I jumped, dropping my keys, and whirled to face the man who was probably Pistol Rock Motor Lodge’s only guest. The Stetson stepped into my line of sight and then a tan hand scooped my keys up off the pavement.

  “I think you dropped something,” Colt said, tossing my keys in his hands.

  I reached for them, but he skipped backward, shaking his head.

  “Oh no you don’t, Deputy.” He shoved my keys deep into the front pocket of his jeans and pinched the brim of his hat back at me. “I think you might want to hear what I have to say.”

  I looked at him, waiting. His high-handedness reminded me too much of Gunner, and that bothered me more than a little—mostly because whenever Gunner got this way, I tended to do my best to one-up him, which frequently landed us in bed. I was good with that when it came to my Wrangler-wearing cowboy but hated the thought that Colt Larsen, a federal marshal, could make a reasonable substitute just because my lethally sinful, bad boy Texas Ranger was out of town. It was not something I liked to admit about myself—that one arrogant, barking-mad cowboy might be as good as another when it came to a certain kind of itch.

  “Why would I want to do that?” I said finally when it was clear one of us would have to give in and go first, and he clearly didn’t plan to. His grin was smug. “Because maybe I can help you solve this case.”

  The man had finally said something I wanted to hear.

  “Go on,” I said, straddling the curb. “Although I’m not sure how you plan on solving this case when our only lead is probably right now swimming across the Rio Grande.”

  “Folks have a way of talking to federal marshals.” He rocked back on his heels. “Plus, I have a feeling that you and this Sims gal aren’t exactly close.”

  I extended a hand. “Meet me at the station at ten.”

  Colt smiled and dropped my car keys into my palm. “Early risers are my kinda of women.”

  My cruiser clipped the mailbox as I drove down the gravel path leading up to my house. I watched the dead grass roll past the window and listened to the night air beat and whip against the car doors. At that moment, I was so antsy to flop back on my pillow that I had to force my eyes to stay open. I coasted to a stop out back by the shed, killed the engine, and stepped out under the humid Texas night sky.

  The storm door burst open and out strutted a pair of black cowboy boots, and then that infamous black cowboy hat filled the doorway.

  “Holy shit!” I gasped, surprised. “I wasn’t expecting to see you for a couple more days.” I slowly dropped my gaze down the length of his toned, ripped body. For a moment there I zoned out. When I heard his signature deep, throaty “I’ll give you the ride of your life” laugh, I snapped back to topic. “I’ve missed you so much. So damn much, Gunner.”

  “You and me both,” he drawled. “If I didn’t have you to come home to, Laney Briggs, I’m not sure I’d have made it through these past few weeks.” Then he threw me a wink.

  Okay, I’ll admit it. There’s no shame in a little cowboy indulgence. Once or twice I’d been a sucker for a good wink.

  I smiled and slung both hands on my hips. “Well…”

  “Well…” He cocked his head as he lounged back in the doorway, and the way those pussy-electrifying Wranglers were stretching over that firm ass was so unfair. My throat immediately went dry. He tugged at his massive belt buckle, lowered his dangerous brown eyes on me, and stretched that black rattlesnake-inked arm above his head as he tossed me another sinful wink. I ran across the yard and up the porch steps to grab hold of him.

  “This is exactly what I’ve been needing—you,” I said, resting my head against his broad shoulder.

  “Perfect.” He kissed me on the forehead. Then looked me in the eyes. “Ready for bed, sweetheart?” he asked, slipping me that lady-killer grin and pulling me into the comfort of his strong arms.

  I turned my cheek into his chest and stared into the moonlight washing my beaten-down front porch. I don’t know why, but it suddenly irked me that Gunner hadn’t taken the time to whitewash my porch swing. I mean, by the time spring rolled around, the termites would have their icing and cake, too. I forced irritation away, telling myself that I was an idiot who’d been itching to get him back into my sack for the last fourteen days. Bickering with him over the damn swing we’d made love on more than once wouldn’t get him there faster.

  “Yes, I’m beat. You wouldn’t believe the day I’ve had.”

  He kissed me on the head, pulling me tighter against his rock-hard chest. “Well, are you gonna keep me in the dark?” he asked.

  I titled my head back to look him in the face. “Do you want the long or short version?”

  “I’m going out on a hunch here”—he lifted a brow—“and thinking it’s probably best if I ask you to just cut to the chase.”

  It sucked sometimes how well he knew me. Sighing, I filled him in on my crappy night, starting with Elroy and Rip, and ending with Colt Larsen and the missing Missy who was actually Kate.

  Gunner’s eyes widened, and one corner of his mouth tugged up. “Why does all the fun stuff go down when I’m not in town?” His grin widened as he moved in and nuzzled my neck. “You trying to track down Rip’s wife?” he asked casually.

  Aw, hell. He smelled way too damn good, like vanilla spice and leather. I could’ve gotten lost in the feel of him. And really, I just wanted one little taste of him to see if he truly was as delicious as a freshwater spring. His arm tightened around my waist as he hauled me closer against his broad chest. Running my nose down the length of his neck, I whispered, “Things aren’t looking too peachy.”

  He swallowed, long and hard, eyes locked with mine. “I’ll see what I can dig up in Odessa tomorrow, and be careful around Marshal Larsen. Those big-city law boys aren’t very friendly,” he said, breathing me in, “but for right now, talking about the case is the furthest thing from my mind.”

  We reached the front door and I grabbed for the doorknob, but being the respectable, southern gentleman he was, Gunner snagged it first. He twisted the handle and pushed the door open. The lights were out downstairs. I sidestepped him and flipped the switches. The ceiling fan whipped on, a bulb flashed, and all was dark again.

  “Shit,” I grumbled, scooting on inside. “I thought you told me you were going to fix that.”

  That light fixture had been flickering all the way back to when my aunt Faye lived in the house, and Gunner always said he was gonna fix it, but every time he tried to put his hands to use working on something around the place, I ended up finding a way to get those hands of his working on me instead.

  Gunner caught my hand. “Shucks,” he mumbled, and his low, throaty laugh had me wanting to take him on the floor right then and there.

  I tried to compose myself, but all hope was lost when my eyes latched onto his grin. Those snake-charmer dimples were out in full force tonight. He tugged, spinning me back into his arms, and the instant my breasts were pressed against his chest I swear my heart galloped up and out of my throat.

  “What do you say we play a little game of show and tell tonight?” His voice was dark and heated as his brown eyes undressed me inch by inch in the moonlight.

  Eyes locked on his tanned, ruggedly handsome face, I leaned in and brushed my lips against his. Our mouths melded together, and the kiss lingered as our tongues touched, tasting better than homemade apple pie. I could feel his erection pushing and nudging at my belly while he rocked forward on the toes of his boots. Heat rushed to the pit of my stomach, lighting me up. I arched my back and rubbed against him. Gunner had many traits. He could be relaxing to be around. He could be bullheaded. He could be demanding. But most of all, he was my addiction.

  And I was obsessed. I had always been obsessed.

  And maybe true addiction never fades.

  Maybe everything I’d ever wanted or needed was right here…right now.

  This man was no longer the temporary high he’d been when we were younger. My hunger for him had evolved into something much stronger—and that scared me to death. Still, there was no way in hell I’d rather be anywhere else tonight. Then his hands slipped from my waist and his fingers curled up under my shirt. My eyelids fluttered open at the rough yet gentle touch tracing up my spine. And then in one quick movement he’d rolled my uniform shirt up over my head and discarded it—and kissed me again…long and hard. Possessively, he drew my bottom lip between his teeth, commanding every bit of my attention.

  I rolled up on my toes, wet my lips, then pressed my mouth against the stubble covering his wide jaw. The way his Adam’s apple slowly dipped with each nip of my teeth had my pulse racing. I felt his hand sink lower on my back, he nudged a knee between my thighs and, dang it, when the clasp on my bra came apart under his needy fingers, I had trouble seeing straight. My chin jutted up and my eyes flew wide and I could feel my panties grow damp.

  Wanting to share the feeling, I shoved my hand down those badass Wranglers. I had a whole damn day’s worth of shitty-ass casework weighing me down and, by God, I was going to wrap my lips around Gunner’s cock and suck it deep down my throat. Maybe I’d find peace once I got that cum gun to fill me up.

  He jerked when my fingers stroked the head of his penis so I flicked it some more, as that’s always been his undoing. Suddenly, he snaked both arms around my waist, drawing me close, effectively putting a hitch in my fun and games.

  He put his mouth to my ear, brushed a kiss across the nape of my neck, and palmed my breast. I was quickly losing what willpower I had left. I wanted to be bare-ass naked when my belly button came in contact with what I could only describe as the stiffest cock in the West trying to spring free from an annoying zipper.

  “Well, why didn’t you just say you were in the mood to play?” His voice was rough with pleasure. He moved those devilish fingers from my hard, aching nipple, danced them down past my stomach, and into my pants.

  I looked up at him, placed a finger under his chin, then tipped his face toward mine. We locked eyes. “Here’s the deal, cowboy,” I told him. “I’m not in the mood for some eight-second rodeo ride.”

  Gunner threw me a deadly grin, and I was putty in his hands. From the mischievous look on his face, I knew he was gonna nail me good. And long. Again, he circled his arms around my waist, caging me against his stretched-to-the-max black T-shirt and Wranglers. I pinched his butt cheek and felt one big tent pole ram into my stomach.

  “I don’t remember asking you for a backseat quickie.” His voice ran wickedly smooth. “Sweetheart, I have big plans.” He put his mouth to my ear and whispered, “Some might even get you kicked out of hell.”

  Then he kissed me, matching our tongues. He caressed my aching tits. If he wanted to get down and dirty, I was game. Somewhere in between suckling my neck and caressing my breasts, my jeans were unbuttoned and my panties slid lower around my hips. Gunner took his mouth to my nipple and started working overtime to make amends with it. My aching pussy lit on fire as we stumbled backward, tangled together, lip-locked, and in a lustful haze. Boots butted the coffee table. With his encouragement, my jeans dropped onto the living room floor. My back made friends with the couch and my eyes fluttered open when his warm hand found a resting spot on my revved-up cunt.

  I looked him up and down as he knelt between my thighs. “Your jeans, now,” I ordered, gesturing from his face to his Wranglers.

  Gunner splayed a hand on my belly and began to kiss his way up my inner thigh. “What? You don’t like being the only one in your birthday suit?” he asked, letting his mouth linger, his lips brushing and nipping at the crotch of my damp panties.

  Shit, he was a tease.

  I blew a piece of hair off my bottom lip. “It takes two if you wanna party.”

  He tongued me through the scrap of silk, deepening the kiss as he shoved aside the fabric and slid his thumb across my swollen, wet, and oh-so-hungry pussy. “You’ll get your turn, darling.” He nudged my knees to spread my legs wider, and being the good girl that I am, I made him room.

  “This is so unfair.”

  “I never said I play fair, Laney,” he said, and teasingly tugged at the hair surrounding my slick nub.

  And then my G-string met its fate around my ankles. No complaining on my part when he flicked a finger across my love button. I threw my head back over the armrest and spread my legs even wider. He was having way too much fun taking his time, getting me bowed up more than a Halloween cat. He pulled at my erect nipple, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger.

  I lifted my head off the couch, ready to beg him for relief, but damned if I’d do it. “Shit! I’m not gonna be able to take much more, Gunner. I’m about to come as it is.”

  He grazed his thumb across my clit and pinched. “Does that feel like I’m done with the foreplay, darling?” he asked casually and then applied pressure.

  “Oh Lord almighty,” I gasped. “You can’t do that.”

  “This?” He chuckled, squeezing gently again.

  It was time for those Wranglers to find a new home. On the floor looked mighty cozy. I grabbed at his huge belt buckle in hopes of setting that mind-blowing dick free, but that was before he drove two fingers into me and made me arch, gasping, off the couch.

  He practically killed me, thrusting against the outer lips of my sex. Adrenaline pumped through my veins, my toes curled, and he’d hit the mark when he pushed deeper at the exact moment he nipped at my swollen tit, drawing it between his teeth, and sucking hard and quick.

  “I’m dying here, cowboy,” I screamed when a third finger impaled me.

  He smiled at me, and shit, I knew I was in deep trouble. It took only one look at those lethal brown eyes to know he was fixing to give me a run for my money.

  “Don’t you dare.” I squirmed on the couch cushion. I was bare bottomed and pinned beneath a naughty cowboy. The odds weren’t in my favor. “You know I lose it every time, Gunner Wilson.”

  The grin broadened as he tossed his hat on the floor, shrugged off his black T-shirt, and unhitched his belt buckle. Clearly, he was in the mood and rotten as ever. He licked his lips. “My God, you mean the world to me, Laney Briggs.”

  My name rolled off his tongue like a breath of fresh air. Then the sly grin returned. “This will end well for the both of us. I promise, sweetheart.” He grabbed my ankles, planted my feet on the couch, pushed my thighs apart again, and took the plunge. His mouth made a leisurely stroll along my inner thigh as his tongue licked and nipped at my sweaty flesh, stopping at my sweet spot.

  “Relax and enjoy the ride, sweetheart,” he murmured, and then licked me in one long stroke.

  I knuckle-fisted the throw pillows but instantly knew everything had gone to the wayside when his teeth nipped and tugged before he pulled my clit between his moist lips.

  “Shit, Gunner!” I screamed.

  He sucked long and slow, then looked up and licked his lips, his mouth wet with my juices. “Too much?” he teased, still stroking me.

  “Nope,” I lied. “I’d just rather be fucked”—I bit my bottom lip and purred—“and the harder the better.”

  That cocky smirk stepped up a notch. “Now that I can deliver.”

  Abruptly, he jumped upright, slicing open his zipper, shucking the Wranglers, and dropping his boxers. His cock jumped out ready for the challenge, full and thick and moist with pre-cum, making my head spin with all the dirty ways I could put it inside me. He wrapped a hand around his penis, and stroked in a slow, deliberate fashion from the top of his shaft to the bottom.

  “I’m about to blow your mind,” he growled, eyes locked on me.

  There was no doubt in my mind. I snuck a view of the black rattlesnake tattoo, pulsing and stretching along his bulging right forearm as he enjoyed every thick inch of himself.

  “You’re about to ride a cowgirl.” I licked my lips and lowered a hand between my legs. Then I slipped a finger all the way up to my knuckle inside my slick folds. I moved once, stroking and panting, before a hand snaked around my wrist.

  “I think you’re right,” Gunner’s voice was rough and pained. “Foreplay is such a bitch.”

  I smiled, pretty damn pleased with myself. “Cowboy,” I drawled, “finally, we agree on something.”

  Gunner reached behind him, dug his wallet out of the back pocket of his jeans, pulled out a condom, then tossed the wallet on the coffee table. Those brown eyes pierced a direct path to my heart as he slid the condom over the most beautiful cock this cowgirl had ever had the privilege to lay eyes on. When I gave him a satisfied look, he pounced on me, tangling our sweaty bodies together and pinning me beneath the hard planes of his massive chest. His eyes turned dark and his hands wrapped tightly around my wrists and he laid one hell of kiss on me. Then he flipped me over so I was flat on my stomach, ass high, and relishing the licks sliding across my ass. The ache in my belly tightened.

  “Have you been a good girl?” he whispered as his chest weighed me down. When I whimpered with need and nodded, he laughed and brushed his mouth across my ear, saying, “I beg to differ.” Then before I could protest, I felt the sting of his hand across my ass.

  “Come on,” I moaned at the exact moment his hand slapped my ass, “fuck me already.”

  I felt the heat of his breath on my earlobe as he nipped and nibbled at it.

  “You want me bad?” he asked through a kiss.

  I arched my back and looked over my shoulder. “I want you to screw me senseless.”

  “Darling, you’ve roped yourself the right man for the job,” he assured me—then sank his teeth into my shoulder and nudged at my opening.

  Everything came to a standstill. He was killing me with the way he grazed the tip of his penis at my swollen entrance. It wasn’t good for my endurance, let alone my sanity. I couldn’t take anymore. I rubbed against Mr. Happy Pants, and immediately he stilled.

  “You know you want to hear me scream.” I egged him on with a slight push, rubbing his stiff shaft between my butt cheeks. His cock perked to attention and prodded me in the dip above my crack.

 

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