Cowboy Not Included: The Boot Knockers Ranch, Book 6 (4 page)

He pulled back his lips and bared white teeth, which he used to graze her skin.

She jerked her hand free and folded her fingers, pulse racing. She’d come to the ranch to end her celibacy and now she was locked in a hell of torment. Not for long, though. Some of these cowboys would surely accommodate her. She’d just need to lose Booker and find a man.

She glanced around and spotted a hunk with a stallion tattoo on his throat. Damn, she could get on board with that. She tossed him a smile.

He sidled closer, and Booker gave a low noise. The guy stopped. “See you after sundown, Booker.”

“Later, Teller.”

“What’s going on after sundown? I want in on that.”

He was shaking his head before the words were out of her mouth.

She faced him, hands on hips. “Why not? I’m here to have a good time, and you aren’t stopping me.”

“I’ll show you a good time, but you’re not blowing every Boot Knocker on this ranch.”

“Jesus, is that what you think of me?” It was the pot calling the kettle black. At least she’d been faithful while they were married.

He rubbed his knuckles over his jaw, creating a rasping noise she felt to the tips of her boots. “I’m not letting you sleep around here, but I’ll make sure you’re satisfied.”

“You’re not laying a finger on me. I’m so over that.”

“Good. Me too.”

Ouch.
The slap of his words still had the ability to sting her. She had to grow a thicker skin if she planned to stay here all week.

They started walking. As she quickened her pace, she caught a couple staring at Booker. What did they want from him? He seemed rather popular. Irritation made Skye grind her teeth.

Booker slid an arm around her waist and tucked her against his side.

“What the hell are you doing? Get off me.” She wiggled, but he didn’t release her. Placing his mouth to her ear, he said, “Just showing my colleagues to keep their hands to themselves.”

She stopped walking and set her hands on her hips again. “Are you saying you’ll ward them off me?” Her voice was too loud and she didn’t care.

His eyes darkened and narrowed in that dangerous way that set her aflame. Why couldn’t she be like other ladies who preferred good-natured and smiling men? No, the grumpy one got her attention.

And her body’s attention. She was slipperier than she’d been…well since she’d been in his bed.

Memories of their last night together pounded her system. He’d pinned her arms to the bed and sucked her nipples for what felt like an hour. When he’d moved down her belly with soft kisses, he hadn’t cared about her stretch marks or the flab of having Findlee. He’d moved right past it to her pussy.

And blown her mind.

She shivered.

He looked at her until she felt like a bug under a microscope.

“I need some distance, Booker.”

“You want to be alone?”

“Yes. I haven’t seen you in a long time and now you’re superglued to me.”

He caught a tendril of her hair and twisted it between his finger and thumb. Heat spiked in her core and she almost mewled in response. She shook him off but he palmed her cheek. Every inch of his skin was rough and callused. He didn’t get hands like that touching women. He must do manual labor too.

Her breath was coming too fast. She needed to get away from him before her good memories flooded in and she jumped his hunky cowboy bones.

“Don’t you have work to do?” she asked.

“You’re my work, baby.”

“Don’t call me that. I’m not your baby.”

Defeat crossed his rugged features. “Fine, Skye. Why don’t we go to the bungalow and talk? You came here to tell me something. I’m ready to hear it.”

She eyed him. He was being awfully grown up about their situation.

Slowly releasing her breath, she nodded. “Maybe if I talk to you, you’ll leave me alone and let me have my vacation.”

He laughed. The sound swirled in her soul like amber liquid in a glass, coating her insides before pooling. “If that’s what you wanna think. Let’s talk then we’ll go for a ride.”

She threw him a glance and started walking. “A ride to the airport?”

He shook his head. “If that’s what you want. But no, I meant a horseback ride. We have a lot of acreage. And I’d like to see you straddling a horse.”

“I’d rather be straddling something else.”

He laughed again, the sound infectious. “No doubt. I’m here for the taking too.”

Crap. Why had he placed that thought in her head? Now she couldn’t stop thinking of riding him. One of his favorite positions had been her on top. The angle and depth had sent both of them thundering to fast release.

She couldn’t get to the bungalow quick enough. Her luggage had been placed inside and her purse sat on the bed.

“Skye.” His voice sounded strange and she turned to him. His gaze burned and his hands fisted at his sides.

“What is it?” She could barely breathe around the thought of rolling onto the mattress together. Tongues tangling, hands roving. Her mouth watered to taste him.

He did that adorable chin-nod toward the bed and her heart slammed against her ribs. “Do you have…pictures of Findlee?”

Relief mingled with disappointment. Nodding, she went to her purse and extracted a little photo album.

Booker came close and sank heavily to the bed. She could see the pulse racing in his throat. He reached for the book and she put it into his hands.

Then she crowded beside him, shoulder to shoulder, thigh to thigh as she shared his daughter with him for the first time in far too long.

Chapter Four

He needed fresh air.

As Booker crossed the turf between bungalows, the wind kicked up. Shooting a glance at the sky, he realized they were in for a wet evening. The perfect weather for staying inside with your pretty little gal and getting tangled up and sweaty.

Well, he wouldn’t be doing those things with his woman of the week.

Damn her. Why had she come here? Was she here to inflict more pain? Maybe to tease him by showing him what he didn’t have anymore?

“Booker!”

He looked up to see Quay flustered as hell—hat crooked and red around the ears.

“How about sharing the keys to your toy cupboard?”

Booker slowed and angled across the lawn to meet the resident Dom. “You know I don’t give out keys to my cupboard.”

“I’m desperate, man. The guys played a joke on me, knotted all my rope. I can’t be without rope.”

Booker recognized that tightening of Quay’s mouth, mainly because he’d been the victim of the Boot Knockers’ practical jokes way too often. This week they’d better steer clear of his toy collection or he’d end up in jail for assault. Between a bad case of blue balls and dealing with his ex, he wasn’t in the mood for jokes.

“All right. I’ve got rope. C’mon.” He led the way to the bunkhouse. The space was empty and silent, almost inviting. Booker eyed his cot, which looked like a good place to lay his head and think for a while.

Damn, she’d really screwed him up in coming here.

“You’ve got that little brunette. How’s that going so far?” Quay asked as Booker rummaged in his jeans pocket for the key.

“I don’t expect much from her, to be honest.” Nothing but heartache. And he’d believed he was over it.

“That’s too bad. Plenty of time to get her simmering, though.”

The only simmering Skye would be doing was the anger kind. With a flick of his wrist, he opened the first lock. Sometimes he added another lock if he was feeling distrustful. He swore the guys spied over his shoulder at the combinations and broke into his cupboard no matter what he did.

Blocking Quay’s sight with his body, Booker dialed the combinations. When he opened the double doors, Quay let out a low whistle.

“You have one hell of a collection. I’ve never seen so much rubber cock in my life.” He reached for a rainbow one the size of a small elephant dick.

Booker knocked his hand aside. “Fingers off. They’re all sterilized.”

With a laugh, Quay reached for the rope instead. When he’d gathered a length, he gave Booker a nod. “Thanks. If you need a third this week, I’m your man. I’d love to get under your lady’s little blue-jean skirt.”

“Thanks for the offer.” Booker could barely force the words between his clenched jaw. Quay left the bunkhouse and Booker locked his cupboard again. Yeah, her blue-jean skirt was a thing of beauty. Images of lacy panties, skimpy bras and edible body butters slathered all over her danced through his brain.

They’d had a hella-good sex life. At times one glance would have her stripping for him. In the kitchen, living room…hell, one time they’d had a quickie in the laundry room at her parents’ house.

He ran a hand over his face to clear his thoughts. He wasn’t going to survive the week with her. Maybe handing her over to another cowboy was best.

As soon as the idea formed, he mentally stomped all over it. Nobody was touching her.

He headed for Bungalow 2 and his week’s sentence, feeling too hot and bothered. He should have tumbled Quay in the bunkhouse when he’d had the chance. Later he’d have Teller on his knees, sucking his cock. Then he’d peg him from behind and give it to him rough, just the way Boot Knockers liked it.

By the time he reached the bungalow, his spirits were a little brighter despite the storm clouds gathering overhead. His jeans weren’t pulled so tight he would talk in a falsetto anymore, but the minute he opened the door and spotted Skye, any spare space in his Wranglers disappeared.

His cock strained against his fly. Their gazes connected and came forward. She watched his every movement, big brown eyes scorching over his shoulders and chest.

Down to his groin.

He bit off a groan.

She whirled and hurried to the bedroom. He stalked after her, too aware of the sway of her hips and sweet treat of her nape. He wanted to sink his teeth into her flesh while plowing into her pussy.

He was as hard as stone when she faced him again.

“Stop looking at me like that.” She ran her pink tongue over her lower lip, destroying his self-control.

“Like what?” He took a step toward her.

“Like you’re a lion and I’m a steak.”

His huff of laughter was anything but amused. “You did come here to be eaten.”

A shiver ran through her, and her eyelids fluttered. Damn, he could practically feel her round ass in his hands as he drew her up to his mouth. And her flavors…

He took another step toward her.

She backed up, panic twisting her beautiful features. But something unmistakable lit her with a glow—desire.

“I remember how you like it, baby. My upper lip over your clit while I sink my tongue into—”

She threw up a hand. “Stop!”

He curled his fingers around her upper arms. The urge to yank her onto tiptoe and kiss her until she forgot her own name burned hot. Her light floral scent flooded his brain.

“Booker. We can’t go there. It’s a terrible idea.”

“How long’s it been since you had a real man between your legs?” He hovered over her, lips inches from hers.

“I—stop. I can’t think with you so close to me.”

Her admission swelled his chest—and his head. Too bad it was the head he had less control over. He nudged his fly, trying to make more space.

Skye’s gaze dipped to follow his movements, and that delicious pink color in her cheeks reminded him of other pink places. She wet her lips again. “We can’t do this. Get out of my room.”

“Remember that time you pulled up your skirt and fingered your pussy in front of me?” He’d repaid the favor by sliding his engorged cock through his fist. As soon as she’d peaked, he’d thrust into her still-pulsating pussy.

Oh fuck, he was in big trouble. With a capital B.

Her dark lashes swept her cheeks. A growl formed in his throat.

She snapped her gaze up, the depths burning with want and something more.

Hurt.

“I-I can’t do this, Booker. I need some time and space from you. I’m going to call my mom and check on Findlee.”

At the mention of their daughter, cold water splashed over his system. Skye wasn’t just a gorgeous, sexy woman standing far too close to a bed. No, she was the mother of his child. And their past couldn’t be erased.

He issued a harsh breath. “I’m going to make things right with me and Findlee. She’s going to know her dad.”

Skye’s eyes softened and her lips worked. “You sound like you’ve grown more than muscles.”

He coasted his hand down his chest to his abs. “You’ve noticed?”

A sniffling laugh escaped her. “I’m not blind.”

“So you like what you see.” It wasn’t a question. He saw the tiny gumdrops of her nipples beneath her top and the way her pulse fluttered in her throat. He was trained in the art of women, and he could write a book about Skye.

“Get out of my room. I’m going to call Findlee, shower and change.”

Hell, he was about to burst his zipper again. “Need help?”

She stabbed a finger at him. “No, I do not. And here I thought you’d gotten smarter.”

“It’s plenty smart to flirt with my ex. I need to keep you soft and pliant.”

“Booker, we both know you’d flirt with a corpse. I’m nothing special to you.”

For two hours Skye sat in the bedroom of the bungalow, staring out the window. The heavens had opened and pissed down rain. What a crappy beginning to a vacation. Especially since she should be in bed with a hot cowboy. Instead, her ex was on the other side of the door, probably plotting his next seduction, and it wouldn’t be her.

Lightning still flashed but the rain was slowing. When the knock came, she looked up.

“Skye?” Booker’s quiet voice messed with her head. Everything about him did. She was going to have to grasp the reins of her memories and yank them to a stop if she wanted to make it through this week.

She had no intention of being under Booker’s thumb either. She was getting a cowboy.

When she opened the door, she sucked in a breath. He was all muscle and bad-boy smile. Tanned, chiseled man in denim and black cotton. The Boot Knockers logo on his T-shirt strained over his chest, and she burned to lift it and see the muscles for herself.

“The rain’s stopping, but it’s a bit wet for riding. You ready for the rest of that tour now?”

“Sure.” Anything to get away from the big, plush bed and dreams of a hot romp with a cowboy.

Any cowboy but Booker.

His glance roamed over her. “Do you have a sweater or something to keep you from getting wet? It’s still dripping.”

“Yeah.” She’d unpacked her suitcase and stuffed her few clothing items in the dresser. As she pulled open the mahogany drawer and grabbed her sweater, she felt Booker’s gaze on her.

Shoving her arms into her sleeves, she faced him. “Ready.”

They went out of the bungalow. Water sparkled on the grass, which seemed extra green. What they said about Texas was true—it was bigger and better. The grass was greener and the cowboys…well, she hadn’t sampled one yet, but from what she saw they were bigger too.

“You’re doing that breathing thing,” Booker said close to her ear.

“What breathing thing?” Irritation rolled through her.

“The thing you do when you’re turned on.”

“I’m not turned on.” She flapped a hand at him to shoo him out of her space. He was taking too many liberties, and she wasn’t going to stand for it.

As they ran between the slow raindrops to the barn, it was impossible not to admire the lines of his body.

“Tonight there isn’t a group activity planned. Mondays are about getting to know each other,” he threw over his shoulder.

“What about the middle of the week? Cornhole?”

“You’ve done your homework. Yeah. Strip cornhole.” His beard looked strangely redder against the gray day.

“I’m terrible at cornhole. That means I’ll be naked in minutes.”

“You aren’t doing it.”

“What? The hell I’m not.” She stressed the last word. She wasn’t going a week without getting what she’d come here for—and plenty of it.

“Hey, there’s the King of Toys,” someone hollered.

Booker waved at the cowboy passing with a pretty woman on his arm. She had warm brown hair streaked with blonde and some red. And she was tall and curvy with that certain sex appeal some women were born with.

“King of Toys?” Skye asked.

“Wait up, Booker. Let me introduce you to Leanne.”

The woman gave a white-toothed grin and tucked herself closer to her cowboy. Booker nodded at her. “Nice to meet you. You’ve got one of the best Boot Knockers, Leanne.”

She beamed at her man, and Skye felt a worm of jealousy. She deserved to be twined around a guy like that too.

“This here is Booker, known as the King of Toys. He’s got more playthings than you’ve ever set eyes on, honey bunch,” the cowboy drawled.

“I might have a battery-operated thing or two.” Booker dropped Leanne a wink, and she gave him a coy smile.

“How ’bout opening that cupboard for me? I’d like to show Leanne some fun,” the cowboy said.

“I’m sure your ten inches is enough to keep her satisfied.” Booker’s bald statement left Leanne blinking, the cowboy grinning with pride and Skye reeling.

Did the Boot Knockers all know each other’s sizes?

“You’d know, Booker.”

“Yeah, I do,” he drawled. “I’ll let you get out of the rain. Have fun with him, Leanne.” Booker grabbed Skye’s forearm and dragged her to the barn.

She shook off his grasp and ducked under the eaves. “How do you know he has a ten-inch cock?”

He laughed. “This is the Boot Knockers Ranch, baby.”

As he moved down the center of the pristine barn to a certain stall, she was left to follow, her mind still mulling over the conversation with the cowboy. Ten inches? Damn, that was just a little bigger than Booker, and he’d filled Skye to perfection.

“How do I shake you off and get myself another cowboy?” she asked.

He threw her a look from under the brim of his rain-speckled hat that would make a lesser woman run. But she knew he’d never hurt her—not physically, anyway.

Voices sounded from behind, and they both turned to greet another guy and his lady. Skye’s body reacted to the vision before her—this cowboy was built like a bull. Strong, roped with muscle. His thighs were bulky and his eyes shockingly blue and fringed with black lashes.

He gave her a once-over that made her pussy clench, and Booker moved. Positioning himself in front of her, posturing like a lion protecting his kill from another predator.

She clamped her fingers on the back of his arm, but he didn’t respond even when she pinched him hard. Peeking around her annoying ex, she got a good glimpse of the hot man. He shot her a grin.

Oh yes. That was nice. She’d take more of that. And she liked the no-boundaries feel of the ranch. The ladies flirted with all the cowboys, it seemed. And Booker…well, he flirted with everyone.

Apparently Booker had ideas about Skye flirting, if the wall of his back was anything to go by.

She cleared her throat, and he stepped aside long enough for her gaze to meet the big cowboy’s. “Hi,” she barely squeaked out before her vision was obscured by Booker’s back again.

The men exchanged a few words about a wet part of the ranch that needed a drain pipe.

After the couple moved off, Skye balled her fist and punched Booker in the arm. Pain shot through her fingers. She must have made some noise, because he caught her fist. Rubbing his rough thumb over her knuckles, he looked deeply into her eyes. “I thought you’d learned your lesson the first time you tried to punch me.”

“How did you get all this muscle, anyway?” Her tone was accusatory as she cradled her hand.

“Ranch work. Do you think I fuck all day?”

Yes, she had thought that. At least in the beginning. Now looking at him, she understood he couldn’t get that body from doing the horizontal tango. “So you still work with horses?”