Saddled and Spurred (Blacktop Cowboys 2)

“So tell me what you feel.”

“You sure you wanna do this, Harper?”

“You brought it up.”

Then those amazing silvery gray eyes locked on hers. “When I say this, understand that I ain’t speaking as your boss. I’m speaking as a man.”

Gulp. “Okay.”

“That kiss knocked me for a loop. Mostly because I’ve been fantasizing about kissing you since the day you showed up at my place.”

Harper’s pulse spiked.

“I probably ought not be telling you this because I’d never want you to compare me to that piece of shit Ralph.” Bran squinted at her. “He offered you a job at the C-Mart, didn’t he?”

She nodded. “Last fall after the Tumbleweed Motel closed for the season. But there were . . . conditions.”

“What kind of conditions?”

“He said he’d give me the prime morning shift if I promised to be in his bed thirty minutes after my shift ended. I declined. He was honestly surprised I didn’t jump at the chance to jump him. And since I turned him down? He goes out of his way to say nasty things to me. Like tonight. Calling me stupid. A two-bit bar whore. Telling me I’m exactly like my mother. He makes me feel . . . dirty.”

Bran’s hand tightened into a fist on his thigh. “Am I making you feel that way?”

“No. God, no. I know if I said, ‘Bran, leave,’ you’d do it. Maybe not happily. But you’d respect my choice. Ralph makes me feel like he’s doing me a favor coming on to me. Like I’m somehow beneath him, but he’d love nothing better than to literally have me beneath him. It’s screwed up and I’m sorry you got dragged into it tonight.”

Instantly Bran was out of his chair, looming over her. “The only thing I’m sorry about is that you had to deal with that slimy f**ker at all and I didn’t get to beat him to a bloody pulp first.”

Harper stared at him. Specifically at his mouth. God. Bran was just so . . . powerfully male. But even as close as he was and as angry as he was, he didn’t scare her.

“The last time you looked at me like that I kissed you,” he warned, his voice a deep rasp.

“I know.”

“Dammit, Harper. Tell me to stop.”

“I can’t.”

He swore softly before he pressed his mouth to hers, gently at first, and then inhaled her in a raw, consuming kiss. He dragged her out of the chair so their bodies met—hardness to softness.

She melted even as she burned. This time as they kissed, Bran didn’t restrict her hands, allowing her to touch him wherever she pleased. She traced the angles of his face, fanning her palms down the column of his throat. Over his wide shoulders and hard chest, then back up to wreathe her arms around his neck.

His hands gripped her hips. When the kiss intensified, he squeezed her hipbones. When it slowed, his thumbs stroked the bared section of skin above her waistband. He changed the angle and the timbre of the kiss. Gentling it. Sweetening it. Making her want so much more than just kissing.

Bran broke the seal of their mouths and nuzzled her cheek. “Sometimes I can’t think straight for wantin’ you. But neither of us is in the frame of mind to do anything about it tonight.”

There was his gentlemanly side again.

Pity.

Harper wouldn’t have denied him anything. But the last thing she wanted to feel when they acted on this attraction was regret.

“Do you want me to stay here tonight?” he murmured against her temple. “I could crash on the couch.”

She laughed softly. “And just how long do you think that’ll last?”

Bran nipped her earlobe. “It was worth a shot.”

“Really, Bran. I’ll be fine. Ralph won’t come after me.”

“You sure?”

“Yep. He’s lazy. And the fun is gone for him now that you know he’s been harassing me.”

Bran’s hands framed her face. He kissed her forehead. Her cheeks. Her chin. Her mouth. “Come over tomorrow.”

A little dizzy from his tender ministrations, she blurted, “I thought I had tomorrow off.”

“You do. This invite ain’t about work. There’s a lot between us that don’t have anything to do with you bein’ my ranch hand. And we need to talk about it, instead of ignoring it.” He kissed her with surety and seduction. Then he released her.

Bran slipped on his boots, his coat. His gloves. His black cowboy hat. He gave her one last smoldering look that would keep her warm the whole night through. He said, “Lock the door after me,” and then he was gone.

Chapter Nine

After spending hours tossing and turning in her bed, Harper decided to do something impulsive for once in her life: She’d throw herself into a sexual fling with Bran because there was an end date. No chance she’d fall for him or that he’d want more from her than sex.

Wasn’t that a man’s ideal relationship? All sex and no commitment? If that was what she offered, wouldn’t he jump at it?

Harper knocked on Bran’s door at ten o’clock the next morning.

He immediately opened it, looking sexy and yummy—and that was before he gifted her with a sweet smile. “Harper.”

“Ah. Hi.”

“Hi, yourself. Come on in.”

She went through the ritual of removing her outerwear, like she’d done so many times at this very spot. But this time was different. This time she felt Bran’s eyes on her as she undressed. And when their gazes collided, he didn’t bother to bank the desire burning in his.