Cowboy Strong

2

THE NIGHT WAS passing slower than any Ty could remember. The second hand on the clock ticked and paused, ticked and paused, seemingly searching for the energy to tick again. He tossed and turned, went down to check on Gizmo, then went back up to his hotel room to toss and turn again. He needed to blow off a little steam, and sex was his preferred method.

And his mind was locked on one particular redhead, a woman he’d had numerous times but never could get out of his system.

It wasn’t as though Ty was actually into exhibitionism. He’d just wanted to push the fringes of experience and try something new, and she’d always been safe—as well as seriously fun—to play with. And bless the powers that be, darling Kenzie hadn’t balked. His pulse quickened. Hell, if anything, she’d asked him for more. But he hadn’t been certain how much “more” was wise in the barn.

He’d also had a fleeting moment of insecurity, wondering if she’d want more of what he’d offered just then or more of him in general. The former he could provide, and gladly. He’d always liked women, had always been insistent that everyone left satisfied. But him offering more than what the moment afforded all parties? No. That type of “more” had never been on the table. Ever.

His rolled over and punched his pillow.

Earlier, the competitors had drawn for their bracket positions, and he’d drawn third out of fifty riders. It was a crappy pick. He’d have much preferred to ride somewhere between thirtieth and thirty-fifth so he knew how hard to push Gizmo and how much showmanship was required to keep his horse in the top ten while still preserving enough energy to really clean up if he was called to a tiebreaker.

Flopping onto his back, he stared at the shadowed ceiling. Insomnia sucked. Bad. Insomnia alone sucked worse. He really needed some feminine company to get his mind off all the people who’d be watching him and Gizmo, both live and on TV. The pressure of those anticipated stares grew heavy in the silence, then heavier still, until he thought he might not be able to draw a breath due to the weight on his chest.

The bedcovers tangled around his feet as he lurched upward. He got his feet underneath him, shoved his room key in the pocket of the complimentary robe before tugging it on and then grabbed his cell as he headed for the door.

He hit 6 on speed dial and waited as the call connected. When she answered, he let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

“Why are you calling me—” covers rustled and her jaw cracked as she yawned “—at one thirty in the morning?”

Thoughts of her in bed, her lithe body clad in little—or nothing—made him adjust his robe for better coverage. “What room are you in?”

“You’re looking for a booty call from the wrong woman. I’m sleeping.”

“You lost the wager.” He spoke so fast his words ran together.

Silence.

“I beat you at regionals, so I entered nationals with a points lead. Means I get my fantasy fulfilled first,” he pressed.

“We aren’t on the boards yet.”

Her cautious tone worried him, made his response sharper than he’d intended. “Actually, we are. I went to check on Gizmo and Indie earlier tonight, make sure they were settled, and end-of-season scores have been posted.”

“Well,” she mused, “I suppose that puts you on top of me.”

His cock kicked hard enough there was no hiding it. Thankfully, the hallway was empty. “On top’s not where I want to be.”

She chuckled, the sound sleep heavy, sultry. “You realize that if I beat you here, I’ll top you in points and earnings for the year.”

His brow creased. “No. Just until the next rodeo season starts.”

“Not by your logic. You’re saying you get to have your fantasy tonight because you’re ahead in points in a competition that hasn’t started. Well, this exact same competition won’t start again until December next year, so I could feasibly be ahead of you in points until they post next year’s regional totals on the nationals boards. Same thing you’re doing, just building out the timeline.”

His mouth went dry and he stopped, resting his shoulder against the wall. “You’re making me think this was a bad idea.”

“Good or bad, it was your idea, Tyson,” she said softly. “Room 1134. Show up and own it, or hang up and don’t. But make up your mind in the next five minutes or I’m going back to sleep and I won’t answer after that. Not the phone, and definitely not the door.”

The line went dead. If he showed up now, he’d be accepting the fact that she was right—his terms had been pretty broad and rather unclear. If she beat him, could she, would she, want to see him for the next year? That would take this thing between them outside their established bounds of competition romps. Make it more than an occasional tryst. As in...dating.

The idea didn’t repel him, and that alone should have been enough to turn him right around and have him back in his room before he lost what was left of his mind.

He decided not to give the thought too much attention, though, so he pushed off the wall and resumed his trek toward the elevator bank.

He reached the elevators just as one opened and dumped off a group of highly intoxicated bridesmaids supporting one barely conscious bride. To a woman, they looked him over as if he were the best thing they’d seen all night. While he wasn’t entirely comfortable with it, he still smiled and flirted a little before stepping into the elevator car and winking at them as the doors closed. It was, after all, what anyone who knew him would have expected of him.

He punched the button for the eleventh floor and ignored the way his belly dipped as the car started its upward climb.

Because he knew with the kind of certainty that discomfited a man that the belly drop had nothing to do with the elevator and everything to do with the woman in room 1134.

* * *

KENZIE HAD BEEN fast asleep when her cell phone rang. Part of her had known before squinting at the bright caller ID who it would be. The other part of her had grumbled and threatened to go back to sleep, right up to the point she swiped the answer button on the screen and heard Ty’s voice. His seductive teasing? Pretty much expected. Lust swamping her like a johnboat with a cannonball hole in its center? Not so much.

After disconnecting the call, she lay there considering her parting shot. He’s not going to show up after I challenged him like that.

She had no idea where the idea to challenge him had come from. She’d only known she wasn’t about to simply roll over and let him have his way with her because he was coiled tighter than a self-winding watch on an MMA fighter’s wrist. It didn’t matter that she wanted him just as bad and was wound just as tight. The principle of the thing mattered—the principle and their agreement.

Well, that added to the fact that he wasn’t one to fish the same pond over and over if the catch was too easy. He needed the challenge, and it had to come across as near defiance if a woman thought to reel him in for even a single passionate night.

And she posed a more authentic challenge than most. What she needed was to have a quality man chasing her, not someone simply after the Malone name or associated fortune. As the sole Malone heir, she’d learned this lesson by age fourteen.

At fifteen, Jack Malone, her father and her idol, had pulled her aside to administer some of the best advice Kenzie had ever received. “When we lost your brother, others assumed I’d want another son to pass the Malone legacy on to, but you know—” he’d gripped her arms “—you know I wouldn’t trade you for all the Spanish gold hidden in the ocean’s depths. And when it comes to taking a man as husband, I won’t make that choice for you. I don’t care if the man you fall in love with is an artist, a pilot, a musician, a doctor or a garbageman. I set your trust up for you to be well-off, so your man doesn’t have to be rolling in money to make you happy.” He’d taken her by the shoulders then, his grip just this side of painful. “I have loved your mother through both lean years and flush times. Money can’t make a marriage, let alone a happy marriage,” he’d said softly before clearing his throat, voice gruff when he’d refocused on Kenzie. “You find the man you want to wake up to for the rest of your life, the man you can’t help but give your heart to, and you marry him. Just promise me you won’t elope, baby girl. You’re my one shot to publicly blubber as father of the bride.”

Now here she was, waiting on a man she desired and equally admired to come to her room at her invitation. “Sheer irony. Nothing more,” she whispered, stretching her clasped hands above her head. She should probably brush her hair before—

The rap at her door, soft but firm, had her throwing the covers back at the same time her heart lodged itself in her throat. He showed up. She wouldn’t overanalyze it, wouldn’t overthink it. She’d just enjoy it.

Padding across the room in her cami and thong, she peered through the peephole and bit her bottom lip. Ty stood there, hands in his pockets, and grinned at her. That man wore a borrowed robe better than anyone she’d ever seen. “Hopeless,” she muttered, unsure whether it was him she spoke about or herself.

She opened the door.

Ty slipped inside, bare feet silent on the carpet. He swiftly shut the door and, grabbing her around the waist, spun and pressed her against the wall. Lips, full but soft, teased along her jaw, and he whispered, “Missed you.”

Don’t believe him, her mind volunteered. You’re no one special to him. After all, he’s known as the Rodeo Romeo.

She stiffened.

Lifting his head to stare down at her, Ty’s gaze roamed her face. “Something wrong?”

“No.” She smiled absently. “I’m good.”

He curled a finger under her chin and lifted until met his stare. “Surely you can do better than that.”

“It’s the middle of the night, Ty. ‘Good’ is pretty damn spectacular.”

He laughed quietly, pulling her into his arms and backing her to the bed. “I’ll do my best to make sure you don’t regret answering your phone.”

“Your first task is keeping me awake.”

He nipped her ear. “This is my fantasy, Malone. That starts with you being awake and receptive to my cunning seduction.”

“And it ends with?”

Again he lifted his head, but all signs of teasing had disappeared. Dark brown eyes bored into hers, the weight of their intent scattering goose bumps along her skin. “It ends with you screaming my name.”

Her mouth formed a small O, but no sound emerged. She was too surprised at his directness to utter anything more than the most fundamental thought. “When did you get so serious about sex?”

Ty leaned forward, his lips brushing hers as soft as a butterfly’s caress. “When you answered your phone. I need you as much as I want you tonight, Mackenzie.”

The way her name rolled so richly off his tongue made her whimper.

She should answer. She really should. But the words were stuck in her throat behind her thundering heart.

He wants me, needs me.

Never had he admitted to anything more than “craving” her. The hunger to hear him confess it again almost had her asking for him to repeat his words, but pride intervened. Then he slid a hand between them, deft fingers manipulating her sex with skill born of experience, and all thoughts of admissions evaporated. Heat built between them faster than sheer winds from a prairie storm’s dry line. He’d never been this way with her, never been anything more than a fun bed partner she enjoyed when their paths crossed and she was in the mood. This man? He was different, in control, almost predatory. Closing her eyes, she gripped the looped cotton weave of his robe and let her head fall back, gasping slightly when he laid his lips to the hollow of her throat.

His huffed out a small laugh against her skin. The smell of mint hit her—toothpaste—as his breath wafted up, strong and clean.

“Kiss me,” she murmured, tossing his hat aside in order to run her fingers through his hair.

“Demanding little thing,” he answered, weaving a hand of his own through her mass of curls and fisting it in her hair just tight enough her eyes widened. He stared at her for several seconds before placing his cheek next to hers, so close that his lips caressed her ear as he spoke. “Tonight’s my fantasy. You agreed to the terms when I called. Clear?”

“You going to bite me again?” she asked, exhaling slowly.

“Absolutely.”

“Then, hell yes, we’re clear, but only if you quit stalling.”

Ty chuckled as he shrugged out of his robe and stood before her, gloriously nude and unashamed of his body. His abs tightened as she touched the muscled ridges and valleys, tracing the chiseled six-pack of his torso, the ropy lengths of muscle in his arms and the corded strength in his legs. The way his lats cut down his abs and framed his long, thick arousal. She let her gaze linger there, and that seemed to be his undoing.

Scooping her up, he sank onto the bed and rolled to his back, placing her on top of him. He ran a hand around the back of her neck and pulled her down as he rose toward her. Stopping millimeters from their mouths colliding, his hot breath washed over her.

She licked her bottom lip. They were so close her tongue brushed over the soft skin of his full lower lip. The faint taste of mint lingered there as the scent did on his breath.

Ty’s eyes flared, pupils dilated as he closed the last of the distance between them, claiming her mouth without hesitation. Tongues dueled, lips sucked and harsh breaths wound together in something akin to demands, not requests, made by desperate lovers.

It was a war she wanted to fight forever, one she might never want to win.

Lying back, he encouraged her to straddle his hips. He bent his knees, pushing her forward. Her dark red curls fell in a curtain around them to create the sensation they were cocooned, the world forever far away. He broke this kiss, the rapid rise and fall of his chest mirroring hers. “Hell’s fires, woman. Give a man a chance.”

Kenzie traced his bottom lip with her thumb, clenching her thighs around his hips when he nipped her finger. “Chance to what?”

“Seduce you.” In a swift move, he rolled her over. “It was supposed to be a drawn-out seduction, with me doing the seducing.”

“And...” Kenzie prompted.

“I’m the one being seduced. Your mouth should come with a warning label.”

“It does,” she said, lowering her face to his and kissing him slowly this time, in a leisurely exploration, tasting him, sipping from his mouth, running her hands over his pecs and wrapping her legs around his waist.

He broke away only to bury his face in the crook of her neck. “You wreck me.”

“And that’s a bad thing?” she teased, tracing her fingers lightly down his rib cage.

Ty sucked in a breath and shivered. Without looking, he reached over the edge of the bed and dug through his robe, retrieving a condom. “I can’t wait, Kenzie. I wanted to, but this first time is going to be rough, fast. I need...” He shrugged, fumbling with the wrapper until, cursing, he sat back on his knees and sheathed his length. “I really want...” he began again.

Those words again—need, want—used in relation to her. “We’re dancing to the same tune, Ty.”

Eyes narrowing and mouth tightening to a thin line, he took her arm and gently pulled. “Roll over.” She followed his direction only to have him grasp her hips and lift. “On your knees, Mackenzie.”

She’d barely assumed the position when he pulled her down his entire length with enough strength to make her cry out with a surprised thrill. “Tyson!”

He pushed her shoulders to the mattress. “Arms wide.”

She complied, but slowly, earning a quick slap to the ass that set more than her skin on fire. He rubbed his hand over the stinging skin and whispered words of encouragement to her. Then he began to thrust and retreat. All she could do was feel, experience and indulge in Tyson.

His fingers dug into her hips as he pumped faster. “Hold on to the sheets and don’t let go.”

Arching her back and lifting her rear higher earned his praise as well as a heartfelt curse. “Can’t...baby... I can’t...” He reached around her and found her clitoris, manipulating it almost frantically as the arm that held him up shook and his rhythm faltered.

Orgasm crashed into her and she offered his name to the heavens in a soulful cry, his voice joining hers. Their fingers wove together, tightening, as they grounded each other through the emotional onslaught.

When it passed, Kenzie relaxed her hand and made to turn over, but Ty gently lowered himself onto her back. “You know better than to think we’re done, darlin’.”

“It’s late, Ty,” she contentedly murmured into the pillow.

He rained kisses all over her shoulders. “It’s never too late for round two, Mackenzie.”

Hiding her face in her pillow, she smiled.

That was exactly what she’d hoped he’d say.

3

TY LET KENZIE drift off to sleep around 4:30 a.m. before quietly gathering his things to leave. Door open, the light from the hallway cutting through the room’s darkness, he glanced back. She looked like a fallen angel with her nude body spread across the bed, lips kiss swollen and hair in disarray. Long lashes fluttered against her cheeks and opened enough to reveal the brilliant blue of her eyes. Her soft sigh revealed her immediate understanding that he was leaving.

Normally that would be Ty’s cue to go. But there was something about Kenzie, something about the way she’d given herself to him tonight, that rode his conscience. For the first time, Ty wanted to stay, to see the night through and wake up to her face in the morning. It was the strangest sensation, this foreign need to wake up with a woman in his arms. Not just any woman, but this woman.

He strode back to the bed. Ignoring her unguarded surprise, he bent over her and kissed her, all tongue and teeth and heat. She responded, arching into the hand he placed on her breast and wrapping a hand around the arm parked next to her head.

The ever-simmering ember of desire that lay between them fanned to life, the flame licking at the base of his spine as his shaft thickened.

“Stay,” she whispered against his mouth, tracing his bottom lip with the tip of her tongue.

He tried to imagine waking up to her beautiful face, tried to imagine her hair spread over his pillow. Sure, he could see it, but he could also imagine it being the beginning of something much larger, something he hadn’t ever believed he would want. The longer he thought of the possible consequences, the more actively hesitation shoved at his willingness to try. It took only seconds for hesitation to win the battle, if not the war.

Ty stood. “I can’t, darlin’. You know I’ve got to be up early.” Without a word, she watched as he retied his robe with fumbling fingers. “I’ll see you in the morning?”

Still, she said nothing.

He left as quickly as he’d arrived, anxiety driving him into the hall and all the way to his room. Whatever she’d wanted from him sexually, she’d definitely gotten. Beyond that? He refused to examine their exchange too closely.

Sleep dogged his heels when, several minutes later, he slipped into his room and quietly shut the door. He’d preset the alarm on his smartphone before knocking on Kenzie’s door, ensuring he’d be up early enough he wouldn’t have to rush to the barn. Shuffling through the dark room, he paused to set the desktop radio alarm as a backup, shed his robe and then collapsed onto his bed. The air conditioner’s sharp click preceded the smell of refrigerated air, slightly canned and stale, as it swept across the room. For all that he preferred the outdoors, the artificially cooled air was bliss on his overheated skin. Air-conditioning always helped him sleep.

The robe tangled around his legs and he kicked at it even as he tried to retrieve the covers. No luck. The cooler he grew, the more determined he was to simply stop fighting and give in to sleep. Without at least a few z’s, it would be pointless for him to show up in the arena in—he cracked one eye and peered at the clock—less than four hours. Gizmo deserved more than that from him. His eyes drifted shut.

Sometime later, he woke with a start and the absolute, sickening certainty he was late. A quick check of his watch proved his instincts right. Very. He glanced at the desktop clock and realized it was an hour slow. If he’d depended on that alarm alone, he’d have missed the competition altogether.

My phone. Where the hell’s my phone and why didn’t that alarm go off?

He’d last had his phone in his robe. He dug through the pockets. Not there.

Didn’t matter. There wasn’t time to hunt it down. The rules required him to be ready and warming up thirty minutes prior to his call time. He had less than an hour before he and Gizmo were due in the competition arena, less than twenty-five minutes before he had to be in the warm-up ring.

Yanking on jeans with one hand while he tried to pull on his shirt with the other proved fruitless and forced him to slow down. Man, he had not wanted to start nationals this way. He got himself together and sprinted from the room, rode the elevator to the lobby and raced through the crowds. He uttered apologies as he clipped folks left and right.

Another glance at his watch as he waited to cross the street to the temporary stalls said he had thirteen minutes to prep Gizmo and get him to the ring.

Damn it. Not enough time.

The light changed and he kicked into an all-out sprint through even heavier crowds. His stomach plummeted when—from twenty yards away—he saw the top of the Dutch door was already open. He slid to a stop in front of the stall...and gaped.

Kenzie stood there casually brushing the horse’s tail. Gizmo had been saddled up, his reins looped over the wall-mounted hitching ring. His splint boots rested in the tack bucket she’d hauled out with her.

“What are you doing?” The question whipped across the distance, sharp enough to cause Gizmo to bob his head and paw the ground in protest.

“Why, I’m putting pretty polka-dot bows in your manly horse’s tail before I paint his hooves ‘I’m Not Really a Waitress’ red by OPI, of course,” Kenzie answered, just as brittle. “That way you might fool the steers, mesmerizing them with his handsome appearance. Just a hint? Right here, a ‘thank you, Kenzie’ wouldn’t be inappropriate.”

Ty stared at her, his eyebrows climbing into his hairline. “You’re such a smart-ass.” Grabbing the splints, he knelt in front of his horse and, moving quickly, yanked the Velcro straps in place.

“And you’re behaving like a real jackass.” She tossed the steel comb at him. “I came down to feed Indie and saw you hadn’t taken care of Gizmo. The longer you went without showing up, the more I began to think it might be helpful if I lent a hand. I actually just called your cell to make sure you were up. My bad, seeing as you clearly have this under complete control. I suppose I should tell you to ignore the voice mail where I yell at you to get your butt in gear.”