Saddled and Spurred (Blacktop Cowboys 2)

Her throat muscles contracted as she swallowed in almost the same cadence as the pulses blowing his mind.

Bran’s hands kept her in place. He eased out of her mouth, savoring the sensation of her slick warmth releasing his shaft inch by inch into the colder air. He fell back against the bench and Harper nuzzled his lower belly, stringing sweet kisses from hipbone to hipbone. She looked up at him with a pleased grin.

“I’m the one who oughta be smilin’ like that,” he murmured.

“You are now. You were sort of crabby before.”

“I do like this mood improvement technique of yours, Harper.”

“My pleasure.” She stood and smooched the corners of his mouth. “See you tomorrow.” She turned and quickly walked off. Hell, she practically ran off.

He scrambled to yank his underwear and jeans back in place. “Hey. Wait.” But by the time he’d gotten dressed, including grabbing his coat, Harper was in the truck, driving away.

What the hell was wrong with her? Why would she just bail like that?

Because you gave her the rest of the day off.

She hadn’t touched him until he verified she was off the clock.

Stupid rules. Well, tomorrow he was breaking all the rules—hers and the self-imposed ones. He just hoped he could hold off until after chores were done.

Harper wasn’t sure how to take Bran’s chipper mood the next morning.

She’d purposely raced away yesterday, hoping he would chase her. In her fantasy, he’d caught her and taken her up against the pickup in a fast, dirty, hard coupling. Warning her in that sexy, gruff, gravelly voice never to give him head and head out again.

Truth was, she had been teasing him all morning. Building the tension. Whenever he’d glanced her way, she’d purposely licked her lips, figuring that given his obsession with her mouth, he’d crack. His lust would transform him into the take-charge lover he’d promised her he would be. She hadn’t banked on the man becoming moody because she’d made him so horny.

Yet there was power in his reaction. She’d gloried in it.

But it didn’t change the fact that Bran, for all his talk about liking his sex kinky, hadn’t followed through. Granted, they had sex every day. Sometimes twice a day, after working hours ended. It was great sex, better sex than she’d ever had. But it wasn’t all she wanted. Harper sensed that Bran held back in bed. She’d counted on him being an animal. Going all caveman on her ass. She’d given him free rein . . . and he’d reined himself in? So that’s why she’d goaded him. And if she had the chance today she’d push him even further.

They’d spent the morning turning the cattle out into another pasture, looking for five missing cow/calf pairs. Bran was concerned that the cattle had discovered a break in the fence line and escaped for greener pastures. Which was a better alternative than his fear that rustlers were showing up with a semi or a horse trailer to load the cattle in the dead of night. Cattle rustling hadn’t gone by the wayside the same time as frontier justice. Cattle theft still happened frequently in the modern-day Wild West—the thieves had just gotten more high-tech.

So right before noon Bran had become preoccupied. They’d finished the remaining chores quickly and in complete silence. Hadn’t been uncomfortable. Just there.

Bran told her to feed the goats and come back to the trailer before she called it a day. She’d dragged out the feeding because she got such a kick out of the critters. Mama Pox was both protective and proud of her new baby, nudging little Nina toward Harper so she could coo and pile on admiration and alternately kicking the crap out of the fence if Harper got too close. Daddy Hex just watched everything with a bored goat expression as he ate. Sometimes Harper scared him, just to see his angry air after he came to. Their little faces were so expressive that Harper was totally smitten.

She was half tempted just to climb in the truck and hit the road for home. But Bran hadn’t officially called it a day, and she needed to find out if he had something else for her to do. She bounded up the steps and slipped inside the trailer. After toeing off her muddy boots, she looked up and stilled.

Bran sat in the middle of the couch.

“Ah. Hey. I didn’t see you there.”

“You all finished with feeding?”

“Yeah. Why? Is there something else I need to do?”

“No. You’re officially off the clock.”

She stared at him because he wore the strangest expression. Almost ... dangerous. And he’d made it very clear she was done for the day. “Oh. Okay, I’ll just—”

“You’ll just stand there and tell me what the hell is goin’ on. Not that I didn’t love the way you sucked me off yesterday, but why’d you do it and then leave?”

“I thought maybe you’d chase me down.”

His eyebrows lifted with complete surprise. “You did, did you? And what, pray tell, would I’ve done when I caught you?”

Holy crap. Thinking about her fantasies was one thing. But admitting them out loud to Bran? Embarrassing.

Maybe she wasn’t as free-spirited as she imagined.

“Answer the question,” he said curtly.

“I thought you’d . . . discipline me. With sex. Which as we both know isn’t a punishment, but I thought you’d take sex to another level. A darker level. Less . . .”

“Vanilla,” he finished.

Harper nodded. She waited, resisting the urge to twist her fingers or bite her lip. Or look away. Bran’s stare was as mesmerizing as it was disconcerting.