Branded as Trouble (Rough Riders 6)

“Why did you take me there?”

Because you’re mine. Because I wanted everyone to see that I’m worthy of love from an amazing woman like you. “To please myself.”

“To please yourself? Jesus. You are such an asshat, jerkwad…fuckface!” India jumped out of the cab and slammed the door with enough force the whole truck vibrated.

She’d gone beyond calling him a dickhead in a helluva hurry.

And now she was hurrying away from him.

“Goddammit, India! Get back in here.”

He didn’t hear her response but he did see her flip him off in the glow of the headlights as she walked down the middle of the road.

Colt climbed out and chased after her. “Hey, I’m not done talkin’ to you.”

“Tough shit, I am done talking to you.”

She kept walking.

He kept fuming. “Just get back in the truck, India, this is ridiculous.”

India whirled around. “You know what’s ridiculous? That I actually tried. I actually put forth an effort to be—how’d you put it?—more acceptable to your family. And to what end? It isn’t me that they aren’t seeing clearly, Colt, it’s you.”

“What the hell are you talkin’ about?”

“I could’ve shown up, painted f**king purple, with yellow feathers in my hair, wearing a slave choker and chain and it wouldn’t have made a difference. I’m not the one who needs to make the effort because I know who you are. They don’t. It pisses me off.” She flounced off again.

She was upset. For him? Because his family didn’t understand him like she did?

“Indy, wait—”

“No. I’m too mad to deal with you right now.”

“You can’t walk home.”

“Watch me.”

Each twitch of her sexy little ass was like fuel on the fire. He wanted her. Now.

So Colt started after her. He caught her in about fifteen steps and picked her up, throwing her over his shoulder.

She kicked and screeched but he held onto the back of her legs as he spun around and headed back to the pickup.

“Let me down!”

“Nope.”

“If you don’t, I-I’ll bite you in the ass, McKay, I’m not kidding!”

“I’ll bite you back. And you already know how much I like your ass.”

She screamed with frustration, pummeling her fists into his butt.

By the time they’d reached the truck, she’d quit flailing. She had a tight grip on his belt loops. “Are you gonna run if I put you down?”

“No.”

Colt slid his hands up to brace her back as he lowered her feet to the ground. “Sugar, look at me.”

She was breathing raggedly, more out of anger than exertion.

Her head fell back.

Their eyes met. And Colt was lost.

“Sweet Jesus, India, when you look at me like that…”

“Like what?”

Like you love me. Like I’m a man worthy of you.

But he suspected she didn’t know everything he’d ever wanted was visible in her eyes. So he backtracked—chickened out really—and focused on the one thing she would admit to: overpowering lust.

“Like you want to fight me and then f**k me.”

India didn’t deny it.

“Are we done with the fightin’ portion? Cause I’d sure like to f**k you. Right here, right now. Against the dirty truck as you’re shootin’ me dirty looks.”

Her response? She launched herself at him. Her mouth slammed into his in a kiss so raw it felt as if she’d knocked the wind out of him.

Colt pushed her against the pickup. His hands raced everywhere as he tried to find a single section of her skin. Dammit, of all the times to be buttoned-up. He hooked his fingers at the hem of her shirt, between the lapels, and jerked until buttons flew and her warm flesh greeted his eager hands.

India didn’t protest, in fact, ruining her shirt only made her kiss him harder. Her hands dove into his hair. Not for a leisurely, tender stroking, but she pulled his hair into tight fists as her lower body ground against his fly.

Goddamn he wanted to suck on her skin. Mark her. Bite her, but the ferocity of the kiss made it impossible for him to release her lips even momentarily. He growled in her mouth, bumping his c**k into her belly. His hands scraped up her back, maneuvering around to cup her br**sts. When his thumbs rasped over her ni**les, he didn’t feel the rings.

When he broke his mouth free and he ate a path down her throat, she arched, baring all to him. One tug and her bra cups opened. Rather than look, he let his mouth do the walking, straight to her left nipple.

Yes. A ring. A smaller one than what she’d been wearing, but she hadn’t taken it out in a fit of propriety. He sucked and lapped and bit and worshiped that tiny bit of metal until she moaned. He suckled her breast deep enough the ring tickled the back of his tongue. Another moan escaped as he switched to the other side and did it again and again and again.

“Colt. I need…”

“What?”

“You. I need you.”

“You’ve got me.”

His cock, already straining behind his zipper, jerked when India’s hands dropped to his waistband. She unhooked the belt buckle, popped the button and eased down the zipper. Her fingers snaked into his boxers and she circled her hand around him and squeezed.

Colt hissed at the intense pleasure. Feeling the velvety smoothness of her palm on his shaft. The tightness of her grip as she stroked from the base to the wet tip.

“Lift me against the door. You wanted to f**k me so bad, do it.

Like you mean it.”

With her hand commanding his c**k he couldn’t remember why this wasn’t the best idea ever…wait. “Condom,” he rasped.

“We don’t have a—”

“So f**king what? You didn’t use a condom last night when you came on my belly. Or in my ass.” India teased his ear with her hot breath. “I want to feel that heat in my cunt. I want to feel your c**k sliding and pounding inside me without latex. Your wetness mixed with mine. Just hardness and heat. Just you, Colt.”

Like he could deny her that.

Like you could deny yourself that.

He yanked his jeans below his knees. Then he boosted her up, fighting with the material of her skirt until it bunched at her waist.

“Help me.”

“I am.” She wrapped her legs around his hips and pulled her thong to the side. “I’m ready. Please. Colt. Now.”

Colt bent his knees and drove deep in a single thrust.