Trust The Devil (Devil's Riders 3)

"No darlin', you're half grown."

"What the hell does that mean?"

He laughed at me like I was a puppy chasing it's own tail. It was clear he thought I was adorably harmless. That just made me madder.

"Such language."

He leaned back in his seat and observed me.

"You might be… physically mature. But you have a lot of work to do up here."

He tapped my head softly. Then he brushed my hair back from my face and gripped my chin. He turned my face slightly, looking me over.

"But you've got loads of potential."

He smiled as our food was served.

"I'd even say you were a sure thing."

Clint

The cicadas were humming outside while I lay down on my bed. I'd spent most of the night in the rocking chair on the front porch, deep in thought.

Deep crap was more like it.

Hell, I was still in deep.

I had one big mambajamba of a problem on my hands.

Pheonyx Delancey. Her attitude. And my overwhelming attraction to her.

I was like a damn stallion who scented a mare. Except I wasn't looking for a woman. I was working. I had a reputation to uphold. I couldn't go chasing her around the paddock, even if she was the finest filly I'd ever laid eyes on.

A pain in the ass, but a damn fine woman.

I'd noticed how she'd held her tongue at lunch. Well, kind of. As soon as I mentioned her manners, she'd clammed right up.

I smiled to myself, remembering how she'd stewed there, wearing wet jeans. Everyone knew wet jeans were uncomfortable as all get out. But I'd needed to gain the upper hand if this was going to work.

I wanted her to remember today. Every time she felt like getting uppity, she'd remember the clammy feel of those jeans on her bottom. Even just thinking about those curves made my John Thomas sit up and take notice.

She'd looked fine as hell, soaking wet or not.

It was a good thing I'd had a towel in my car.

Oh yes, I was going to tame Pheonyx Delancey and get her to the championship. Once she won that prize, I'd decide whether or not to act on my primal instincts. I just had to make it through the season without pouncing on her like a dog with a juicy steak. It wasn't going to be easy, but I was a grown man. I had discipline.

I had principles.

I also had a raging hard on with Pheonyx Delancey's name written all over it. All ten inches of it. I sighed, realizing I was just going to have to grin and bear it.

For now, I had work to do.

I was using the technique I'd read about. The sort some wild animal trainers subscribed to.

Ignoring her bad behavior, reward the good.

Hell, I could think of about fifty ways I'd like to reward her.

Dang, just like that my mind was back in the gutter.

But as long as I could stick to the plan, I'd have her eating out of the palm of my hand. She'd been quiet and docile by the end of the meal, eating what I told her to, sitting up straight, thanking the waitress.

I was proud of what we'd accomplished already.

I was more ready to take her on in the arena. I couldn't let myself think of anything else past that. The way the sun shone on her hair. The way her eyes flashed when I annoyed her.

The way her body moved with a feline grace that was the most naturally seductive thing I'd seen in my life…

I moaned, realizing I was doing it again. My mind just seemed to wander back to her, like a chicken coming home to roost. If I had permanently sore balls or calluses from dealing with it on my own, then so be it. I was a professional dammit.

I was not here to seduce a prickly, ornery, sexy as all get out little wildcat.

It was a long night, with my mind going a million miles an hour. I couldn't stop thinking about her. How she'd pissed me off already. Or how bad I wanted her.

I was up early in the morning, showered and shaved and on my way to the stables with a thermos of coffee and my lawn chair. Sleep or no sleep, I needed my wits about me.

Today, I was going to tame a wild thing.

Pheonyx

"Lift! Lift! From your core!"

I groaned, sweat pricking my upper lip. I was doing basic exercises over and over again, while Clint barked orders at me. Beginner stuff. Kid's stuff, really. He yelled, and I drilled. For hours and hours and hours.

Just like we had every day this week.

He was mostly focused on my stomach for some reason. I pulled my belly button towards my spine like he told me to. He seemed to notice if I lost focus on my form for even a second.