Rope Burn: The Boot Knockers Ranch, Book 5 (6 page)

Damn, he was the finest wine. The feel of his cock on her tongue had done funny things to her insides. She wanted to take him in her mouth again.

“More relaxed now?” he asked.

“Mmm-hmm.” Actually, she felt sleepy yet filled with energy at the same time.

“Good. We’re going to talk about what just happened.”

Oh God. Not that. She stiffened and he plastered a hand to her spine, locking her to him. As if she could escape anyway—they were cuffed together.

“Why would we…talk about it?”

“Because that’s what I do. If you were frightened at any point, I need to know so I avoid it next time. Communication is everything in my lifestyle.”

“Okaaaay.”

He tipped her chin up to meet her gaze. “Did you feel afraid at any time?”

She racked her brain. For a few moments she’d felt trepidation but not true fear. She shook her head.

“You hesitated when I told you to get on your hands and knees.”

“Because it’s a vulnerable pose.” She propped herself up to see him better.

“Did you think I’d spank you? Whip you?”

“I didn’t know. I was afraid you might.”

His eyes seemed to darken a shade. “I would have told you what I was going to do first. Communication, Tabbart. Understand?” His voice was deep and lulling even as fresh need skittered through her.

“Yes.”

“And when I put my hand on your throat—that didn’t frighten you?”

Her mouth fell open. She… What? His hand on her throat… Flipping through her memories, she realized yes, he had. He’d held her that way, but not once had it entered her mind that he could harm her.

She shivered. “I really wasn’t in my head, was I?”

As if to prove his point, he curled his hand around the side of her throat, the tip of his finger resting on her pulse. “You were in your head. But I was in your head too. And you gave me that trust, love. It’s a gift I treasure.”

Warmth blossomed in her chest and spread. He leaned in and kissed her, soft and sweet. A normal kiss that was far from demanding or brutal as she’d feared she’d only get from him.

“Tell me what you’re thinking, Tabbart.” He slid his hand down her throat to cradle her breast.

She met his hot gaze and knew she had a long way to go to understanding the workings of Stowe’s mind or how to act in his bed. “I’m thinking I’m glad you were on my set that day.”

She fell headlong into his gaze again, just as she had several weeks ago. She lost track of time but was pretty sure their stare lasted more than two minutes.

Chapter Four

“Are you all right for a few minutes? I’ll run to the grub house and get us some food. Then we can ride up to the ridge. They’re poking cows.”

“Poking?” Tabbart stared at Stowe. He stood next to the bed, shirtless with his fly open. She was having a hard time concentrating on what he was saying. Those muscles…

And she’d just had him between her thighs.

An amused smile tipped the corner of his mouth. He leaned over the bed and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. “You’re blushing. And you didn’t answer me.”

“Was there a question?” She missed him in this bed already. Why had he gotten out again? Oh yes. He was going to the grub house.

He reached around her and pinched her bottom—hard. She squeaked and arched away from his steely fingers. “I’ll be back in about ten minutes. Why don’t you get dressed? I want to show you around the ranch.”

Propping herself on her elbow, she contemplated his words. “Is it a good idea to…go out there?”

A crease bracketed his mouth, making him look more rugged, if such a thing were possible. “Do you prefer to hide in the bungalow for a week? Because I’m good with that, but you might get sore.”

She flushed hotter, and he laughed. The low rumble sent goose bumps skating over her skin.

“I promise to keep your identity safely hidden. Besides, the other ladies won’t be where we are.” With that, he slipped on his boots, positioned his hat and fastened his fly. She watched him swagger from the bedroom and heard the front door close.

Flopping onto the cushiony pillows, she sucked in a deep breath. The scents of Stowe were all over her, and the place on her behind still throbbed from his pinch.

This must be what the BDSM lifestyle is about—feeling his ownership over my body already.

She ran her hands down her stomach to her upper thighs. Her pussy had started pulsating the instant he’d pinched her.

How she’d landed in bed with him so quickly stunned her. She’d never expected to fall into his arms on the first day or even the second. He was probably accustomed to moving ladies through the bungalows quickly, though. She still couldn’t regret letting him seduce her.

She went into the bathroom to clean up. As she trailed cool water over the reddened areas of her throat, breasts and thighs, she relived every lick, nibble and kiss he’d given her. She’d just finished dressing in jeans and a simple knit top with a draping neckline when she heard the door open.

Heavy footsteps. And jangling? She poked her head out of the bathroom to see Stowe entering the bedroom. The breath was punched from her. God, he was all cowboy.

He’d put on a black Boot Knockers Ranch logo T-shirt. Her gaze zigzagged over the hard planes of his chest, abs, powerful thighs…all the way to his spurs. She jerked her gaze back to his and was rewarded with a grin.

“You may want to put this on. Your hair makes you more recognizable.” He tossed her a straw cowgirl hat. She fielded it from the air and turned it over in her hands.

“I haven’t worn a cowgirl hat since Halloween when I was five.”

“I bet you were the cutest little cowgirl,” he drawled, crowding her into the bathroom. He leaned against the granite counter and watched her with complete absorption. It made the mundane task of redoing her low ponytail seem special.

Guess that was his job.

Once she settled the hat over her hair, she blinked at herself in the mirror. “I can easily hide in this.”

“I know. C’mon.” He pushed off the granite and took her arm, leading her from the bungalow.

It was crazy that her hand felt perfectly right in his. Suddenly she understood why he’d taken her within hours of her arrival—she was far less nervous now that they’d gotten the “deed” out of the way.

And what they’d done hadn’t felt a bit as if she’d paid money for it.

“The grounds are beautiful. Do you have an army of gardeners?”

He pushed out a laugh. “Yeah, we’re called cowboys.”

She tipped her head back to look at him from beneath her hat.

He lifted her hand and scudded it down his washboard abs. One slow bump at a time. “How do you think we get bodies like this?”

Her knuckles nestled against the bulge in his jeans. Too easily she recalled the feel of his cock on her tongue—and inside her.

As if understanding her distraction, he raised her hand and grazed her knuckles with his teeth. “Can you ride?”

“Um…no.”

“That’s okay. The horse I have picked out will carry us both.” He led her across the thick turf to a picturesque barn trimmed in red, just like the bungalows. As they neared the barn, voices drifted on the slight breeze.

Tabbart froze in her tracks.

Stowe tugged her hand, his dark eyes mesmerizing. “Don’t think about them. Nobody will know you.”

“Maybe I should come up with a different name,” she whispered. “In case someone asks.”

He smiled. “No one will ask.”

The barn was cool and shady, with spots of sun pooling on the clean floorboards from windows cut high in the walls. Hay and horse were good smells, and she relaxed a bit. Especially when the voices moved away from the barn.

Stowe released her hand and, with calm yet precise movements, led a horse from a stall. As he fitted it with tack, Tabbart watched his hands. He didn’t waste a movement. He was either taking care of business or soothing the horse.

Just as he’d done with her.

She wrapped her arms around her middle and squeezed.

He twitched his jaw toward the open doors. “Go on out, love.”

As she walked into the sunlight, she spotted a cowboy walking with his lady. Tabbart’s heart leaped into her throat. She prepared to run for it, but then Stowe was at her back.

“Nobody can see your beautiful face from here. If anybody gets close enough, tip your head down so your hat covers you.” He fiddled with a strap on the saddle, then cupped his hands.

Tabbart looked at them. “Do you want me to step in your hands?”

“Yep.” The strange merger of Texas drawl and Aussie accent thrilled her senses.

Carefully she put her foot in his hand. He launched her up and she swung her leg over. Even though she had visions of the beast racing wildly across the ranch with an inexperienced rider on its back, the horse was rock solid.

Stowe patted its neck and mounted behind Tabbart. His hard, warm body cut any fears she might have had. As he reeled her close with an arm under her breasts, he flicked his tongue over the shell of her ear.

“You’ve done well already. A born cowgirl.” He clicked his tongue and the horse started walking.

“What’s this horse’s name?”

“Custer.”

“As in Custer’s Last Stand?”

“I suppose, though I’m still not great with American history.”

She smiled and pressed closer to him. It was insane how in tune with him she felt. In hours he’d practically stripped away her inhibitions. “Tell me about your home.”

The horse rolled under them as he guided it in a slow walk across the valley. The main buildings of the ranch were behind them, leaving her alone with Stowe.

“Well, it’s just about as rough and isolated where I come from as it is here. I grew up around animals. Been cowboying since I could shimmy onto the back of a horse. My parents are still there.”

“Do you see them often?”

“Not often. Nor Amelia. It was good to see her.”

Tabbart was more than glad he’d visited too. He nipped her earlobe and she started at the small bite. Suddenly she remembered the exact place he’d pinched her ass. Somehow he was connecting the dots using pain. This was way out of her comfort zone, but she wasn’t afraid.

He bathed the hurt with his tongue, making her nipples ache.

“You’re good at maneuvering around hat brims.”

“I’ve been teasing lassies for a long time.”

“How long have you been on this ranch?”

His chest vibrated against her back. “Enough years to know what I’m doing.”

So he wasn’t comfortable giving particulars. She got it. “And before that?”

“I worked on some ranches. Cowpoke, then I graduated to cowboy.”

“What’s the difference?” The horse jostled her, but Stowe’s arm was comforting. He hitched her higher so his thighs cradled her ass.

“Difference is a cowpoke is just a hand. He does all the shitty work.”

“And the cowboy doesn’t?”

“Oh, he does too. Ranchin’ is hard. But the cowboy is more of a businessman, thinking about how to run the cattle. Taking it all into consideration. Just as you must think about shopping lists before you cook.”

Her smile spread. “Good way to put it. But you said they’re poking cows and we’re going to watch. What do you mean? Branding them?”

“Yeah. I like to help out. We’ve just gotten a bunch from auction.”

“So you don’t only deal in women.”

“I should spank you for that.” His words were pure honey trickling over her, though the threat lay just beneath his tone. Her stomach quivered even as her core heated.

“Wh-what for?”

“For thinking this ranch is all about pleasing ladies. We built it with sweat and blood and hard work.”

“I’m starting to see that.”

He lightly closed his fingers over her nipple. The rough touch through her top and bra shouldn’t feel as sharp and erotic as it did, but she could barely keep still. “You haven’t seen anything yet, love. But you will.”

She had a good feeling he meant more than the labor put into the ranch.

As the horse took ten more steps—twenty—Stowe kept his fingers clamped around her nipple. It puckered, swelled. Began to sting in a way she wanted more of.

And he knew it.

She took shallow breaths, concentrating on the hairs around his leather watchband and wanting his lips around her nipple while he teased her slippery folds.

In a day she’d become a total wanton. He might be good at ranching, but he was better at women. At least in her experience.

He released her nipple, and she gave a soft cry. Without the steady pressure, her sensitive bud seemed to swell and throb more. She missed his touch already. Then his fingertip was at the corner of her mouth. She closed her eyes, resisting the urge to turn in to his hand and suck his finger into her mouth to taste his salt.

All of a sudden a simple horseback ride had become unbearably erotic.

A dog darted out some distance before them. It wasn’t until the rider followed that she realized a cowboy was roping a stray cow. He whirled the rope with total precision and tossed. The circlet came down over the cow’s neck and the cowboy guided his horse to the side, pulling the rope taut.

Another rider appeared over the ridge. He jumped off his horse, boots skidding down the slope, and he wrestled the animal to the ground.

It seemed a little rough to Tabbart, but she was smart enough to know where the grade-A beef she grilled came from. She sat up straighter, watching with interest.

At a shrill whistle, Stowe sent their horse running up to the level ground. Tabbart was surprised to see a sort of camp setup. A tent for shade and several coolers probably filled with cold drinks. About ten cowboys on horseback were driving a group of cows toward a makeshift corral. Or maybe it was a paddock. The only terminology she knew was
carmelization
,
clarifying
and dozens of other things she could do to make tasty and beautiful food.

Stowe stopped the horse and slid off. Then he reached up for Tabbart. When she dismounted, he stared into her eyes. “I’m going to help out here. A spot of shade and some cool drinks for you.” He pointed with a jerk of his chin.

She smiled and had started toward the tent when he delivered a slap to her ass. She wheeled around, a gasp on her lips. But he was jumping back onto Custer and riding into the midst of the cowboys and animals.

With every step she took toward the tent, she felt the sting of his smack. Actually, she could feel the outline of his fingers. Another dot joined to the hard pinch on her nipple and the one on her behind.

The tension low in her belly was a reminder that this man knew how to affect her. Big time.

The tent had been erected over some tree stumps, so she used one as a seat. After a few minutes of watching the men herd cows, she realized how parched she was. And hot too. How did these guys actually work in this sauna that was Texas?

She wished for the air conditioning and cool sheets of the bungalow. Sweating with Stowe seemed like the best exertion.

With her gaze riveted on his straight back, she went to a cooler and found a bottled water. When Stowe swung the lasso, she stopped with the cap half-opened. His biceps, triceps and nameless other muscles flexed and bulged as he whirled the rope. The poetry of his release might as well have been painted on her body in chocolate. She couldn’t get that water down her throat fast enough.

Stowe’s lasso hit its target, circling a cow that had escaped the group. He drew up, yanked. Another cowboy hit the ground and wrangled the animal to its side. The cowboy opened the cow’s mouth and another man bent over it.

They were checking the animals’ health, it seemed. A syringe of medicine was squirted into the cow’s throat and then they let it up. Stowe coiled his rope again and turned to the next cow.

Tabbart’s fascination with him grew. Each time he threw the rope, every click and whistle that sounded from his lips…she was lured deeper into his world. On set, when he’d looked at her, she’d been enveloped by him. That hadn’t gone away after he’d left. And now it was building. How deep would she go before her days ended?

A cowboy stopped before the tent, looking hot and dusty. She hurried to gather bottles of water into her arms and rushed forward to pass them out to the few guys congregating there. He accepted the water with a nod and not a hint of recognition in his eyes.

“Thank ya, ma’am.”

Stowe didn’t come for a drink. Instead he climbed the metal rungs of the walls of the holding pen. Tabbart stopped breathing as he moved like a monkey, using his arms to pull himself while huge cows with long horns milled around his feet.

“Ya! Get. Ya!” With a boot, he nudged the bodies where he wanted, which was through an opening into another pen. A gate was closed and the cowboys converged on the next animal.