze and I felt Jamison at my side. They were close. Closer than two men should be.

I nodded. “Don’t worry. I wasn’t going to trap you or anything. You just pulled the truth out of me. I don’t mean anything by it, didn’t mean you specifically. I’ll find the right man eventually.”

Boone’s big hand cupped my jaw and I was thinking about the feel of the callouses on his palm when his lips met mine. I gasped at the soft feel; the brushing of his mouth was remarkably gentle, as if sampling. Learning. He took that opportunity and his tongue delved and found mine. I gasped again at the pulse of heat I felt at the bold caress. The wet heat was shocking, exhilarating. I’d been kissed before. I might have been a virgin, but I spent my teens in boarding school and college. I’d just been a little too young to do more than that.

I settled my hands on Boone’s shoulders, felt the play of his muscles as he kept kissing me, using his palm to angle my head as he wanted. His fingers tangled into my hair and I felt his own need in that and in the intensity of the kiss.

I was warm all over, languid. My nipples hardened against the cotton of my bra and if Boone ever lifted his head, he’d see the evidence of my response. What he wouldn’t be able to see was that my panties were ruined.

Boone pulled back and I realized I’d closed my eyes. I blinked them open.

“Wh

at was that for?” I asked, my voice breathless. Quiet.

Boone’s pupils were almost black now, his gaze focused squarely on my lips. His were wet. Reddened. He was affected, too.

“I’ve been wanting to do that since the second I laid eyes on you. Fuck, you taste good,” he said as an afterthought, more to himself, as he licked his lips.

“I thought you didn’t even like me,” I countered, confused. Or my brain was mush from this kiss. Or both.

“Why would you think that?” His breath fanned over the line of my jaw as he kissed, nibbled and licked his way to my ear.

I tilted my head to give him better access, the slide of his teeth making goosebumps rise on my bare arms.

“Besides your bold questioning? Because the other day you said, ‘Nice to meet you’ and walked away.”

He grunted, nipped my earlobe. “That’s because the fucker beside you wasn’t ready to claim you yet.”

When had Jamison put a hand on my back? It had to be his because Boone’s were tangled in my hair and on my hip. The perk of being with two men—extra hands.

“Penelope,” Jamison began.

“Penny,” I countered, trying to catch my breath still. And my wits. Boone was making me very, very distracted. Or it was the pheromones pumping from him? Or the taste of him on my lips? “Only my family calls me Penelope.”