T he bulls had arrived.

Fighting the knot in her belly, Jordan Shore gripped the corral railing as the massive stock truck made its way through the night-darkened rodeo grounds. Whinnies from the nearby horse barn mixed with bellows from the soon-to-be unloaded Brahmas.

Like many competitors, she’d arrived at the county fairgrounds the day before the rodeo was set to begin. But where her fellow barrel racers, as well as the bronc and bull riders and ropers, were primarily concerned with getting settled in, she’d come early so she would have time to study the Brahmas.

So she could come face-to-face with her fears.

Whoever was driving the stock truck handled it as if he’d been jockeying the unwieldy thing for years, expertly backing until it was only a couple of feet from the corral where the bulls were contained until their event. Shivering, Jordan sensed the animals’ impatience at being penned up. If she had the brains of a gnat, she would leave right now. But even with her heart pounding and her surgically repaired right leg aching, she held her ground.

If she didn’t, she might never win the biggest round of her life.

Mercury lights illuminated much of the grounds, but back behind the outbuildings, deep shadows provided the perfect opportunity for her nightmares to breed. And, boy, were they breeding, making her hands and between her shoulder blades and in the small of her back sweat.

Then the driver opened the door and jumped down from the high cab, and she couldn’t breathe.

Cougar Lighthorse.

A sharp pain turned her attention to her right palm. Damn! She’d been gripping the railing so tight she’d forced a wood sliver into her flesh. Yanking out the splinter with her teeth briefly distracted her from the reality of Cougar’s presence. By the time she’d turned her attention back to him, the tall, solid Indian, and whoever had been in the passenger’s seat, had moved to the stock door.

Wiping her sweating hands on her well-worn jeans, she hurried around to the rear of the corral. Her riding boots thudded dully on the packed earth, echoing her heartbeat. Given his need to concentrate on what he was about to do, she doubted Cougar was paying attention to his surroundings. Good. This way she had more time to come to grips, to comprehend, to resign herself. And, if truth be known, to ogle.

She was asking herself if two men on foot really could unload who knew how many two-thousand-pound bulls, when several mounted cowboys appeared. They spoke briefly with Cougar, but the bulls’ continual bellowing made it impossible for her to hear anything.

One of the men on horseback opened the corral gate. A minute later the rear door to the stock truck swung open. Heart in her throat, she frantically looked around. If one of those monsters broke loose, where could she run? The barn? Could she reach it in time?

Stop it! Damnit, get over it!

To her surprise, although the bulls fairly charged down the ramp and exploded into their temporary home, they almost immediately calmed down without giving her so much as a glance. Of course, finding hay and water waiting for them had a great deal to do with things. In less than five minutes a dozen Brahmas had been secured in the sturdy enclosure. It was so dark in there she barely glimpsed their massive forms, but morning was soon enough for that stroke-threatening task.

Male voices tore her attention from the bulls. Cougar and the others had gathered near the truck cab. Occasional laughter told her the conversation was less than serious. Although thoughts of being surrounded by so much testosterone intimidated her, she wanted to laugh with them, to absorb their strength and competence, to thank Cougar for holding her tight and strong and safe during that memorable day a year ago when pain and panic chewed at her sanity.

Heat touched her nerve endings. Unsettled, she closed her hand around her throat. If a bull—no! What she felt spoke of something far different from danger, at least the kind of danger she’d experienced, thanks to one of those beasts. This was a hell of a lot more carnal. If she didn’t—

Cougar had left the others and was walking toward her.

Her legs trembled. She wanted to run. She needed to stay. Watching him, she concentrated on a body carved from a lifetime of physical labor. His jeans barely contained powerful thighs, and yet what she could see of his ass was tight and minimal. Like most true cowboys, his belly nestled between prominent hip bones. If this was rodeo day, he’d be sporting a handtooled leather belt complete with decorative brass buckle, but tonight he hadn’t bothered with flash. He’d tucked in his long-sleeved Western shirt and had rolled up the sleeves, exposing hard forearms capable of handling the wildest bronc. His shoulders were broad enough for any task. Midnight hair so long he’d contained it with something at the nape of his neck spoke of his Native American heritage.

Although he was now so close he might see what she was doing, she couldn’t stop herself from glancing down. There. Wrapped tightly in denim, the bulge she’d thought about more times than he would ever know.

“Jordan? Jordan Shore?” His voice hit her nervous system like a drumbeat.

“Cougar.”

He held out his hand. In the uncertain light, she couldn’t see all the details, but memory told her of long, strong bones and sun-weathered flesh. Although her hand shook, she closed her fingers around what she could of his. She felt small and feminine. Turned on.

“I heard you were going to be here,” he said, still claiming her hand. “Is this the first time you’ve competed since…”

“Just a couple of local events. Nothing as big as this.”

“Or with my bulls around.”

The statement weighted the air. Although robbed of breath, she mustered the strength to pull free. Before she could think of a response, one of the men called out.

“I have to go,” he said. “But we need to talk.”

“I don’t—”

“Where are you staying?”

She pointed toward the parking lot reserved for participants. “It’s a double horse trailer. Faded blue and white, sleeping area.”

“I’ll find it. You’ll be there later?”

“Yes. But you don’t—”

“Yeah, I do. We do.”

 

Although she was tired after the ten-hour drive from the family ranch in Harney County, Oregon, Jordan hadn’t undressed. In the hour since she’d spoken to Cougar, she’d checked on her trained quarter horse, Trixie, dropped by the trailer of a woman she’d competed against for several years, and read the local newspaper. Now, because the night was hot, she was sitting in a lawn chair in front of her rig, boots off, attention shifting between the moths swarming around the lights and the comings and goings of those around her. She could have joined the large group in the next row but didn’t because experience had taught her that someone would bring up her accident. She understood their curiosity but wasn’t interested in rehashing the details. Besides, there were certain questions she didn’t want to try to answer.

For the second time that night, something hot shocked her nerves. She didn’t have to look to know who was walking among the many vehicles, but she did. Cougar still carried himself as if he had limitless strength, but his steps were slow. Either his day had been as long as or longer than hers, or he wasn’t looking forward to this.

“I’m here,” she said.

He nodded, came closer, stopped when maybe four feet separated them. She’d known this man all her life, but there’d always been a certain awkwardness or awareness or something between them, and the years hadn’t changed that. Telling herself it was the civilized thing to do, she pointed at a lawn chair she’d propped against her trailer. Nodding, he set it up so he could sit across from her. Because she’d left a light on in her sleeping/eating quarters, the night only nibbled at his edges. He’d always been quiet, while she’d been what her parents called the ultimate chatterbox. Now, however, she couldn’t think of a word to say.

You’re making me crazy, Cougar. I’ve been attracted to you since I was old enough to know the meaning of the word. Why the hell do you have to look so damn sexy and feel so dangerous?

“Long day?” she brilliantly came up with.

“Long. At least these bulls are accustomed to traveling.”

“You’ve really gotten into stock contracting, haven’t you?” She tried to lean back, but her body refused to relax. Her skin jumped and hummed, and she couldn’t keep enough air in her lungs.

“It’s working out.”

“Do you enjoy it?”

“Yeah, I do.” He smiled, revealing perfect white teeth in contrast to his deeply tanned face. “Those years of working for your father taught me a lot about handling livestock.”

Except for those few minutes a year ago. “What about your father?”

“He’s doing good. He and Mom are in Arizona for some kind of powwow.”

“I’ve been meaning to thank him. When your dad retired, mine finally admitted he couldn’t run the ranch without his foreman—and that maybe his kids really were capable of taking over the operation.”

“That’s what you’re doing? Running the ranch?”

Despite the wear on her emotions, she’d been meeting Cougar’s black eyes. Now she looked down at her right leg. “Not really. The truth is, I’m addicted to competing. At least, I was until I did a number on this. Fortunately my brothers aren’t the incompetents I accused them of being all the time we were growing up.”

“You didn’t mess up your leg. One of my bulls did.”

There. The truth laid out between them.

“All right. Your bull. Rampage. He’s aptly named.”

“He’s here.”

The heat he’d pumped into her just by breathing flowed out to be replaced by ice. She didn’t remember lifting her head, but now that she had, she couldn’t tear her gaze off those high cheekbones and broad nose. “Oh.”

“I wanted you to know. Reporters might pick up on it. The announcer’s probably going to say something.”

“I know.” She started to shake. “But thanks for the reminder.”

“That’s not the only reason I came looking for you.”

Through the years she’d seen countless mares backed into the corner by countless stallions. She’d taken bulls to cows and watched the sometimes violent servicing. Why those images came to mind right now escaped her—or, at least, she told herself she had no explanation for the comparison.

“Why did you?”

“To see how you’re doing. And to apologize.”

Quit looking at me like that! As though you want to throw me onto the ground and bury yourself in me.

Forcefully reminding herself that she was putting her own spin on his gaze, she shook her head. “You didn’t open a gate and let Rampage out when he was having a bad hair day in spades. You didn’t plow into my mare and send me flying.”

Now it was his turn to jerk his head. “I’ve relived the accident a thousand times. No matter how hard I try, I can’t make it come out different.”

Realizing she wasn’t the only one who hadn’t been able to let go of the past shocked her. But, then, if she’d had to hold a frightened and bleeding accident victim, the memory would have stayed with her, too. “At least it’s behind us.”

He stood, the movement both weary and effortless. “Is it? We’ll know better once this rodeo is behind us.”

Us? She might have questioned his word use if he hadn’t held out his hands. Not giving herself time to ask what the hell she thought she was doing, she let him draw her to her feet.

“Funny how life turns out, isn’t it?” He continued to grip her fingers. “While we were growing up we were pretty formal around each other. There you were, my dad’s boss’s daughter. I knew there’d be hell to pay from my old man if I was anything except respectful toward you. I understood my place.”

“Your what?” Why did his hands have to be so warm and strong, his body so close, her libido so in overdrive? “You scared me.”

“Scared?”

She looked up, up, shaken to realize how much taller and substantial, more everything he was. “Every time I saw you, you were doing something physical. You were so muscular.” You still are. “I’d watch you on horseback and envy you because you made it look effortless.”

“You ride as if you were born to it.”

“Hardly.” She laughed more as an attempt to calm her nerves than anything. “It took countless hours in a saddle for it to become anything close to second nature, while you…”

“What?”

Stop holding my hand. Give me back my space, because if you don’t, I’m going to jump your bones. “I was going to say that your being Indian made your horsemanship instinctual, but that’s stereotyping.”

His chuckle rumbled up from somewhere deep inside and slid over her skin. Her breasts tightened, and her nipples hardened. She struggled not to acknowledge the moist heat between her legs. Damnit, a man’s laugh shouldn’t have this impact on her.

But Cougar Lighthorse wasn’t just any man.

J ordan’s living quarters while on the road were what a horse-trailer salesman might label efficient. She was more inclined to call the combination eating/living/sleeping area cramped to the max, but her primary need had been for something large enough to haul her horses and gear. She’d joked that she could sit at the table and cook dinner on the doll-sized stove. A cloth curtain separated that space from the bed, which, although only double-sized, took up so much space she had to walk sideways to get around it.

At the moment, she and Cougar were standing in front of the red and black cotton, which not-too-effectively hid her bed. If pressed, she couldn’t say why she’d invited him in; maybe the truth was she didn’t want to admit what had motivated her.

“A little smaller than mine, but not by much,” he said. Only a few inches separated them, and her skin was telling her that wasn’t nearly enough. Other areas of her anatomy wanted to get a hell of a lot closer. “I have more storage room.”

“I keep most of my belongings back with the horses,” she explained. “Since I take only two mares with me, I have the space.” The light that had barely touched him when they were outside now played over his features. If he’d been born two hundred years ago, surely he would have been selected as his tribe’s chief. There was something commanding about his strong facial bones, especially the large and deep-set eyes that reminded her of polished obsidian. No wonder he’d intimidated her while she was growing up.

And now she’d brought him into this cramped space.

“W—well”—she stammered over the word—“that’s pretty much it. Not much of a tour. And I—I imagine you need to get back to your stock.”

“Jordan?”

Don’t say my name that way. “What?”

He leaned against the metal wall; then, when it creaked, he pushed himself off. The move brought him even closer. “Every time I think about the day Rampage attacked your horse, one thing stands out.”

“What?” She licked her lips and tried again. “My screaming?”

“You only did that once.” He rested his hands on her shoulders as though he had every right to her body. “The way you felt in my arms.”

Rampage, who’d shattered a section of the bucking chute he’d been placed in, had charged into the arena while she and her mare were in it. Rampage had run right at Trixie and knocked Jordan to the ground, trapping her leg under Trixie’s weight. Fortunately Trixie had suffered only bruises and a blow to her less-than-calm nervous system. Unfortunately, while her mare scrambled back onto her feet, Jordan’s attempt to stand had resulted in a piercing cry and teeth-loosening pain. To make matters worse, Rampage wasn’t finished.

“You’re shaking.” Cougar’s fingers clamped down around her shoulders. He drew her against him.

Back up. Stay in control.

But she could feel his heat, his strength, his cock. “I—I guess I am.” Determined to regain control, she dug her toes into the sad excuse for carpet. “Sorry about that.”

“Memory lane?”

“’Fraid so. Fortunately it’s nothing I can’t live with.”

“Maybe.” When he relaxed his grip she told herself he’d done his good deed by the traumatized barrel racer with the pinned-together leg bones. That was before he wrapped his arms around her back and pressed her against his chest, before her own arms found their way around him.

He smelled of the cowboy way of life. He might not yet be in rodeo regalia, but the impact was there. This was a man who made his living much as those who’d settled this land once had. He was in tune with the environment and understood the vital role horses and other livestock had once played. His ancestors once hunted with bows and arrows and fought their enemies with knives and spears. They’d prayed to the sun, moon, rivers, bears, and eagles.

And tonight a great-grandson of those proud and resourceful people was holding her.

“Do you want me to leave?” His breath heated the top of her head.

“No.”

“Because if I stay…”

Just like that. No fumbling, no awkward exploration of her limits.

“I want you to.”

He leaned back, putting space between their upper bodies but keeping the pelvis-to-pelvis contact. “I’d like to see your leg.”

Taken aback, she could only stare. She’d been so sure that sex was on his mind—just as it was with her. “It, ah, isn’t the most beautiful thing in the world. The scars are going to fade some more, but I’m afraid my days as a runway model are behind me.”

Instead of responding to her lame excuse for a light note, he unfastened the snap on her jeans, and then stopped with his fingers on her zipper as though he had every right in the world to do so. “Not many people have seen this, have they?”

Trying not to tremble, she shook her head.

“Any men?”

None of your damn business! “No.”

“Why not?”

“Look, my life is none of your—”

“Yes, it is. An animal I own altered that life. I need to see the full extent of that alteration.”

Oh. Well, in that case…“Maybe I should have sent you the bill.”

“I tried to pay it but was told your insurance covered everything.”

In other words, he’d been willing to assume financial responsibility for something that wasn’t his fault; it had been determined that the boards Rampage had shattered were rotten.

His fingers still rested over her navel, warm life seeping through denim to heat her flesh. “I, ah, I just shaved my legs.”

Apparently taking her lame comment as approval, he pulled down on the zipper tab. Because the jeans were snug, they remained in place, but he’d exposed her practical panties. Truth was she loved the sensual feel of a hip-hugging bikini, but experience had taught her that long hours in the saddle or behind the wheel weren’t compatible with tight underwear, not that she would ever tell him that.

Eyes on hers but unreadable, he tugged on her jeans until they clung to her thighs, and then told her to sit down. She pushed aside the curtain and slumped onto the end of her bed. Then, while he finished the disrobing, she stared down at the skin creases around her waist.

Kneeling before her, he placed her foot on his thigh and began running his hands over her leg. Her tibia had been shattered in two places and tendons torn. Surgical pins now anchored the compromised bone, the pins’ positions identified by small round scars. His fingers lingered there.

“Are you still doing physical therapy?”

“No. Thank goodness that’s behind me. By the end of a day it aches, but much of the time I don’t think about it.”

He ran his knuckle over her shin, prompting her to grind her buttocks into the bed. “About the break at least.”

What do you mean by that? “Are—are you satisfied?” It took all she had to remain sitting instead of collapsing back onto the bed. The instant the words were out of her mouth, she regretted them. Satisfied couldn’t be further from how she felt.

Instead of answering, he rocked back and looked up at her. He rested his hands over her knees, holding her in place, letting her know how easily he could spread her legs.

“It could have been worse. At least Rampage didn’t gore you.”

He does in my nightmares, which is why I can’t get past doing whatever I have to to end them. “No, he didn’t. Cougar….”

“Do you want me to leave?”

“No,” she blurted. “No. Do you want to?”

“No.”

He stood, healthy muscles effortlessly bringing him to his feet. His legs pressed against hers. She had to place her arms behind her and look up in order to see him. How could this man she’d known nearly all her life be so intimidating, so overwhelming?

Because he is.

Not asking if she wanted this, he took hold of her shirt and tugged. The snaps gave way. With her gaze still locked on his face, she nevertheless knew what he was looking at: practical white bra designed to minimize the jiggling caused by a galloping horse. He pulled the shirt away from her breasts and as far off her shoulders as the fabric would stretch. Although she could have finished the job, she continued to let her arms support her while he gazed at her newly exposed flesh. Pinpoints of energy flickered over her throat, breasts, belly. Beneath the layers of clothing waited a woman too long denied her sexuality. Nothing else mattered.

“You’re beautiful. When you started changing from a child to a woman, every time I looked at you, it hit me anew.”

“You never said anything.”

His mouth curled upward, and he rested his hand at the back of her neck. “We hardly ever spoke to each other, did we?”

“No, we didn’t.”

“Because you were the boss’s daughter.”

“No.” When she shook her head, his hand shared in the journey. “That wasn’t it. At least, I never felt that way.”

“Then, what?” He leaned over, brought his mouth dangerously close to hers. His grip on her neck increased.

“You intimidated me! All right? You intimidated me.” Just as you’re doing now.

“Did you think I was going to scalp you?”

“Don’t go there! Maybe it was your name.” Thinking had gotten so hard. She couldn’t find the words for what she needed to say. “Cougar. A prey animal.”

Still holding his body all but suspended over hers, he started tracing the top of her bra with the side of his thumb. Each step of the journey resonated through her. Beyond caring about the consequences, she spread her legs and welcomed him in. He pressed his knee against her crotch, the touch saying everything.

Once again his mouth turned up. “My mother wanted me to have a white-bread name, something she thought would make it easier for me to fit in when and if I moved away.”

His family and various relatives and friends lived in a sparsely populated section of the county in what she’d always thought of as an informal reservation. Although the children attended the small district school, for the most part, whites and Indians stuck with their own kind. His relatives and friends wouldn’t think twice about a black-eyed and -haired boy named Cougar, but that boy couldn’t spend his entire life in that closed-in world.

“I’m glad she didn’t win. Your name is right for you.”

“Even if it intimidated you?”

I’m still intimidated—only, maybe what I feel now has everything to do with being a woman and you a man.

S he loved the sound of snaps popping. Even more rewarding was the sight of his dark chest. Although she was still trying to wrap her mind around the reality of what she’d just done, she wasted no time running her tongue over his flesh, because a bold and hungry creature had taken control of her.

Apparently Cougar had no objection to being treated like her personal boy toy because as she continued bathing his silken and yet hard flesh, he explored her arms with callused fingertips. She’d taken a few seconds to shuck off her shirt and unhook her bra. The loose garment still covered her breasts, frustrating her and hopefully tantalizing him.

These moments of exploration were about foreplay, nothing else. She’d think later, question later, maybe regret later.

Embracing her decision, she clamped her knees around his thighs and wondered if she could keep him there forever.

Maybe not. One moment she was sitting upright; the next he’d pushed her back on the bed and was looming over her. Much as she wanted to say something, anything, she couldn’t.

Her legs still hung over the edge. Because he continued to stand within the shelter of her knees, she might have told herself she had some control over what was happening, but she didn’t want that. She wanted to be used, worshipped, fucked.

There. The single word that says it all.

Her cunt heated. Moisture built from deep inside, softening and preparing her.

“My panties. Get rid of them.”

Grabbing the elastic, he tugged them off, the effort made easy because she arched upward and lifted her ass off the mattress. Still only half believing what was happening, she reached for her bra straps. Shaking his head, he pressed her arms onto the bed. His gaze warned her not to move. Her lips both numb and swelling, she nodded.

He closed his fingers over the straps and guided them out to her shoulders, and then directed her to lift her arms. Although she had to grit her teeth to keep from begging him to hurry, he took what seemed to be forever to uncover her breasts. The bra landed on the top of the rest of her clothes. Folding his arms across his chest, he stared down at her.

Naked. Exposed. Ready.

By contrast, he still had on his boots and jeans.

“You’re making me crazy!” she gasped.

“Not nearly as crazy as you’ve made me for years.”

“What?”

“You think I’ve never wanted to do this?”

She reached up, but then fell back again onto the bed. Inch by maddening inch, he unfolded his arms and let them dangle by his sides. Furious, she ground her knees against his legs. The effort earned her a chuckle.

“All right. All right.” She licked her lips and tried again. “Do you want me to say I’ve wanted to have sex with you?”

“Only if you mean it.”

“Yes. Damnit, yes!”

“Why?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Her belly clenched. It took every bit of self-control not to offer her pussy to him like some mare in heat. “You have a killer body. Strong, rugged, masculine.”

“That’s the only reason?”

“What do you want me to say?”

“Nothing. Nothing at all.”

Bothered by his pensive tone, she tried to concentrate on his expression. But maybe he knew what she was doing and had no intention of letting her succeed. And maybe he’d grown weary of talking. Eyes half closed, he pressed a hand down on her mons. His other hand sought and found her cunt.

“You’re wet.”

“Yes.”

If he’d asked permission, she would have granted him full access. Instead he claimed her. His work-roughened finger slid in and along the wall of her vagina. Although she fought to stay silent, a long, low groan rolled out of her. Tilting her pelvis upward, she lifted her head so she could watch.

He made her vagina his playground, sliding in and out repeatedly. She clutched the coverlet, and sweat coated her throat and the small of her back. The muscles had been stripped from her legs. Her lower body became so weak she couldn’t think how to move.

Drifting in a sea created by her need for sex, she was slow to comprehend that he was no longer finger-fucking her. Instead he’d taken hold of her labia and was drawing the loose flesh toward him. Intrigued by her imprisonment, she clutched the hand still pressing on her mons. “So fast. So damn fast.”

“You don’t want this?”

“Yes, damnit. I do.”

“So do I.”

On the tail of his admission, he grabbed her hips and pulled her closer. With her being robbed of his hands on her sex, she started to sit up. “Don’t play games! Don’t tease me.”

“I don’t intend to,” he said, his strong fingers pressing her back onto the bed. “But I’ve wanted to do this for a long time. It’s going to happen—my way.”

My way.

An image of being tied and at his mercy flooded her mind. She who barely tolerated being indoors, and who had nearly lost her mind while in the hospital, reveled in the thought of being his to do with what he wanted. He would rule her world and body, keep her teetering on the brink. In that world of her imagination, she would do whatever he commanded of her. Her reward would be a forced-upon-her climax, and she would worship him for it.

His mouth on a breast pulled her back to the reality of a cramped enclosure. He sucked, licked, circled, nibbled her rock-hard nub and bathed her until her breast became as wet and warm as her cunt.

Her now-ignored cunt.

“Take off your clothes.” Given his greater strength and control, her order was laughable. “I want to see you. All of you.”

“A warning,” he said and shifted his attention back to her pussy. This time his fingers seemed to care only about her clit and the space between her vaginal opening and anus. “Once I’m naked, sex is going to come quick.”

“Sounds—sounds good to me.”

A fingernail feathered over her clit, forcing out a shiver. She grabbed his hand but made no attempt to pull him off her. Her cheeks were on fire. Her thigh muscles had melted.

“No more foreplay?”

“Cougar! Damnit, do me!”

By way of response, he slid his hands under her buttocks and leveraged her upward. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw that he’d slumped down so that he was on his haunches, his mouth close, so close to her cunt.

His breath! Warm. Alive. Skittering over her pussy and heating the fluids that had leaked out of her.

“Please, please.”

“This is it?” He blew on her. “Your world doesn’t go any further than this?”

“No. No. Oh, god, please.”

“You feel whole?”

Whole? “Damnit, Cougar! Get out of those clothes.”

Straightening, he cocked his head to the side. For so long she all but squirmed under his scrutiny, he studied her from the top of her head all the way down to her toes. His gaze lingered longest on her blatantly displayed pussy, yet although she felt more exposed than she ever had, she didn’t close her legs. After all, he’d touched her nearly everywhere, blown his breath over nearly every inch. Need lashed her, but she clamped down on her plea for his cock and waited him out.

Displaying more of the grace that had already stolen her breath, he stood, bracing one hand on her belly as he did. The other swiped her inner thighs, making her jump. Not taking his gaze off her, he unfastened his jeans. Then he sat beside her so he could remove his boots. Once again he ran his fingers over her, this time his knuckles dragging along her entire vulva. She cried out in need. In want.

Through a haze, she recorded the last of his undressing. Then he positioned himself between her legs and lowered himself onto his knees. She tried to sit up only to be flattened against the bed again.

“Stay there,” he ordered. “This time it’s my show.”

This time.

The fear that he might deny her release caused her to dig her nails into his forearms, but if she hurt him, he gave no indication. Yet again he explored her breasts, drawing circles around them, taking hold of her nipples and drawing them up. Embracing and fighting the sensations, she caressed his hips with her legs.

Just as she entertained thoughts of surging up and closing her teeth around his nubs, he gripped her pelvis and tugged, pulling her so far off the bed that only his body kept her from sliding to the floor.

His cock held her in place, pressed against her labia, insisted on being granted entrance. “Wait,” she gasped as he thrust toward her. “Wait. I’ll—let me—” Thinking to pull apart her heated flesh to expose her opening, she tried to slide her hands between them.

“No.” Grabbing her wrists with so much strength he cut off her circulation, he held them in the air. “Not yet.”

“I can’t—damnit, don’t make me beg.”

“I have—I have to…”

He was gone. Scrambling away from her on his knees, reaching for his jeans, pulling out his wallet, opening it, extracting a rubber.

How could she have forgotten something so essential! Berating herself, she watched him slide it over a cock so large and hard and hot-looking she wasn’t sure the protection was up to the task. Then he was back where he belonged—between her legs.

Her inner thighs ached, forcing her to acknowledge how long she’d been spread like this. Even with the flimsy door open a crack, the air was stuffy. She could hear the livestock; indistinct, mostly male voices; truck tires crunching over gravel. Those sounds were part of her world, and yet tonight they meant nothing. Only Cougar did.

This time he had no trouble finding her entrance. This time he slid home with the first thrust.

How did this happen? Why am I having sex with this man?

Her questions faded under the pure and basic sensation of having her entrance filled. They’d captured each other in the most elemental of ways, and nothing else mattered. Again he slid his hands under her pelvis and lifted. Instead of holding him in place with the strength in her legs, she kept them splayed. Her restless fingers found his forearms, and she held on, her sweating palms recording muscle, bone, hair, veins.

Eyes locked on her face, he thrust, pulled back, thrust again. She quickly learned his rhythm, making it possible for her to match him attack for attack. The bed rocked under her, prompting her to wonder—briefly—if the vehicle itself might be in motion. It didn’t matter. Onlookers could draw their own conclusions.

She wanted to fuck. Needed to fuck.

Lived to fuck!

Her back and legs bore most of her weight, and she became aware of the coverlet abrading her skin. Still, the need to pull him into her as deep as possible made the discomfort pale in comparison. Looking at him, sensing how naked her expression must be, she imagined his buttocks contracting over and over again. Artificial light glinted off his sweat-soaked chest. The hair at his temple broke free of the leather cord designed to contain it, sliding forward and darkening his features even more.

This man, this man she really didn’t know, was fucking her. Driving into her offered cunt. Watching her breasts shake and pushing against her pelvis.

Heat. Building. Sensation powering her forward.

He pounded deep into her. But suddenly, instead of retreating, he remained in place, his muscles stonelike and yet trembling. “I can’t—can’t.”

“Can’t what?” she gasped.

“Wait. Too fast, damnit.”

No! She wasn’t ready for their union to end. As he pulled back, she went deep inside herself, left rational thought behind, and focused on her body’s messages. She burned from both the effort of matching his frenzy and from the heat boiling out of her. A little more, and she’d reach that sweet explosion.

“I’m going to come!” she sobbed. Thrashing her head from side to side, she dug her elbows into the bed to keep herself from sliding away from him. Again his cock slammed into her, sliding hotly along her inner tissues, wetly sanding countless nerve endings. “Damn, damn.”

“Already?”

Not caring whether she might hurt him, she dug her nails into his flesh. Close. So damn close! Release just out of reach.

No! He couldn’t be leaving her! She needed him; her pussy demanded him. Both terrified and angry, she gripped his elbows and tried to pull him close again. He’d clenched his jaw. His eyes were the barest of slits, and his nostrils flared.

Empty. Nearly deserted.

No!

Hot, wet bulk plowed into her, sliding home like some conquering hero. Beyond anything civilized, she wrapped her legs around his hips and buttocks and made him part of her. When he tried to pull away, she refused to release him. He was hers! She couldn’t climb the mountain without him.

His cock shuddered, twitched, strained.

“Yes!” she gasped. “Yes!”

“Yes!”

Although the damnable rubber caught and contained his cum, her cunt didn’t care. It drank of the gift and grew strong. Took her to the edge. Threw her over.

“Shit. Shit.”

 

Her muscles still felt as though they’d run a marathon as she watched Cougar dress. She stared at him, not just because she loved the look of him, but because she needed to try to make sense of what had happened. She’d never, absolutely never jumped in bed with a man like this. There’d been no seduction, no candlelit dinner, no whispered sweet nothings. Instead they’d fucked like animals. He was a stallion, a bull, she a mare or cow in heat.

But as powerful as it had been, their fucking hadn’t entirely quieted her need. If he didn’t leave soon—

“You really have to go?”

“Yeah. The bulls—”

“Ah. When will I see you again?”

“Tomorrow.” He stood over her with his unzipped jeans hugging his hips and his shirt open. “Jordan, I didn’t want it to be over so fast, but it’s been a while since I’ve…”

“‘Didn’t want’? Have you been planning this?”

T rixie shivered under Jordan. Although she’d anticipated her mare’s nervousness, Jordan couldn’t put her attention fully on distracting the horse from everything going on around them. No matter how resolutely she tried to focus on her upcoming ride, her mind refused to stay in the here and now.

It was evening. Time for the first day of the rodeo to begin. She’d survived the opening ceremonies by making sure she stayed in the middle of the barrel racers where, hopefully, reporters and photographers wouldn’t spot her. Cantering into the arena dressed in her show-only deep red shirt and hat had damn near been her undoing, for one simple reason. The bulls, although not yet loaded into the bucking chutes, were so close she’d smelled and heard them. The usually laid-back, eight-year-old Trixie had bugled and tried to buck. Jordan had had her hands full and might not have been able to keep her mare under control if a couple of men on horseback hadn’t ridden up on either side, effectively squeezing Trixie between them. Their presence must have calmed Trixie because she’d stopped prancing and whistling. The men’s black shirts had identified them as stock handlers, Cougar’s employees.

“Cougar said you might have a bit of trouble with her.” The man on her right had indicated about Trixie. “Asked us to keep an eye on things.”

“I appreciate it. She has more of a memory than I hoped she would.”

“Cougar told us what happened.”

But had he told his men everything? she pondered as she waited for her turn to compete. It didn’t matter—at least, not now, because she was about to do her damnedest to put her own demons behind her. After a year devoted to almost nothing beyond getting to the point where she could compete again, the time had come. That’s what was important, not asking herself for the umpteenth time why she hadn’t seen Cougar so far today. Of course, she’d gone out of her way not to be where she thought he would be, but a considerate man did something to acknowledge the woman he recently bonked, right? Of course that worked both ways, or it would if she had a better handle on her emotions.

Let it go! You’re here to ride.

From where she and the other barrel racers waited just outside the arena, she could barely glimpse the woman currently guiding her galloping horse around the barrels, but yells and clapping left no doubt that the woman was doing well against the clock. A little more than a year ago she had been one of the top competitors and had her share of awards to prove it. But thanks to the damage to her leg, she’d missed the rest of last season and the start of this one. Making up for lost time wasn’t going to be easy—nearly as hard as getting the Brahma-sized monkey off her back.

“Damn that Crystal!” the racer next to her exclaimed. “Thanks to a daddy willing to fork over for the best horses, she’s always going to be a pisser to beat.”

“It’s not just her horses,” another competitor observed. “Crystal goes all out. The damn broad is fearless.”

Fearless? What did that feel like?

When Crystal came cantering back, her face flushed and her smile showing a mouthful of perfect teeth, Jordan applauded. Inside, however, she warred with equal compulsions to rip out Crystal’s hair and beg her to give her some of her fearlessness. Here. Now. Finally. Goal number one met. Number two coming up.

“You’ll do fine. All you have to do is believe in yourself.”

Cougar’s voice rolled over her. For a moment the earth-sized knot in the pit of her stomach eased. Turning toward him, she took in his black outfit, especially the form-fitting shirt with its silver snaps that played up the silver band on his cowboy hat. Even his boots carried out the same theme. Of course his horse was black and a stallion. Not many rodeo participants risked having a tetesterone-charged mount under them, but Cougar easily controlled the wide-eyed, prancing beast.

“I didn’t expect to see you,” she said when, finally, she remembered how to make her voice work. “I thought you had enough to do behind the fences.”

He guided his horse a little closer, and then reined up, keeping the stallion a safe distance from Trixie, who obviously wasn’t in the mood for a suitor. “How are you feeling?”

Pretty much like I’m going to fly off in a million pieces. “Rusty. Practicing at home’s hardly the same as the real thing.”

“At least you’re doing it.” He dropped his gaze to her leg.

“Cougar!” Crystal exclaimed, urging her gelding between Cougar and Jordan. “Fancy seeing you. Are you going to ride? No matter what bull you draw, my money’s on you.”

That’s right, Jordan reminded herself. Cougar had started out in the rodeo business as a bull rider and twice had qualified for the finals. He’d finished high both times, and Harney County residents had boasted of the local boy who’d made good. He hadn’t competed in a while, and she’d assumed it was because the contracting business took too much time.

“Put your money away.” Cougar had been looking at Crystal. Now he returned his attention to Jordan. “Riding’s behind me.”

“You sure you won’t reconsider? There’s nothing like a stud riding a bull to the bell to ring my chimes, if you know what I’m saying.”

Just then the announcer called out the name of the next rider, Kari. Knowing she was set to go after Kari, Jordan shut everything else out of her mind. She’d practiced endlessly on the ranch and had been relieved to learn that she hadn’t lost her skill or timing. Actually competing wasn’t that different from circling the barrels she’d set up herself.

Liar. Cougar wasn’t watching you then. And Rampage wasn’t a short distance away.

 

Because she rode two-handed when she competed, Jordan had kept only one hand on the reins as she’d walked Trixie in circles prior to entering the arena. The switch had prevented Trixie from anticipating what was coming up. Now, however, the sturdy mare shivered under her, prompting Jordan to sit back, which shifted Trixie’s weight onto her hindquarters. At the same time, Jordan pressed her calf against Trixie’s right side, indicating she wanted Trixie to continue circling. Then a nod from the timer prompted her to stop. Heart hammering, she waited.

The flag dropped. Leaning low, she urged Trixie into a full-out gallop. The first barrel. Close in on it, slow, lean as much as you can without losing your balance, circle, straighten, aim for barrel number two.

Even as the wind created by Trixie’s hard gallop grabbed her hat, something snagged Jordan’s attention. She couldn’t say what it was, couldn’t make sense of the blur. Bull! her insane instinct insisted. Horse and cowboy, her rational side countered.

Rampage hadn’t gotten loose again. He hadn’t charged into the arena, wasn’t pounding toward her and Trixie. There would be no collision, no terrified and squealing horse being knocked to the ground, no sound of snapping bone.

Ride, damn you! Ride. Barrel number two coming up fast. Slow. Slow. Lean and turn. Straighten. Find number three and head for it.

Once again a blur of movement slammed at her nerves. Once more time buckled back on her. Although it couldn’t be, she heard Rampage bellow, felt herself flying, hitting the ground, Trixie’s weight crushing her. And then, worst of all, staring up at the great Brahma’s churning hooves, thick curving horns, and impossibly powerful chest, knowing she couldn’t move, knowing she was going to be killed.

“Give our young lady a round of applause, ladies and gentlemen!” the announcer yelled. “This is her first time to compete since a serious accident last year, and I know she would appreciate your encouragement.”

Fighting tears and self-disgust, Jordan glanced up at the illuminated time clock. She’d never ridden that slow. Surely there’d been a malfunction. The hell there had!

Her fellow racers applauded when she returned to them, and she forced a rueful smile. Dismounting, she loosened the cinch around Trixie’s belly and rubbed the heavily breathing mare’s forehead. “You done good, old girl. A hell of a lot better than I did. And tomorrow can only be better, right?”

Trixie turned her head to the side and gave Jordan a look she interpreted as It’s up to you. I did my part.

“I know you did. Just be patient with me. There’s something about a head trip that—”

Trixie suddenly back-stepped, compelling Jordan to grip the reins. When the mare stopped tugging, she turned to see what had startled her. She supposed she shouldn’t have been surprised to see Cougar and his black stallion, but tell that to her heart. The way it pounded could only be attributed to shock, right?

“I’m going to be tied up until late tonight.” His too-dark eyes bore down on her, powering through the protective layers she tried to throw up. “You know which is my rig, right? I’ll leave it unlocked. Wait for me.”

Wait in that too-small space smelling of you? Feel your presence on my skin and think about what you’re going to say—and do?

“What for?”

“We need to talk.”

She swallowed. “Just talk?”

“It’s your call.”

 

Cougar’s personal area had to be twice the side of hers, which helped defuse her claustrophobia. Only, if she was being honest, fear of enclosed spaces had nothing to do with the state of her nerves.

After putting Trixie in her stall and mounting her other mare, she’d returned to the action. Her reason had been twofold; she wanted to get three-year-old Misty used to the sights, sounds, and smells of a rodeo, and watching the other events made it possible for her to take at least part of her mind off her poor performance and what Cougar thought they needed to discuss.

All right. There’d been a third reason. She’d watched Cougar. He’d been in constant action, one moment behind the chutes so he could supervise those people handling the bulls during their event; the next riding pickup in the arena. Like his stallion, he’d seemed tireless. In an environment filled with the most masculine of men, he stood out.

And no matter how hard she’d tried, thoughts of the body beneath the clothes stalked her.

Is that why you’re here? she asked herself. At the moment she was looking through a folder filled with newspaper clippings about the various rodeos for which Cougar supplied bulls. He appeared in only a handful of the photos, too often at a distance. But there was one close-up of him being interviewed, with a pen full of milling Brahmas behind him. His hat was pulled low on his forehead, so she could barely make out his features, but his sweaty shirt clung to every muscle and rib. Damn, she could feel his heat just looking at him.

A sound outside spun her around. Heart hammering, she peered out. Cougar and a short, slim man were standing a short distance away. Cougar glanced at her, and then he turned his attention back to his companion.

“If you can find better hay, see if you can get it delivered tomorrow,” he said. “But I’m guessing this is the best we can do.”

“I’ll get on it at first light.” The sparse and weathered man was looking at her, but she couldn’t guess if he was surprised to see a woman waiting for Cougar. Probably not. “Anything else, chief?”

“Get some sleep.”

“More than you will, that’s for sure,” the man said as he walked away.

“Who was that?” she asked when the silence threatened to drive her crazy.

“Todd Little Deer, but we call him Slim. Not too original. He’s been with me since shortly after I got into the business. He knows what I’m thinking before I do.”

“That’s good, I guess.”

“Sometimes. Let’s go for a walk.”

Although he’d presented it as a simple statement, she recognized the undertone of an order. Instead of refusing, she closed the door behind her. As before, the moment the distance between them disappeared, she felt his power and strength, the testosterone rolling off him. If she’d been a mare in heat, she would have turned her back to him and lifted her tail, signaling her readiness to be bred.

Bred. Carrying Cougar Lighthorse’s child?

“Where—where are we going?”

“To where we both belong.”

W hen he first stepped into the large barn with its multitude of stalls, she nearly told him that although he might belong in the space smelling of hay, horses, wood, and leather, there was more to her than a cowgirl. Then the atmosphere closed in around her, and she knew he was right because barns had always been part of her existence. She’d cleaned out countless stalls, repaired or replaced countless boards, hauled in tons upon tons of hay. She felt comfortable here, at home.

“Have you ever wanted anything else?” he asked. The double doors hung open. Faint light slid in through the opening to touch the stalls on either side of the center space. Every stall was occupied, but only two of the horses acknowledged their presence. The rest, worn down from their long day, couldn’t care less.

“Other than being involved with the ranching life? When I went to college I thought a lot about my options, but too many entailed spending my days in an office, living in a city.”

“And you need space.”

“Yeah.” And the chance to prove I haven’t lost my nerve. “What about you?”

He hadn’t touched her tonight. Instead of feeling safer and more self-contained, she ached for the brush of skin against skin. Every molecule of her being was tuned in to him, so much so that she half believed he could see beyond her clothing to breasts, belly, hips, and, mostly, what waited between her legs. Even after her eyes adjusted to the muted light, she still felt isolated from the outside world. There was just them and the unconcerned, warm-bodied horses.

A horse stomped his hoof, shaking her mind loose of whatever spiderweb it had sunk into and reminding her that she’d asked a question that hadn’t been answered. “I’m sure it goes without saying that you need to be where you can see the horizon.” Her voice seemed to echo off the weathered wood.

“Because I’m Indian?”

“Because you grew up surrounded by nature.” Because she had no choice in the matter, she touched his forearm. Just like that, her flames were fed. “I think it gets in our blood. No matter what people like us do with our lives, we’re not satisfied unless we are surrounded by what was embedded in us as children.”

“You’re philosophical tonight.”

Either that, or something was driving her to lay more of herself before him. Someone might be in the barn, maybe bedded down in a stall with his or her horse, but she didn’t sense the presence of another human. Just him. “It hasn’t been an easy day for me,” she admitted.

“No, it hasn’t.”

She forced her hand back to her side, but it was an uneasy separation. Maybe she wouldn’t have been this aware of him if they hadn’t fucked, but she wouldn’t take bets. Very possibly, he’d touched her hormones in ways they’d never been touched.

“Is—is that what you wanted to talk about?” she asked. “Why the hell my time was so bad?”

“I don’t need to ask. I know why.”

His words were still echoing around her when he took her hand and lifted it to his mouth and touched his lips to her knuckles. A rolling shiver ran from her fingers up her arm and from there down, down until it settled between her legs. Her knees nearly buckled.

“You—you do?”

“I’ve been there.”

His fingers now laced in hers, he lowered their hands so her knuckles brushed his thighs. His warmth, his pulsing warmth, nipped at her.

“Do you recall what the announcer says when he introduces the riding events?”

Incapable of concentrating on anything beyond pounding need, she shook her head.

“He tells the bronc riders to check their gear—and for the bull riders to go behind the chutes and puke.”

Suddenly restless, she drew him into the dark. Hay and wood chips crunched underfoot as they walked, and the scent of animals and weathered wood grew stronger. The barn closed around them, sheltered them and fed her flames.

“Is that why you no longer compete as a bull rider? Because you’d done enough puking?”

“That’s part of it.”

Of course it was. Even the biggest, strongest cowboy looked like a helpless child next to a ton of Brahmas. The bulls were peaceful enough when they were left alone; some became so docile that they could be led around by a halter. But rodeo Brahmas were bred to buck, to demonstrate in spades that they were more powerful and dangerous than any human being. The moment a cinch tightened around their gonads, fury drove them to twist and turn, pound the ground, and throw back their heads with those awful horns, trying to dislodge the fool clinging to their backs. Only a minority of cowboys remained for the endless eight seconds a ride was supposed to last.

And then the real danger began. Whether they’d been thrown or made it to the bell, they had to get out of the arena alive. She didn’t know a single bull rider who hadn’t had bones broken or muscles torn or flesh bruised—or all three.

“Only part of it?”

“It’s a young man’s sport, Jordan.”

She could point out that some of the best bull riders were in their thirties, but he was right. Age and years of physical punishment caught up with all of them. So instead of playing the odds, with his health and life as the ultimate stake, he’d become a stock contractor. Fortunately the physical demands were less on barrel racers.

“Do you regret your decision?”

He’d been matching her slow walking pace, but now he stopped, bringing her to a halt as well. He spun her toward him as effortlessly as if he held her reins and wordlessly ordered her to look up at him. He drew her so close that her breasts brushed his chest. Instead of keeping what distance she could between them, she leaned forward until she found his cock

Deny this, the bulge seemed to say. Tell me you don’t want it.

I can’t.

“Regret?” he said. “Sometimes, like now, yes.”

“What do you mean?”

“You need to get back on your horse and into the arena tomorrow. And for as many tomorrows as it takes. If you’re going to get your head on straight, you have to face down your demons. But how can I tell you that when I’m not willing to do the same thing?”

“Barrel racing isn’t going to kill me. Bull riding might destroy you.”

“Yeah.” His breath dampened her eyelashes. “The only thing you have to worry about is Rampage getting loose again.”

Damn, but she hated hearing him speak that bull’s name!

“You’re shaking,” he said. “What is it?”

I don’t know! Or, if I do, I’m not willing to admit it. His bulge twitched and began to swell. Panic assaulted her. She’d turned into a wild animal last night, lost all control and rational thought. It wasn’t going to happen again! It wasn’t.

Propelled by fear of what she’d become last night, she jerked free and spun away. She actually made it halfway to the door before she stopped. Because her back was to him, she couldn’t be sure, but she didn’t believe he’d come after her. This was her decision, her choice.

Even more upset than she’d been a moment ago, she turned and faced the human shadow in the shadows. “I’m afraid,” she whispered.

“Of me?”

“And of me. Of what came over me when we…”

“When we fucked?”

Fucked. Had sex. Screwed. “Yes.”

“Do you regret it?”

Damn him and his hard questions! Energy pooled in her thighs and sent her back toward him. Not a molecule of her being didn’t cry out for his touch.

“Do you?” he repeated.

“I don’t know, damnit.” Less than a yard separate them. His body, now magnetized, called to her. But not yet. Not until—“Had you decided to seduce me last night? Is that why you came to see me? Because you knew how horny I was?” And am again.

“The seduction was deliberate, but it had nothing to do with you being horny.”

How dare he speak in riddles! “Then my needing to screw and be screwed was a bonus?”

His hand snaked out, grabbed an elbow, and pulled her close. “Don’t talk like that.”

He was right. In the household she’d been raised in, words like screw and fuck were never spoken. But something had changed her. It had everything to do with the electrical charge coursing through her and the man responsible. “It’s the truth.”

“I know.”

His whisper, his soft, low, magical whisper, ran through her like warm water. She’d known this man most of her life, and yet she didn’t know him at all. She certainly had had no inkling that she’d respond like this or that he’d be able to see beneath her protective layers.

“What do you mean by deliberate?” They were standing so close that his features had blurred.

“The first time I saw you here, I sensed your tension. Because I’ve been there, I knew what you were going through. I wanted to do what I could to take your mind off it.”

“I appreciate you going out of your way to—”

“Stop it!” He shook her. “My bull nearly killed you. That’s what it all boils down to.”

And he’d decided to have sex with her as a way of making up for it? No. That was too bizarre to think about. They stood so close; every time one or the other shifted position, their bodies sparked. Did an electrical current run through him? Whatever it was, she hadn’t had enough of the accompanying heat and energy. Neither did she know how to keep it, or herself, under control.

“We keep going round and round about this, don’t we?” she said. “I didn’t sue you, so you’re off the hook.”

The words were barely out of her mouth when he shoved her back but kept his hands on her. “I don’t want to be off the hook, got it? You’re going down a road I know all too well. I’d like to help you find your way off it so you can give some thought to the rest of your life.”

“How can you know about my road? I seem to be making it up as I go along.” I can’t even think about my future.

His grip relaxed, and he began running his hands up and down her arms. With each stroke, the electricity became more intense. She needed to get away from him, go outside and take a few deep breaths, jump into a cold shower, bury herself in a snowdrift if she could find one.

But even more, she needed to stay and feed off him.

“You didn’t hear about it?” he asked. “No, I don’t suppose you did, because it happened in Texas.”

She closed a hand around her throat. The other rested on his hipbone. “What did?”

“I got thrown. My hand hung up in my rigging, and I couldn’t get loose.”

“Oh, no. The clowns—”

“They did their job. But for too damn long, they couldn’t get close enough to free me.”

The image of Cougar being thrown about helplessly was almost more than she could handle. He was warmth and life, the epitome of the rugged cowboy. But during those terrifying moments when he and a bull had been one, he’d been at the beast’s mercy. “What—what happened?”

“They told me that a rider got close enough to use a knife on the rigging.”

“They told you? Had you been knocked unconscious?”

“Yeah. Probably by his hooves, although they said I hit the ground several times, and once the bull ran me into a fence.”

You could have died! “No! I, ah, I guess it’s a good thing you didn’t remember. Did you have a concussion?”

“Among other things.”

Growing up, her youngest brother had been a tough kid who wouldn’t admit if he was bleeding to death or scared out of his mind. She’d seen a lot of cowboys like that, macho men unwilling or unable to admit to any weakness. Maybe she should respect that in Cougar, but this was about more than one acquaintance telling another about an accident he’d been in.

“Sit down.” She indicated a tarp-covered bale of hay behind him. He shrugged but obeyed. Then, well aware of the risk, she pushed his knees apart and planted herself between them. Hoping she was giving off a no-nonsense air, she placed her hands on his shoulders and forced him to look up at her. “Tell me everything.”

T he “everything” didn’t take long. Not only had he wound up in the hospital with a concussion, he’d cracked a bone at the back of his neck. For two days he hadn’t been able to move. Despite his pounding head, he’d been awake and aware.

“You were paralyzed?” She nearly gagged on the word.

“Obviously not permanently, but long enough to get my attention.”

“Get my attention” had to be the understatement of the year. She couldn’t imagine anything more terrifying than losing control of one’s body. The thought of Cougar confined to a wheelchair for the rest of his life made her blood run cold.

“Thank god you’re not,” she whispered. Her fingers on his collarbone tightened, but she couldn’t relax them because she needed to feel his strength. “Did feeling come back all at once?”

“It took a couple of months because of the bruising to the nerves.”

The nightmare was getting worse. Only knowing how it came out kept her sane. Or was she? Last night he had been the aggressor, the one who’d taken them over the edge. Although she’d been more than ready for sex, she’d happily gone at his pace.

Not tonight. Tonight she needed to say things with her body that she had no words for.

“I’ve always thought of you as, I don’t know, more something than the average man. Physically superior, maybe.”

“I’m not.”

Tell that to my body. Her hands were sweating, and she didn’t trust her legs. Her bra had suddenly become too small for her heavy breasts, and her pussy—a single touch there, and she would probably explode.

The power behind her need to have sex with Cougar frightened her, and yet she was already too far gone to walk away. She would drink from him, and the act would serve as affirmation of how healthy and whole he was.

Thank goodness his shirt came with snaps. Otherwise she would have popped all the buttons, the way she was yanking on the shirt. When she’d exposed his chest, he reached for her, but she pushed, forcing him to balance with his arms behind him on the hay, much as he’d done to her last night. Leaning forward, she ran first her lips and then her tongue over his newly exposed flesh. The salty, masculine taste raced through and became part of her. Fed her need.

Moving to his side, she rested her cheek against his right nub. One hand went to the back of his neck. The other slid toward intimate territory. Damn his jeans!

Men had this thing about being in charge. They were protective of the family jewels and hesitant to give a woman unmonitored access to them. She might not be a well-traveled sex partner, but she knew those elementary things.

And didn’t care.

Contain him somehow. Let him know who’s in charge. Show him how much you want the body he came too close to losing control of.

Most of all, drink from everything he has to give.

Sliding his shirt off his shoulders so it bunched around his wrists like makeshift handcuffs solved the immediate problem of keeping his hands off her. At first his jeans’ snap resisted her efforts, but she kept after it. The zipper put up much less resistance.

“Just like that?” he asked.

“Just like that.”

“What if someone comes in?”

“I’ll tell them the joint’s taken and to mosey on down the road.”

She’d dropped to her knees and tugged off the first boot before what she’d said registered. Any number of people had every right to come in here. What would they think if they ran into a couple fucking?

Let them deal with it. Let them beat a hasty retreat.

Both of his boots now rested near the hay bale. Cougar hadn’t moved.

I’m not going to think. And I hope you don’t either. We need to do this. That’s all that matters: the need.

“Stand up,” she ordered.

He did, shaking off his shirt at the same time. She barely managed to wait until he was done before yanking down on his jeans. Don’t talk, please. Don’t make me explain what I’m doing. Only a long sigh from one of the stalls broke the silence, and no outside sounds reached them. There was just the two of them and insanity.

Crouching, she drew the jeans over first one raised foot and then the other. Eyes closed, she stroked his calves. Relying on her hold on him to keep her from losing her balance, she began working her hands higher. His knees were remarkable, bone and cartilage masterfully created. But much as they fascinated her, she needed to feel his thighs even more, to embrace his cock.

His briefs. Damnit, she hadn’t—

Biting down on her frustration, she willed her fingers to glide to the back of his thighs. He shivered, and she laughed, the sound full of power and animal need. Dizzy, she again lowered herself to her knees. Despite the roaring in her head, it was now easier to continue her upward journey. She needed to embrace his cock, but that could wait, because even the backs of his legs carried the same message of strength under smooth flesh. Downy hairs grew at the juncture of thigh and buttocks, and she gently ran those hairs between her fingers. His hands rested on the top of her head.

She couldn’t keep her hands off his briefs, or, more precisely, out from under them. As she slid past the thin layer, the mark the elastic had left at the base of his buttocks held her interest. She might have spent a long time exploring the thin indentations if he hadn’t twitched. Ah, the man was sensitive there.

And there, too, she discovered as she inched northward. His ass was compact but nicely curved, with layers of skin and muscle and just enough fat between her and bone. Buried in there was the strength that would come into play during the sex act. Strange how modest his muscles felt now, strange how urgent her need to have them work her.

“Damn you, Jordan. You’re driving me crazy!”

“I intend to.”

“Not if I have my way. Someone could come in. If we’re going to—”

“We are. Now.”

“No, not yet. Your clothes.”

Much as she hated ending her exploration of his ass, she leaned against him and pulled off her boots. He reached for her jeans, but she shoved him away.

“No. This time I’m in charge.”

“Are you?”

Hell, no. But until or unless he made a liar out of her, she would strip for him and give herself up as a gift to this man who’d nearly lost his life, or, if not that, his physical freedom. Too excited to attempt a slow seduction, she dispensed with her jeans and panties at the same time. As she did, he shrugged out of his briefs and perched on the edge of the covered bale. His cock waited for her, impatient and strong, barely a shadow.

She managed to unfasten her blouse before need gripped her. Something between a growl and a cry escaped her. Then she was on him, pushing him onto his back. He reached up, his hands gripping the sides of her neck and forcing her forward. Straddling him, she stood on her toes and started to lower herself, seeking the union of cock and cunt.

“Wait. Stop!”

“What?”

“I need a rubber.”

Oh, shit, shit. But even as she gathered her thoughts to tell him she didn’t care, she knew she wouldn’t say the words. Dizzy, she tore his hands off her. “Stay there. I’ll get—”

“In my wallet.”

Fumbling in the near dark for his jeans took an unreal amount of time. She tried to make sense of her naked belly, ass, pussy, and legs as she dug through his wallet, but finding the damn rubber was more important than shedding her blouse, which still hung half off her. When her fingers closed around the small package, she snorted in triumph. Tearing at the wrapping with her teeth, she stumbled back to where she’d left Cougar.

Hard as it had been to locate the necessary protection, closing her hand around his cock felt like a homing pigeon returning to its nest. But the instant her fingertips stroked the soft, potent flesh, what little strength she’d held on to deserted her. She couldn’t stop shaking, couldn’t help but wonder at the near miracles that had brought them to this point.

She was going to have sex with Cougar. Take him into her flesh. Share that deepest of intimacies.

As for why she needed this so much—

“Jordan?”

Jerked out of her knotted thoughts, she forced herself back to reality. She was standing beside this prone Indian cowboy with her hands cupping his penis and the rubber caught between her fore- and middle fingers. If they were going to fuck—which she needed in ways that rocked her to her soul—she had a task to perform. But once she had, she would no longer be able to feel his sensitive and sensual flesh.

If they were married, if they were trying to make a child, nothing man-made would stand between them.

“Yes, yes,” she muttered. But instead of doing what she’d committed herself to doing, she lay the rubber on his belly. Then, more frightened, overwhelmed, and eager than maybe she’d ever been, she cradled his meat between her palms. So big. So strong. And hot, so incredibly hot and alive.

Hers. For this brief time, hers.

“Oh, god,” he hissed. “Damn. Damn.”

Those could be her words as well, would have been if the utter intimacy of what she was doing hadn’t rendered her mute. Much as she loved sex—who didn’t?—she’d always been torn between having a climax rock her and the core, deep vulnerability that went with release. She’d had no longtime lovers, no fiancé, no husband, no one she felt utterly safe with.

And now she was about to close her cunt around this most challenging of men.

So, for moments that had no meaning, she cradled and controlled.

“Jordan? I can’t…”

Of course. She was asking the impossible of him, playing and delaying while expecting him to lie there like some specimen under scrutiny. Besides, as wonderful as his firm and smooth head felt between her fingers, she’d been clenching and releasing her pussy muscles in a pitiful attempt to feed its need.

She’d never put on a rubber. As a result, an act that shouldn’t have been that difficult took forever. Finally, however, she’d sheathed him. Now there was no reason to put off the inevitable, was there?

Placing her legs on either side of his feet, she straddled him. Attention fully on what little she could see of him, she slid closer, calves brushing calves, thighs kissing thighs. Again he settled his hands along the sides of her neck and pulled her toward him. If only she could read what was in his eyes!

No. Not enough.

Overwhelmed by the awesome responsibility she’d given herself, she nevertheless reached between her legs and parted her lips. Then, guided by primitive instinct, she lowered herself over him. His tip kissed her clit, and she sobbed. Down, down she went, knees bent, his hands keeping her close. Despite the burning in her thighs, she remained suspended over him with her hands on his chest for support. Skewered. Gifted.

“Home. You’re home,” she muttered.

She couldn’t quite call his response a chuckle, but even if he was laughing at her, she didn’t mind because he was where he belonged. Where she needed him to be. Instead of beginning the friction she craved, she closed her muscles around him and embraced all of him. Explored his contours. Acknowledged what she’d accomplished.

Using a gliding motion that nearly rattled her teeth, he ran his hands from her neck to her bra, which he yanked up over her globes. For a moment he simply held her newly freed breasts. When he stroked the pebbled area around her nipples, she thought she’d start crying. Desperate not to expose herself that way, she straightened slightly and took him with her. The idea of being about to move with his cock buried in her was nearly more than she could handle. She settled herself against him, gasping as his bulk consumed even more of her. He gripped her nipples and pulled as if trying to hold her in place, but she fought him, fought the demon in her that screamed for her to attack him.

Barely containing her fury, she began a pumping motion that caused her legs to burn and her mouth to open. “Got you. Got you. Won’t let you loose.”

“Who says I want to be free?” Arching off the bale, he powered into her. His hold on her nipples kept her in place.

Up and down. Up and down. Leg muscles on fire, forced to remain hunched over, her fingers digging into his chest, and his features a mix of black and red.

“I can’t!” he gasped. “Jordan, I can’t!”

“What?”

“Move. You’re pressing on…”

How could that be when she felt weightless? But by concentrating, she felt his effort throughout her. His cock slid against her rear wall. Although she loved the sensation, she needed more.

When she tried to stand, he refused to release her nipples, but she continued to pull, oblivious to any discomfort or perhaps driven by it. Finally he let her go, and she straightened a little, fingers still digging into him, his cock deep and true.

Then she locked her knees and stood. The effort allowed his cock to slip out. Empty and hating the sensation, she turned so her back was to him. With a hand around his cock to stabilize it, she easily swallowed him again.

Mine…

He opened his stance and braced his feet under him. Doing so decreased their connection, but she reveled in the feel of his tip just inside her and the danger of losing him. Then he gripped her elbows and pulled her back toward him, held her in place, reclined, as he pounded into her. Her blouse fell back, revealing her breasts with the bra pressing against them. With one hand she feathered his balls. The other claimed her breast.

Unexpected pressure on her back made her wonder if he was trying to push her off him. Then she realized he wanted her to lean forward. She did, swallowing a few more precious inches of him, joining them, feeling his hot bulk. She managed a crude rhythm that brought her down just as he strained upward. Her cheeks burned, heat rolling down her neck to heat her breasts. Hunger gnawed at her, and she ground her knuckles against her breast.

Fuck him, fuck him. Eat him.

“Not—not going to work.”

She tried to look over her shoulder at him.

“I still can’t—move enough.”

She nearly told him that she would happily fuck his brains out, and all he had to do was lie there and enjoy the ride, but just as she couldn’t stay still, obviously neither could he. Besides, she was crushing him under her.

Before she could guess what he had in mind, he pushed with all his strength, forcing her up and off him and leaving her pussy empty. He stood, grabbed her around the waist, and forced her onto the bale, much as he’d just been.

“There. Now we’ll do it my way.”

What did she care? As long as he silenced the terrible ache, he could do anything he wanted. His expression unreadable, he closed his hands around the back of her knees and forced them into the air. Keeping her splayed, he crouched over her, aimed, housed himself. He leaned closer, loomed over her, trapped her under him. She felt small and helpless, desirable, wild.

This wasn’t simply sex. He repeatedly came at her as if determined to pound her into submission, but instead of being frightened, she fed off his strength. Lifting her right leg as high as she could made it possible for him to close in on her even more, to splay a hand over her throat and keep her motionless.

No fear. Nothing except the thundering in her temple, her melting, flowing cunt, crying out as she raked her nails over his arm.

Every thrust threatened to knock her off her perch. As he drew back for yet another attack, she sucked in a frenzied breath and silently pleaded with him to hurry, hurry!

The pace quickened, giving her no time to prepare for the next assault. Movement and hunger flowed together. On fire, she grasped his shoulders. Holding him over her, she strained for his mouth. He answered her plea by crushing his lips against hers, attacking, not kissing. Much as she craved the savage union, her neck couldn’t handle the strain, and she fell back down, whimpering.

A deeper moan rolled out of him. Straightening slightly, he again gripped her legs and held her open and exposed. He rode her like a strong, young cowboy with endless energy. The long, stressful day flowed out of her, and she became an animal, a bronc fighting for freedom.

Only, she didn’t want to be free.

Much as she tried, her fingers only brushed his belly, but she kept after him. Touching and tantalizing him, like spurs rolled over a bronc’s sides, propelled him to another level. He came at her, came over and over again, branding her entire cunt. Flames consumed her, scorched her, shook her as she’d never been shaken.

“Oh, shit. Oh, shit. Oh, shit, shit, shit.”

“Got you. Doing you. Oh, shit!”

A climax rushed over her. Always before, the downhill slide came fast on the heels of the explosion, but this time the fireworks hit over and over until, maybe, she passed out.

Spent. Worthless. Twitching. An accident victim trying to make sense of what had happened.

Cougar’s muscles trembled as he drew her into a sitting position. As long as he kept his knees bent, the union held, but then his cock grew limp. The thought of losing him unnerved her, and she wrapped her arms around him. He started to straighten, prompting her to lock her legs around his hips. Resting her head against his hot and sweating chest, she concentrated on his heartbeat, his breathing, his skin.

I love you, Cougar. I don’t know how long this feeling is going to last, but for this moment, I love you as I never have loved anyone.

S he woke to the sound of Cougar’s faint snoring. Her first thought was that she needed to ask him what she was doing in his bed, but then she remembered.

While still in the barn, they’d thrown on what clothes were absolutely necessary. He’d asked if her rig had a shower, and she’d said it didn’t, and they would have to use the grounds’ facilities, but he’d offered to let her use his. After dropping by her place for a change of clothes, they’d walked barefoot and hand in hand to the huge gas-guzzling truck and sleeper trailer in which he hauled his bulls. A discussion about who merited the first shower had led to him flipping a coin. She’d won, which meant she hadn’t taken time to study his quarters until she was clean. She’d been envious of his larger refrigerator and considerable storage space, and the twin recliners looked comfortable enough to sleep in. But what had held her attention had been the queen-size bed.

That’s where she was. In a bed that smelled of the man next to her.

It was just getting light, but although she tried to bury herself in sleep again, her bladder wouldn’t allow her to. By the time she’d finished in the bathroom, he was awake, propped up on his elbow, naked chest slowly rising and falling. She hadn’t bothered with a nightgown.

“What are your plans until the rodeo gets going tonight?” he asked.

To have sex with you over and over again until we can’t move. “I’m not sure. What about you?”

“Unfortunately my day’s full.”

“Of course.” She sat on the edge of the bed and turned so she could look into his eyes. With every passing second, more daylight was slipping in. Knowing Cougar most of her life had conditioned her to accept his toasted complexion, but he seemed even darker than before. At least being Indian kept him from having a farmer’s tan.

“You’re smiling. What are you thinking about?”

“Never mind.” She covered her hand with her mouth. “Believe me, it isn’t worth sharing.”

He grunted and slid off the bed. Not looking back at her, he trudged naked into the bathroom, which gave her ample opportunity to study the smooth roll of leg and ass muscles. She’d long admired a strong young horse’s taut flanks, but her admiration centered around appreciation of how fast and long the animal could run. Cougar’s flanks spoke of another kind of staying power.

“I’d like you to trail along with me today,” he said when he returned. His cock was morning hard, although she chose to believe her presence had everything to do with its condition. “Watching the bulls sling snot and poop should go a long way toward dispensing any mystique they have for you.”

“You aren’t responsible for the head trip I’ve done on myself—if I have.” It felt unreal and wonderful to be sitting buck naked on a man’s bed while he, equally naked, leaned against a wall. “I don’t need a shrink.” Just a hard kick in the butt every time a particular nightmare tries to latch on to me. “And I don’t need you worrying about me, if that’s what you’re doing.”

“Worry? It’s not that.”

“Then what is it?”

When he held out his hands, she placed hers in them and let him pull her to her feet. There was a pillow crease on his cheek, and his hair needed to be combed and contained—something she would love to do.

“I need to ask you something.”

She looked up at him.

“Do you think I’m a coward?” he asked.

A chill ran through her. “What?”

“For not getting back on a bull.”

“You—you were in the hospital. How could you?”

“I’m talking about later, after I’d recovered.”

Much as she wanted to shrug off the question, she couldn’t, because it was too important. “Cougar, only a few men out of millions have ever ridden a bull—or tried to. That’s a hell of an accomplishment.”

“A lot of people would call me crazy.”

Was he aware that he was rubbing her arms? Although she wasn’t cold, a shiver shook her. If he kept up what he was doing, she’d be hard-pressed to carry on any conversation, let alone this vital one. “Of course bull riding is crazy, but it was something you wanted, or needed, to do. Has that changed? You no longer feel you have anything to prove?”

His hands stilled. A moment later he pushed her away but continued to hold her. Although his gaze ran down her, she wasn’t convinced he was looking at her body. How strange. All those years of being ships passing through each other’s lives, and they’d never had a serious talk. Now it was all coming at once—along with a physical attraction more powerful than anything she’d experienced.

“No.” He sighed the word. “I don’t feel I have something to prove.”

Although she was glad he’d found his peace, a part of her wanted to remind him that, damnit, she had gotten back in the saddle after her accident and made coming to grips with her head trip her priority, her only priority. Her life’s goal, even. If she was that committed, that insane, he should be, too. Shouldn’t he?

“You have problems with that, don’t you?” he asked.

“Damnit, Cougar! I’m not going to tell you how to live your life.”

“I didn’t ask you to.”

Were they fighting? And if so, why? “Fine. Fine.” Pulling free, she looked around for her clothes. “It’s a hell of a lot better if people don’t dictate to each other.” Spotting her jeans, she sat back down and started pulling them on. Too late she realized she’d forgotten about her underpants. “I, for one, have enough to do running my own life.”

“What are you going to do?”

Damn him for asking such a complex question! And damn him to hell for standing there without a stitch on and his cock long and dark and jutting. Reminding her of how it felt inside her.

“Today I’m going to catch up with some of my fellow competitors, compare horses, and tell tall tales, that kind of thing.”

“Have you talked to any of them about what’s going on inside you?”

“What do you care?”

“Don’t.”

She’d stood up so she could attend to the zipper. Unfortunately that brought her breasts—and the rest of her—too close to him. “Don’t what?” The moment she’d said the words, she wished she could take them back.

“Push me away. Jordan, I didn’t have anyone to talk to when I didn’t know whether I was ever going to walk again. I’m offering you that.”

His gift included much more than his muscles, his cock, his cum. When all the layers had been knocked aside, that’s what it came down to, didn’t it? He’d more than walked in her shoes. He’d taken the journey before she had, only his had been more dangerous, the outcome drawn out, his nightmares—he had to have had nightmares—surely more vivid.

“I don’t know what to say.” Leaning forward, she ran her lips over his chest, in part to give herself time to blink back her tears. “I downplayed what I was going through with my family, and although my older brother kept studying me, he didn’t ask. In other words, you aren’t the only one who kept things locked inside.”

He was stroking her hair, soothing her, presenting her with his warmth, his life. Tears again burned her. “I—I don’t want you feeling sorry for me. I don’t.”

“I didn’t either when it was me on the receiving end.”

Fine, she nearly said. That’s noble of you. But before she could make that mistake, reality rolled over her. Although she wouldn’t call him the silent and stoic Indian, he was a macho man in a macho world. Hadn’t she seen countless riders puke before getting on the bull or bronc they’d drawn? None of them ever talked about the fear clamped around their bellies—just as Cougar hadn’t told anyone he was afraid he would spend the rest of his life in a wheelchair.

“It’s so complicated, isn’t it?” she said and straightened. Let him see her tears after all. “That’s why I’m going to compete tonight, so, hopefully, I can make things less complicated.”

Instead of pointing out that she hadn’t made any sense—which he had every right to do—he pushed the hair back from her cheek and planted a kiss on her forehead. “It’s all right if you don’t get out there again. That’s what I want you to hear. I won’t think any the less of you.”

Instead of feeling strengthened by his words, he’d, maybe unwittingly, lain the most important thing on the table. He might not think less of her if she hung up her barrel-racing saddle and put her horses out to pasture, but she would.

And she wouldn’t be able to hold up her head around him.

“What is it?” he prompted. “Are we back to where we started? You’re comparing the way each of us faced our injuries?”

“I don’t know where we are!” Much as she wanted to be in a different hemisphere from the one he was in, even more she wanted to give his cock a home. Her home. “Damnit, it doesn’t have to be this complicated.”

“No. It doesn’t.”

He was bringing her closer, pressing her against his body and making her terribly aware of the fabric she’d placed between her sex and his. Maybe he knew what she was thinking— and regretting—because he ground himself against her, forced her to back up, forced her to deal with frustration.

“I—I thought you had a lot to do.”

“I do, starting with you.”

“Just like that?” Torn between trying to shove him off her and leaving no doubt of her sudden and powerful need, she clung to him.

“Yeah, Jordan, just like that. You came on strong last night. It’s my turn again.”

She? Strong? On the brink of calling him a liar, images from the barn pushed past her barriers. He was right. She’d been the aggressor, right up until the time he threw her on the hay and took her missionary style. “What do you want?”

“You. Goddamnit, you.”

Like him, she, too, was torn between the need that was taking huge chunks out of her sanity and the undeniable fact that they were taking things too fast. But when he lifted her and laid her out on his bed, nothing else mattered.

She reached for her jeans, but he grabbed her wrists and placed her hands over her head. He stretched out beside her, the pressure on her wrists making her feel small and helpless and desirable.

“You’re an incredible woman with an incredible body.”

“It’s—it’s standard issue.”

“The hell it is. The way you turn me on—” Rolling toward her, he closed his mouth around a breast.

He nipped, nibbled, licked, and sucked. Within seconds she was writhing on the tangled sheets. He took her breast into his wet, warm cave. Lightning tiptoed from her mound to her pelvis. Then the sensation spread out, closing around her pussy and making her think of a wilderness storm with thunder booming, rain pounding down, lightning shattering the night.

What was it she’d always believed about needing lengthy foreplay? What was it she’d maintained about not being a cheap lay?

What the hell did either of those things matter?

“Cougar, Cougar, Cougar.” The chant echoed off the metal walls.

He released her wrists, but she remained the way he’d positioned her, lost in the fantasy of being at his disposal. Pain in her captured nipple lifted her pelvis off the bed. But instead of trying to free herself from the sharp nip, she arched toward him and offered him everything. He closed his lip-covered teeth around her nipple and drew on it. Looking down at herself, she regarded the pale and stretched breast tissue. There was a grinding sensation in her pelvis, and her fingers kept reaching for something, anything. Her head rocked from side to side, and she sounded as if she were strangling.

When he released her breast, she cried out. He quieted her by pressing his palm over her wet flesh. Then he turned his attention to her other breast. His weight held her down, kept her where and how he needed her to be.

“Yes, yes, yes,” she chanted. “Oh, yes.”

Her other breast was subjected to the same mix of pleasure and pain as the first. He bathed her, chewed lightly, suckled, drew her so deep inside him that she half believed he was fucking her there.

“Yes, yes, yes.”

This time when he backed away, she found the courage and promise to wait with her body turned toward his and her vision rose-tinted.

Finally—yes, damnit, finally—he removed the garment she’d foolishly put on. The disrobing seemed to take forever, slow inch by slow inch being revealed. He was a powerful man, strong in ways that went far beyond muscle and bone. Next to him she felt like a feather, when she’d always believed herself equal to any man. She didn’t want that anymore. She wanted to be imprinted with his masculinity, to be allowed to house him and maybe, please, to hear his secrets.

To trust him with hers.

When he dropped her jeans to the floor, she thought he would climb on top of her. Instead he ordered her to sit up. Obeying, she knelt on the bed and hugged herself. He stretched out a few inches away, his cock rising above his body.

“I have a rubber in the night stand.”

I don’t want to put it on. I need to feel you, to take your cum into me. But she did as he ordered. Once he had come, she would lick his cock and taste his offering.

Wondering at the wanton turn her mind had taken, she sat back on her haunches and waited for her next order.

“Get on top of me.”

That she could do. Slowly—as slowly as she could, anyway—she straddled him, with his cock resting against her belly and her ass kissing his thighs. She clenched her fists to keep from touching him.

“Put my cock in you.”

Just like that? Yes, she answered her own question, just like that. Made uncomfortable by his scrutiny, she nevertheless sheathed his cock with her hand while she inched forward and up. Running his tip over her labia nearly drove her crazy, but she did it again—and then once more. He was giving himself to her. She was presenting herself to him.

And nothing else mattered.

In the distance a diesel truck started up. She heard the faint murmur of male voices so deep that the tones became part of what she and Cougar were doing.

“Now. Do it.”

Yes. Yes. Her fingers strong around his base held him in place as she skewered herself on his cock. Despite the pounding need to rush the union, she took him slow and smooth, all the way. When she couldn’t absorb any more of him, she cautiously lowered herself until her buttocks closed around his crotch.

He grabbed her shoulders and pulled her forward. His cock shifted inside her, pressing where it had only touched before, demanding she concentrate on the change.

Down, down, down he guided her until she was afraid she would hurt him, but his relentless hold brought her even closer. Her hanging breasts brushed his chest. Then they were flat against him, and his hands were around her neck, and she was reaching behind her ass, and they were kissing—for the first time truly kissing.

Nothing mattered except the tender and intimate gesture. These were her lover’s lips, the breath of a man unlike any she’d ever known, barriers knocked away, honest and vulnerable.

Then animal need slammed into her.

Growling, she sat up. He slapped her breasts with a stinging blow that fed the animal. Teeth clenched, she pressed her pelvis against him as though she could power through him to the bed. With his own teeth bared, he grabbed her nipples. Fighting and yet not fighting his control, she growled again. He started pumping into her, but it wasn’t enough! More times than she could count, she pistoned herself. His relentless hold on her nipples added to the volcano boiling out of her.

Twice more he pulled her down so their bodies fused. By turn she struggled for freedom and wrapped herself tight around him. She sobbed and gasped, sounds she’d never before made exploding from her. Twice more his grip slackened enough to allow her to straighten. When she did, she pressed her palms against his chest while he did the same to her thighs.

And they fucked. Fucked until her every muscle screamed and darkness invaded.

She came, yelling out her joy. Instead of letting her rest, he thrust and pressed and pressured until, shuddering and sobbing, she came again.

The lights went back on. She’d started to be aware of more than her cunt when he rolled her over onto her side and then onto her back. Straddling her with his hands fisted in her hair, he relentlessly slammed her. His face turned red. He shoved, held the position, exploded.

So did she.

 

“I’m not going to be worth shit today,” Cougar said. At the moment he was standing in the doorway between bath and bedroom, hair dripping, a towel dangling from his fingers as if modesty was the last thing on his mind.

Still in bed where her beaten and rewarded body insisted on staying, she stared at him. For the first time she took note of his scars. A small round one on his right knee spoke of arthroscopic surgery. A long, thin streak of white on his left forearm looked like something left over from a battle with a barbed-wire fence. He’d had stitches taken just below his collarbone. She debated asking him to turn around so she could take a complete inventory but wasn’t sure she could count beyond five.

“I can’t move,” she admitted.

Lifting his muscular arms, he toweled his hair and dried his face. Hot damn, but he was put together like every woman’s fantasy of a stud. “Seriously?” He threw the towel at her.

“Seriously.”

“Then get some sleep. I’ll check on you later and make sure you get ready in time—if you’re going to compete.”

Compete. Close the door on the fantasy I’ve been in since last night since the first time we’d touched. Face the Brahma that has taken up what might be permanent residence in my mind.

She could tell Cougar she’d changed her mind and know he would support her decision. In fact, he would probably applaud it.

But he hadn’t run away from what surely had given him nightmares. True, he no longer risked getting killed by bull riding, but his life still revolved around the beasts. A careless move could place him too close to those deadly horns and hooves. No matter how careful he was, there was no way he could anticipate every danger.

“Think about it,” he said. Walking proud and naked over to her, he leaned down and kissed her. Just kissed.

“Go,” she finally managed. “You have to get to work.”

“What you have to do is more important.”

“Sleep? That’s hardly—”

“No.” He placed a finger over her mouth. “I don’t think you’re going to do much of that. Whatever you decide, I’ll support it.”

Will you? Can you really? If I can’t face my demons, will that destroy what we’ve started?

R ampage and the other bulls were in the same corral Cougar and his men had unloaded them into the other night. Fortunately she’d overheard a couple of the hands talking about the tight time frame to get the stock to the next rodeo, and how their boss had decided to go to town for supplies now so they would be ready to roll. Right now she needed to be alone with the damn Brahma.

“How do you like living on the road?” she asked Rampage as she peered through the fence at the dozing bull. “Do you ever wish you were doing something else? Of course, maybe looking forward to grinding cowboys into the dirt makes up for everything.”

If Rampage heard, he gave no indication. The longer she studied the massive but unmoving body, the harder it was to remember that this hay-burner was hardwired to attack—and, if possible, kill. Pushing her hair off her neck, she ambled around to the far side of the corral to get closer to her nemesis. When she was as close as she could get without wriggling under the fence, she placed her arms on the railing and rested her chin on the back of her hand.

“You look bigger than you did a minute ago,” she informed Rampage. “Pretty much the damn biggest creature I’ve ever seen. Do you remember me?”

Another Brahma headed her way. If it came much closer, she would back away. Instead, after snorting at her, it turned toward Rampage. When maybe ten feet separated the two, Rampage’s heavy head swung up. The two regarded each other, making her wonder about their brain capacities. These two lived together. Surely they were familiar with each other.

Familiar but not friendly, as witnessed by the mutual ground-pawing and bellowing. Cougar wouldn’t keep them together if there was real danger of their attacking each other, but watching the bulls circle each other like playground bullies brought home the reality of their capacity for destruction.

“They’re something else, aren’t they?”

Startled by the woman’s voice, she turned. Her fellow barrel racer Crystal was standing behind her.

“I do a little calf roping,” Crystal said. “Throwing a calf to the ground and tying it is as close as I want to get to the big boys. I don’t care how many times I see them”—she indicated the Brahmas—“they scare the hell out of me. What are you doing?”

“Watching.” Deciding to get it all out in the open, she pointed at Rampage. “He’s the one who got to me.”

“No shit.” Crystal joined her at the fence. “Look at that monster. He could have killed you.”

“I know.”

“Will you tell me why those damn macho bull riders do what they do? We women, we’re smart enough not to jump in front of a charging locomotive. But not a man. Give them a challenge to their manhood, and they lose what brains they have.”

“You really think so?”

“Not all men, but what other explanation is there?” Lips pressed together, Crystal shook her head. “Do you see women standing in line to climb on the back of these dung-caked beasts? Hell, no. We’ve got more sense.”

Rampage and the other bull butted heads, backed off, and glared at each other.

Crystal gave her a rueful glance. “Basically we know enough to be scared shitless.”

 

She hated spying on Cougar, but what Crystal had said compelled Jordan to study him as he and several other men moved the bulls to the rear of the bucking stalls in preparation for the evening’s event. Although she’d seen this done before, the potential for danger still tightened her chest. True, the bulls had spent the day doing next to nothing instead of hell-bent determined to dislodge the idiot trying to ride them, but how could the handlers be sure something wouldn’t set them off?

Cougar, astride his stallion, watched his bulls, his expression alert but calm. Even when someone spoke to him, he didn’t turn his attention from the beasts. His quiet strength seeped into her.

This was a man who knew what he wanted to do with his life and had found a way to do it. In the wake of his own accident, he’d gone through a vital decision-making process. Instead of lamenting his reckless youth, he’d acknowledged that the life of a bull rider was no longer for him and had embraced the future.

And he deserved a woman who had also gotten her act together, instead of one incapable of seeing past finding a way to get her damn monkey off her back.

Shaking her head, she tried to convince herself that their relationship was too new for her to be thinking about spending the rest of her life with him, but she would be an idiot not to want to be bedded by—and bed—him. But that wasn’t enough. There was a little thing called the future. Her plans and goals, whatever they were.

 

Her boots thudded on the packed dirt behind the arena, the sound seeming to echo what her heart was doing. But although she might be giving herself a heart attack, she kept going. She knew this world of strong men and leather, of horses and ten-gallon hats, and right now she couldn’t imagine any other existence.

Was this why she’d decided to do this insane thing, because she didn’t know how to be anything else?

No, damnit! She had to adjust and adapt just as Cougar had. She just wanted it to be her decision, and not something fear had forced her into.

Secure in the knowledge that no one would think twice if she climbed the wooden fencing and looked down at the bulls, she did so. Unlike the spacious corral they’d been in earlier, this enclosure kept the Brahmas closely bunched. They were restless and short-tempered, undoubtedly because they knew what was coming up. She became part of them, a small life-form caught in their current.

“You think you’re pretty damn tough, don’t you?” she asked Rampage. His heavy head swung up, and he stared at her. His small eyes were wet and reddened, his horns impossibly large. “You would love nothing more than kicking this cowgirl’s butt again, wouldn’t you? You’ve got her shaking in her boots and messing with her mind when she should be thinking about—about her future and a certain cowboy.”

Feeling a tug on her ankle, she looked down to see Cougar staring up at her. The sounds, sights, and smells of the rodeo faded away. Even Rampage no longer mattered.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Ah, talking to an old friend.”

Climbing effortlessly, he joined her. The time might come when her skin didn’t heat when he came close, but that was far from the case now. She needed to feel his fingers on her, his damp breath between her breasts. He’d changed into his show outfit, which only added to the impact.

He indicated her own outfit, consisting of bright blue jeans and shirt, accented with a silver belt and buckle and a silver band in her blue hat. “You’re going to compete tonight, aren’t you?”

“Old habits die—” she started, and then she stopped herself. “Yeah, I am.”

“Will you be able to go full out? Or will memories get the better of you?”

A loud snort spun her head back toward the bulls. Rampage was closer than he’d been before, head high and horns pointed at her. “I hope not. I need to replace them with something new. Something better.”

He blanketed her hand with his, the gesture telling her he understood what she was going through. “Like what? Your fastest time ever?”

“No. I want to ride Rampage.”

Nine hundred and ninety-nine people out of a thousand would call her a fool and refuse to let her—flat out, no argument. Instead, Cougar studied her with his midnight eyes. “A lot of cowboys have tried. Most have failed.”

“I know. Believe me, I know. Cougar, I don’t mean I want to try to ride to the bell. I don’t have a death wish. But if I could sit on him while he’s squeezed into a chute, if I could accomplish that simple thing…”

He lightly kissed her fingertips. “I understand.”

Of course he did. He’d been down the same road. “You’d—you’ll help me?”

“I’ll make it happen. As for whether it’ll help, only you can determine that.”

 

A few minutes later Rampage had been loaded into one of the bucking chutes. Although several cowboys had shaken their heads, they hadn’t said anything. If they’d asked her why she was doing this right before the night’s events began, she would have explained that what she had in mind wasn’t going to take long—but the ramifications would last the rest of her life.

“There’s no cinch on him,” Cougar explained. “He’ll be less agitated without that pressing against his gonads.”

“I know. I just want—hell, I don’t know how to explain it.”

“I’m not asking you to.”

From her perch right above Rampage’s back, she struggled to remind herself that she wasn’t looking at some supernatural beast, but she’d never been this close to her nemesis before. She knew what the Brahma was capable of, damnit. Knew that no one, least of all his owner, trusted him.

“Whenever you’re ready. He’s not going to be able to move around much, but that won’t stop him from trying to climb out of here. It’s one of his favorite tricks.”

If you knew this, why didn’t you warn me?

Because you believe I need this.

She’d seen enough bulls leap, actually leap straight up, in the small enclosures. If a cowboy was on its back when that happened, the cowboy either rode out the explosion or bailed off by diving for the fence. She didn’t want to do that.

“Jordan?”

“What?” With an effort, she took her attention off the bull. Cougar’s gaze left no doubt that he was looking beneath her surface. Perhaps he could see all the way to her heart and nerves. She loved him. Just like that, she understood the meaning of the word in ways she never before had understood.

“Something is happening between us.” He caressed the side of her neck, leaving electrical sparks in his wake. “Something that goes beyond some incredible sex.”

“Yes.”

“I want to explore the possibilities, and I believe you do, too.”

“Yes, I do.” If I can deal with this head trip of mine.

“Take all the time you need.” Leaning over the highest railing, he grabbed Rampage’s horn and shook it—at least, he tried to. When Rampage didn’t so much as twitch, he gave her a rueful smile and then winked.

The wink helped. A lot.

Knowing he would understand if she blocked him out of her mind, she swung a leg over the top of the corral. No matter how far she stretched, she couldn’t get it over Rampage’s back, so she kicked off and let go of the railing at the same time. Her butt landed on a hard spine, and her inner thighs made contact with what felt like pure muscle. She had nothing to hold on to. Nothing to do except think about the incredible thing she’d just done.

Rampage, under her. Rampage, squeezed into an enclosure designed to immobilize him, but still deadly.

She, her heart pounding like a jackhammer. She, scared and excited and in awe of the monster.

The bull’s thick skin shuddered, putting her in mind of a horse trying to dislodge a fly. Rampage pawed the ground.

“Do you know who I am?” She tapped Rampage’s shoulder to make sure she had his attention. “Maybe not. You have so many grudges against so many humans.”

Rampage snorted, the sound rumbling up from deep inside his great chest. She thought of thunder rolling through the night.

“I’m impressed. Got it? I’m impressed. You’re an amazing creature.”

On the tail of his second bellow, Rampage flung his head back. Because she’d sensed what he was about to do, she leaned away, evading the horns. Shit! Shit.

“All right,” she whispered, once she’d remembered how to breathe. “Duly noted. I won’t take anything for granted.”

Yet another bellow rolled through him. The sound seemed to press against her buttocks and thighs. She wondered if an avalanche felt and sounded like this. What would it be like to try to outrun tons of deadly free-falling snow?

“Magnificent. Absolutely magnificent, big boy.”

Her thighs were starting to ache from being forced into a near split, but she barely paid attention because Rampage’s heat was soaking through her jeans and imprinting her with the reality of his strong heart.

“Do you know you have a heart? Maybe you’re all instinct. Sleeping, eating, fucking, fighting what you don’t like. Does that sum it up?”

Once again a subtle tightening of his neck muscles alerted her. This time when he flung back his head, his horns came so close she could have grabbed them. Although he was only a few years old, she thought of the centuries his kind had been on the earth. Someday there might not be any more rodeos, but Rampage’s children and grandchildren would still be here—oblivious to man’s self-importance.

“I envy you. I never thought I’d say that, but I do. No one’s ever going to push you around. You are what you are. You exist, simply exist.”

Rampage repeatedly pawed the ground. His muscles rolled under her like some amusement-park ride. The difference was that she had no brakes, and the ride wouldn’t end when the operator decided. This was real life, heart, muscle, bone, a tiny brain that wanted nothing to do with humans who foolishly believed themselves his equal. The moment Rampage and the other bulls were free of this man-made prison, they became the aggressors and sometimes killing machines.

“I’m thinking too much. Hard to believe, given the need to concentrate, isn’t it? You know, I think I want to be like you, the neighborhood bully. Feed you, and leave you alone, and you’re a happy camper. Mess with you, and you take no prisoners.”

Still pawing, Rampage started rocking from side to side, perhaps trying to smash her legs against the boards. Lifting them, she rested them along the back of his neck.

“End of the ride, old buddy.” With that she dove for the railing. Just as her hands closed around it, Rampage reared, his front hooves inches from her. His bellow made her ears ring.

Strong hands gripped her and pulled her out of the way. Her belly dragged over the railing, and she kicked to help propel herself forward. Her boots struck Rampage, but she didn’t stick around to discover where she’d landed a pathetic blow.

“Had enough?” Cougar asked. With one hand he clung to the railing. The other held her against him.

“Oh, yeah. Quite enough.”

A few feet away, Rampage pounded the ground like some out-of-control jackhammer. She’d sat on him! Sat and talked and felt. Discovered.

“Thank you,” she whispered and rested her head against Cougar’s chest.

“You learned what you needed to?”

Straightening, she looked into the eyes of maybe the one man on Earth who understood. “Yes.”

“Now what?”

“Now I get ready to ride.”

 

There was more than one kind of ride. The first had occurred earlier when she’d ridden Trixie to a second-place finish, secure in the belief that she could coax an even faster run out of her mare during tomorrow night’s final.

As for the second—

“Jordan?”

Cougar’s voice turned her around. The bridle she held started to slide out of her hand, prompting her to clutch it. Believing she wouldn’t see him until long after the show was over, she’d bedded Trixie down but had taken the bridle with her so she could work some lubricant into the leather. Instead of going to her place, she’d wandered back toward the arena complex. Although the fans had left, most of the participants were around the concession stand drinking beer and dissecting everyone’s performance.

“How did you find me?” she asked.

“Maybe instinct.” Taking the bridle from her, he looped it over his neck. Then, obviously not caring who else saw, he took her in his arms and bent her back until she clung to him to keep from falling. Her legs slid between his, and she felt cradled by him.

Alive.

Instinct closed her mouth in on his. The same primitive reaction propelled her pelvis toward his. He was aroused, as turned on as she felt. When he parted his lips, she did the same and welcomed his tongue into her. It circled her mouth and then rolled in and out, igniting memories of another kind of invasion. Familiar heat spun through her.

“Get a room!” a man yelled.

“Do it fast,” another added. “Looks like the two of you are going to be busy all night.”

“Are we?” Cougar asked as he helped her straighten. Instead of releasing her, he pressed on her buttocks and kept her close. If not for their clothes, they already would have been fucking. “Going to be busy all night?”

Taking his face in her hands, she looked up at him. Even as her pelvis gave out a message she intended to explore for as long as the two of them lasted, she faced the world beyond this moment. “You’re going to be leaving as soon as things wind up tomorrow, aren’t you?”

“I have to. The bulls are—”

“Committed to the next rodeo. I know.”

“Not just that one. They’re booked clear up to the finals. And depending on how they perform through the rest of the season, I might be taking a couple of them to the finals.”

“Living on the road.”

“It’ll quiet down some during the winter, but I’m going to be traveling some, looking to replace some of the stock.”

“Not Rampage?”

“No.” His smile lasted no more than a second. “He’ll be around for several more years. What about you? Are you going to try to qualify for the finals?”

A few days ago she hadn’t dared look beyond trying to face her demons. But she had, damnit. If she was ever going to make her mark in the barrel-racing world, this was the time to do it.

If.

Not caring who saw, she rested her hands on his hips. They hadn’t said anything about a future together. This thing between them was too new, and she’d had too much personal baggage to get rid of.

“Don’t,” he warned and removed her hands.

“You don’t want—”

“I don’t trust myself where you’re concerned.”

“You don’t want—”

“Oh, I want, in spades.” His hard and hot gaze left no doubt of his meaning. “But if I go to one rodeo and you go another, the only way I’m going to handle it is by walking away from you, now. I’m not going to stop you, Jordan. Not even going to try. I pulled my life back together, so I think I know what you’ve just gone through. I don’t want your effort to be for nothing.”

“You think I should—”

“I think you should do what you want to with your life and not be pulled from it by what’s been going on between us. If you do, the time will come when you regret it—and resent me.”

I t was probably close to three A.M. Because she hadn’t bothered with anything except her socks, Jordan’s feet were silent on the packed gravel. Although the small rocks dug into her heels, she gave the discomfort scant attention.

She’d tried to sleep. Damnit, she really had.

But as she’d suspected, the answers she’d been seeking had kept her awake. As for whether she would learn more now—

He wasn’t in his rig after all. Instead Cougar was sitting in a lawn chair near it. Only a few lights had been left on to illuminate the grounds. As a consequence, if she hadn’t memorized his contours, she wouldn’t have known that the shadow belonged to him.

Maybe he knew the same thing about her, because he nodded when she drew close and indicated she could sit in the chair next to him. He was barefoot and shirtless.

Had he put out the other chair because he knew she would come? Maybe he’d only been hoping.

“I love this time of night,” she said, sitting down and stretching her weary legs. “The world has gone away, leaving me with my thoughts.”

“You aren’t the only one who’s been thinking.”

“And?” How she wanted to touch him! But not yet.

“No matter what I want, the decision is yours.”

“Which gets down to what do I want to do with my life, right?”

“Right. You faced your demons. You can go forward.”

“Thanks to you. If you hadn’t let me get on Rampage’s back—”

“I believe you would have gotten to this point without me or Rampage. All he and I did, maybe, was get you there faster.”

“You really believe that?”

He didn’t answer. Unless she’d been mistaken, he hadn’t moved a muscle since inviting her to join him in the dark.

“It’s strange,” she said. “Ever since Rampage rearranged my leg bone, I’ve thought of little else. But not tonight while I was trying to fall asleep.” Although her legs threatened to collapse, she stood and moved in front of Cougar. “Tonight I thought about you. Us.”

Gazing into the eyes of the man lost in the night, she unsnapped her shirt and pulled it off her shoulders. Then she held it out, not breathing until he accepted the gift. She hadn’t bothered to put back on her bra after getting out of bed. Neither had she bothered with panties, a fact made clear as she stepped out of her jeans.

“I’ve been doing the same thing,” he said and took the jeans from her.

“If you want me, if you want to explore this thing between us, I’d like to follow you and the bulls.” Her voice was thick with unspent tears and fear more powerful than she’d ever felt. What if he rejected her?.

He dropped her clothes to the ground. “What about competing?”

“If I can get entered in time, I will. But it isn’t a priority.”

Instead of asking what her priority was, he took her hands and pulled her close. “It’s an insane life. I don’t really have a home.”

“I don’t need one.” Tears trickled down her cheeks. “Just—just you.”

“What about your life?”

“You—you’re my life. As long as I have that, everything else will fall into place.”

Standing, he lifted her in his arms. Clinging to his neck, she pressed her cheek against his chest as he carried her into his sleeping quarters. A nightlight in the bathroom was the only illumination.

“Welcome home,” he said and laid her on his bed.