Pushin' Buttons (Boot Knockers) (4 page)

Or maybe his kiss had done the trick. He only had a week to help her. Moving fast was the name of the game.

She turned in a circle as if drawing a mental map of the property. When she faced forward again, she said, “You deal with the horses. I’m not sure I’ll ever be ready to ride, but you’ll teach me about them?”

He grazed the corner of his bruised eye with his fingertips. “I won’t let you get at the backside of one, that’s for sure. But yes, if you’d like to learn about them, I have things to teach.”

His words fell between them, concrete blocks of innuendo. Dropped too hard and they’d damage, but fitted together correctly, a foundation would be erected.

“I’m glad you picked me.” Sibyll’s faint admission set his heart racing. Their gazes connected, held, moments stretching on as his cock twitched and her nipples hardened under the thin white fabric of her blouse.

Sweetheart, I had no choice.

“You won’t be sorry.” He planted a hand low on her back. “Come on. I’ll introduce you to my horse.”

The silence in the barn soothed Riggs’s flayed nerves. With only the music of horses shifting in the hay and the occasional snort or nicker, he calmed.

So stupid to still be thinking about that woman and Hugh together. Riggs had lost and won some rounds. Why was this different?

He gripped the coarse-bristled brush and stroked it over Shoot the Moon’s coat. The familiar scent of the animal and the repetitious movement suddenly didn’t come close to sweeping away the irritation in his veins. Birds flitted in the barn rafters.

Without competing this week, Riggs wouldn’t have a girl in his bed. That meant he’d need to find solace elsewhere.
With Hugh.

His cock swelled at the memories of facing Hugh, his knees pressed up and back while Hugh sank into him inch by big, mind-blowing inch.

He loved to bottom for Hugh. Loved when Hugh ordered him to suck his cock. The thick length filling his mouth gave him a satisfaction he rarely got elsewhere. But something about Sibyll’s sweet expression made Riggs believe she could fill that void too.

“Damn,” he murmured, brushing faster. Right about now Hugh would be making his move on Sibyll, and that idea burned. Yeah, Riggs might be asked to join in as a third with them, but he’d have to bow out.

He couldn’t keep putting himself through this, could he? Months ago, his role on the ranch had lost its appeal after he’d been alone with Hugh for the first time. Hugh had come across him in the barn and they’d worked together to pull a foal.

Hours of fighting to save the horse and newborn had resulted in him and Hugh sharing a shower. Soaping muscles, fondling hard cocks. Then Hugh had gone down on his knees and sucked Riggs’s shaft right to the back of his throat.

Swift and strong. No apologies.

In seconds, Riggs had climaxed and Hugh had held his shaking body as he calmed. Leaning against the shower wall, Hugh had kissed him for the first time. Before that, their threesomes had been purely physical.

Since then they’d shared half a dozen encounters, and each time Riggs lost himself a little more. Even now Riggs couldn’t get the taste of the man out of his head.

His craving for Hugh was too strong. He couldn’t risk the other Boot Knockers finding out. It wasn’t against their rules to have sexual relations with each other, but they’d all signed contracts prohibiting exclusivity with anyone inside or outside the ranch.

Too late.

Could Riggs really go through with his plan to find out if Hugh had feelings for him too?

Life on the ranch had never felt so stifling. The barn and an hour-long gallop left him less settled than ever. He needed more—violence, sex.
Passion.

Hugh gave him all of that. His rough sex play and the emotional tornado inside Riggs when they were together was exactly the cocktail Riggs desired.

Maybe there’s a twelve-step program for me.

Hello, I’m Riggs, and I fear I want more from my best friend.

The thump of a boot heel on the wooden floor made Riggs jerk his head up from his task. He swung around to see the silhouette of a man in the doorway, outlined by sun, his face shadowed by the battered brown hat he always wore.

“Riggs.” Hugh nodded.

Sibyll was with him, of course.

Riggs’s gaze jumped from the face of the man he’d just been daydreaming about to the soft woman at his side. She was barefoot, standing only to Hugh’s chest. That meant she’d only reach that high on Riggs too.

He clamped his fingers around the horse brush to keep from doing anything rash—like storming across the barn to her, picking her up and trapping her against a wall with his body.

His balls tingled with the need for release.

“Sibyll,” Hugh’s drawl formed her name perfectly, “you remember Riggs.”

“Yes.” Was her quiet reply breathless, or was that Riggs’s imagination?

He twitched his hat down. “Nice seein’ you again.”

And damn, was it. She was exactly Riggs’s favored body type in a woman—curvaceous, not too thin. And that hair… God, to feel it rubbing over his thighs as she blew him.

Riggs did a mental ninja-move against the images bombarding his brain. He couldn’t think about being between Hugh and Sibyll. No, the idea would only end in frustration and even pain. His previous plan to confront Hugh swirled down the toilet of his mind. In the end, he couldn’t risk alienating him.

Hugh took a step into the ring of sunlight streaming from a high overhead vent. Air currents churned in the shaft of light, but the blazing expression on Hugh’s face was riveting.

Riggs stared at him for a long heartbeat. Then he slid his gaze to Sibyll and tipped his hat once more. “Enjoy your evening.” He went back to brushing, holding his breath. Only when he heard Hugh’s boots and the quiet shuffle of bare feet moving away did Riggs rest his head against Shoot the Moon’s flank.

As he released the pent-up breath, he knew exactly what would come of the interest Sibyll showed in him. The three of them would end up in a tangle of limbs, pleasuring each other senseless.

But Riggs had to figure out how to cut his heart out of the barbed-wire snare.

Chapter Three

Sibyll revolved through the bungalow, marveling at how the space had been designed to be so light and airy inside in sharp contrast to the log siding outside.

Her nerves jangled. She was too aware of Hugh’s solid stare on her. He leaned against the wall, and while he appeared to be relaxed, his muscles were taut.

They’re always taut, stupid. He’s RIPPED.

She’d only ever seen men like him in commercials or magazine ads. Riggs had said Hugh used steroids, but she knew he’d been joking. Hugh’s body was layered with muscle from years of heavy work on ranches, not at all bulky like the gym rats.

Running her finger over the smooth oak wood surrounding the window overlooking acres of pasture, she imagined touching Hugh. Would he feel as good as he looked?

She drew in a fortifying breath. She was about to find out.

As if detecting the change in her, he pulled away from the wall and sauntered a few steps to her side. When he planted his hands on her hips, she sucked in a gasp. Damn, he curled his fingers so perfectly. Of course, he knew exactly how to best seduce a nervous woman.

He began to sway with her, shifting lightly from boot to boot as if they were dancing. She went with it—letting him rock her. After a minute he began to hum, low. The baritone touched her deep and in places she didn’t know existed.

Maybe that’s my O button.

Hugh slid his hands up from her waist and took hers, which were trapped between their bodies. The stroke of callus against her soft skin, accustomed only to working on a keyboard, threatened to melt her.

But that’s what she was here for—to be melted into a puddle under a smoking-hot cowboy. Her scientific mind conjured this literal image, her body flattened by ecstasy, her face melted wax of orgasmic bliss.

She giggled.

Hugh withdrew a few inches to peer down at her. He hadn’t removed his hat, so his eyes were shadowed. But she liked the way he looked at her.
Absorbed-like.

“What’s funny?”

“Nothing. Just thinking too much.”

He arched a brow, which transformed his whole face. Squint lines changed shape, and the corner of his mouth twitched up along with his brow, exposing that dimple in his jaw.

He positioned her hands on his chest.

Excitement stabbed her. Beneath her palm his heartbeat was strong, unwavering. Curling her fingers, she learned the shape of his pecs. His eyes darkened.

When she began to explore his ridges further, his breathing hitched.

“What’s your favorite color?” he asked, voice strained.

The swaying continued, and between that and his steely muscles under her hands, she could hardly follow the question. It took a full minute for her to respond.

“Green.”

He nodded, as if he’d known. “And what kind of car do you drive?”

“I don’t drive. Where I live, there’s no need. Public transportation works for me.” She splayed her fingers and touched one of his tightened nipples. He swayed forward, rocking his hips into her instead of moving side to side like before.

The thick length of his arousal pressed into her lower belly. With a stuttering sigh, she closed her eyes. When she opened them again, his gaze had intensified times ten. This was going so fast—but they only had seven days together. She tried to extinguish her nervousness and be the woman she’d come here to be.

“Remind me of where you live again.”

She shivered at the scrape of his words over her senses. He was seducing her with mundane questions most guys would learn in five minutes at dinner. But somehow Hugh’s focus on her made the questions important.

“Atlanta.”

“Ah. I detected a little drawl in your voice.”

She tilted her head. “Really? I didn’t grow up in Atlanta. I moved there after college.”

He planted his hands on her waist and swept her in a full circle. The motion was so quick, she would have been dizzy if she hadn’t been completely centered on his handsome face. Surprise made her laugh, a hearty belly laugh that made him laugh too.

Hugh was all country boy, yet he was able to move smoothly, as fluid as a dancer. He spun her again. Behind him sun streamed into the space, turning the walls to butter and his tanned skin to gold. She wet her lower lip. Would he taste salty? Spicy?

Zeroing in on her mouth, Hugh asked, “What kind of soap did you wash this sexy body with today?”

“Wh—?” She shook her head, stumbling on his question. “I flew into Houston and stayed the night. I showered in the hotel early this morning before catching a cab that brought me to the ranch.”

By slow increments he lowered his head. For a breath-stuttering minute she thought he was going to kiss her. But he bypassed her lips and nuzzled her throat. An invisible string between his mouth and her pussy tightened, and she clung to him to keep from falling over.

Hugh wrapped an arm around her waist, bending her back over it. Then he raised his head and stared right into her eyes. “Sibyll, I’m going to kiss you.”

No more questions. Just raw, pure control. Dumbly, she nodded. As he swooped in, she closed her eyes and let him take possession.

Just as before, his mouth was soft but his beard rough. Flavors infused her head. For a moment, she feared she’d make an idiot of herself with bad breath or inexperienced kisses. Of course, Hugh would be trained to handle these problems.

Angling his head, he fitted his mouth more firmly over hers. When he probed the seam of her lips with his tongue, she gasped.

His tongue filled her mouth, warm and soft and incredibly erotic. He stroked it against hers gently at first, using small flicks that hardened her nipples to a level of pain she hadn’t known she needed.

He ran one hand up her torso, around to her spine, and slipped his fingers under her hair. When he twisted the mass and yanked her head back, they shared a groan.

Walking her backward with as much finesse as he’d spun her, he continued to kiss her. Sibyll kept her eyes shut and allowed him to lead, trusting him even if she didn’t know him.

Well, she knew some things. Like the fact that he tensed when she ran a thumb over his nipple. And he’d taken just the right care in awakening her body.

He tore his mouth from hers, and keeping her head back by her stretched hair, dropped a kiss to her throat.

She squeaked, wriggling.

Against her skin, he rumbled, “I knew it. No one’s touched so many parts of you.”

“No,” she gasped, her former lovers’ attentions like a news reel of failed attempts in her memory.

He raised his head. “I’m going to touch every single spot.”

They’d reached the bedroom. He lifted her off her feet and laid her on the cloud-like mattress. She sank into the plushness, surrounded by grass green silk that might have been chosen especially for her.

“My favorite color.”