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  “Most days,” Stephanie grumbles. And we laugh at their penchant for breaking up and getting right back together. Stephanie finally confessed to us that once they’d discovered how fun making up was, now their break ups are more staged than anything else.

  “All right,” Meredith continues. “That leaves Austin, Stone, Trent, and James. I’m single. Lauren’s single.”

  “Lauren’s totally good with being single,” she rushes out.

  “And Stone’s off limits,” I assert, feeling a protective urge. The girls just roll their eyes at me. “What? He’s young.”

  “You have your eye on one of them, Meredith?” Maggie asks.

  A slow blush steals over her porcelain skin. “Maybe,” she teases. “I’ve never dated a cowboy, let alone a bull rider.”

  “It’s an experience,” Stephanie quips.

  And I can’t stand it. If she goes over and flirts with one of the other guys, I have no idea how Austin will react, and it’ll be all my fault. “Austin’s nice,” I say lamely, not wanting to be too obvious.

  “He really is,” she agrees quietly. “He’s so cute, and of course, he’s quite the character.” I breathe a sigh of relief.

  “Oh my God!” Maggie squeals. “Austin would make a great boyfriend. He’s so funny and totally inappropriate, but really, can’t you just imagine all that honed in on you?” She squeals again, oblivious to the death glare I give her.

  “I didn’t realize you knew him,” I prompt Meredith, trying to get us back on track.

  “We’ve had a few classes together over the last year or so,” she pauses, taking on a thoughtful look. “I thought he was interested in me for a while there, but he never asked me out. Just kept things friendly. Maybe we’ll change things up a bit tonight,” she adds with a sly grin, shocking the hell out of me.

  You’re welcome, Austin!

  Plans made, we break. I saunter over to the bar and wedge myself between Ransom and Pete. Ransom turns and props himself up on his elbow, giving me a lazy grin. Then he winks at me. And damn it, he knows that wink is all-powerful. It almost throws me off my game. Almost.

  Grinning back, I say, “Fancy meeting you boys here, huh?”

  “Yeah, crazier things have happened,” he teases in that husky voice of his. Well, he’s just deploying all his weapons, isn’t he? Voice, grin, and wink … oh my!

  “Oh, so this is just a coincidence then?”

  “Looks like,” he whispers, having moved right in next to my ear. “You’ve braided your hair.”

  My ability to speak deserts me, since he’s got all my senses overwhelmed now. I actually nuzzle at his neck for a split-second before shaking off the sensual fog. The girls will be so disappointed in me. “My boyfriend likes my hair like this,” I finally point out. “And I’ll be seeing him later tonight.”

  “What can I get for you?” the bartender interrupts. Like any college student worth her salt, I have now acquired myself a very convincing fake ID, so I order myself a Jack and Coke. Ransom just quirks a brow at me. Hey, his rules have been revised to drink but don’t get drunk and only drink around him, and since he’s decided to grace me with his presence, I’m going to indulge a little.

  We have kind of a friendly stare down while I wait for my drink. Once the bartender slides my drink in front of me, I snatch it up, and on a whim, steal Ransom’s cowboy hat off of his head. “I’m gonna be needing this. Thanks!” I smirk and spin away from him before he can protest. I slide the hat down on my head, take a sip of my drink, and make my way across the bar. And I feel his eyes caress my every step. I make sure to give him a good floorshow.

  I’ve timed it just right. I nearly cheer when the mechanical bull rider operator motions me over for my turn. Another girl dismounts the bull, and the guys crowd around her, going nuts. She’s flushed, barefooted, and seems to have a hard time pulling her skirt out of her ass.

  “What kinda ride you looking for, cowgirl?” the operator asks me.

  “As close to the real thing as you can get. I’m not interested in one of those sexy, slow rides, so that means start me off at a decent speed, crank it up quick, and keep me guessing.”

  “Oh, I see. And I like,” he grins. “Any song requests?”

  I mull that over for a second. “Got some Charlie Daniels? ‘Devil Went Down to Georgia’ in particular?”

  “Gotcha covered, sweetheart.” I sign the little waiver, acknowledging that I’m the only one at fault if I get my ass kicked, and bounce up onto the inflated riding ring. My cowgirl boots dig into the foamy, protective surface. I position myself at the side of the surprisingly lifelike bull, taking a deep bow as the announcer calls out, “Give it up for our next bull rider, Miss Denver!” His voice echoes out over the cheering crowd, and a rush of adrenaline floods my veins. I fight the urge to look for Ransom in the crowd, but I can feel him watching me.

  Hitching one leg over the bull, I hop on and straddle it. The operator comes over to make sure I’m situated, and to remind me of the finer points. “Hey,” I shout, as he turns back to me. “Don’t stop him if you see me falling off. Either he decides when this ride is over or I do, got it?”

  Laughing, he nods at me. “What about if you’re going over his head? Most girls don’t like that.”

  “Let it play out,” I demand.

  Tightening my grip on the leather handle, I ready myself to either look like a god or a fool. The operator gets behind his controls, and of course, does that thing where he jostles the bull so my ass jiggles slowly and suggestively, as he makes harmless innuendos.

  The first forward jolt has me clenching my legs tight before he puts me in a spin, and it’s everything I can do to keep my arm extended over my head when my instincts kick in for me to hold on. Just when I get used to the spin, he sends the bull into a forward lurch that gets a yelp out of me, and then I’m in a backward lurch before spinning again. I find my rhythm though, and like Ransom had told me not too long ago, I just feel the bull and go with it. “Get out of your head, and don’t try to anticipate what he’ll do,” he told me once when I’d asked him to describe what it felt like to ride. “Feel him.” And boy, do I. He shakes and jerks and pitches, and the crowd is roaring now, but they’re just white noise being drowned out by my thundering heart.

  When he sends the bull into a reverse spin, I almost come unglued, but I right myself, hoop, holler, and grin big. Finally the bull slows, and I chuckle as I realize I must have ridden my eight seconds, but my laughter dies out quickly as the bull springs back to life. I’m jarred off balance, and Ransom’s hat flies off, but I manage to pull myself back up and ride out the series of moves he dishes out. When he slows this time, I don’t let my guard down until I feel him stop completely, and my score is announced. I didn’t catch it, but I glance up to the clock and finally do cheer when I see my time went over eight seconds.

  Giving one last whoop! and throwing my fist in the air, I fight coming back down to earth, not ready to relinquish the high. I throw my leg over to hop off, but instead, I end up throwing myself into Ransom’s waiting arms. I’d thought the crowd was nuts before, but now they are positively manic. Ransom and I wrap our arms around each other as he walks me off the cushy mat in a full-body hold.

  Burying my face in his neck, I marvel, “I get it. I so get it.” I don’t sound like myself. I sound like a young, giddy version of me, though, so I don’t fight it. Lifting my head, I capture him with my gaze and then with a quick kiss. I can only imagine what I must look like right now. I know I have a wild look in my eyes, and my hair is as sticky with perspiration as is my face and back.

  If the look in Ransom’s eyes means what I think it means, he must not mind. “What do you get?”

  “The ride. The letting go. The living in the moment. No thinking, only feeling and being. God, the amount of trust you have to put in it and yourself, knowing it could gut you and leave you broken and shattered, but when you see it till its end … it’s exhilaration. Power. Peace.”

  I
don’t know if I stop talking and he kisses me, or if he kisses me to stop me from talking, but either way, he kisses what little breath I had clean out of me until we rest our foreheads together, gasping for air. It dawns on me then that I’m still dangling from his arms, but I’m good with that.

  “Denver, sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.” He says it playfully so it kind of rhymes and makes me giggle. “She still broke two of my rules tonight, and for that, she’ll have to face the consequences,” he says, still playful but with an edge. My eyes widen, and my giggling quickly subsides. And the body that had just begun to cool off, flares with heat once again. He sets me down, angles his cowboy hat just right, and whispers, “You and the girls have fun. I’ll see you back at the apartment,” before strutting off back toward the bar. Sonofabitch!

  “I don’t know about you girls, but I’m about to get my cowboy and head home,” Stephanie decrees, only slightly slurring her words.

  “What happened to ‘arrive together, leave together?’” Lauren asks.

  “Well, I suppose, in theory, it sounded good. Right up until our naughty boys crashed the party.” She gazes over my shoulder, presumably eyeballing Gage as I’d caught her doing several times tonight. “I mean, look at the guy. Those abs. You’ve seen them?” she urges. We all nod in agreement because, good Lord, yes, we’d all fallen victim to gawking at Gage’s eight-pack. They’re already legendary. “I didn’t even know they made such a thing,” she continues. “They deserve their own Facebook page,” she declares, ignoring the raucous laughter she sets off. “Yeah, it would be like a public service thing, educating the masses.”

  “OK,” Lauren wheezes, “we get that you’re obsessed with Gage’s abs. What about you, Maggie? Pete’s finest asset?” She waggles her brows.

  “Mmm,” Maggie purrs. “Hands! Gotta go with those talented hands.”

  “Ugh, Maggie, TMI,” we whine in chorus.

  “Meredith, care to discuss Austin’s biggest draw?”

  “Well, before tonight, I would have said his sense of humor, but that boy can dance too.”

  “Yes, he can,” I agree.

  “Denver?” Maggie taunts. “What about Ransom?”

  “Easy. Eyes … and ass.”

  “No, that’s cheating,” Stephanie complains. “You gotta pick one.”

  “Sorry, ladies. No can do. Ransom looks good going … and coming.”

  “Denver!” Maggie squeals once again, and we fall out laughing again.

  I guess our loud behavior gets the boys’ attention because they pick that moment to come, scoop us up, and carry us away.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Denver

  I’M AS SPOOKED as a green horse on her first day at competition, and I ponder how on earth I got myself here in this moment and time. Ransom and I left the bar together and had a quiet ride back to his apartment, even though he never stopped with his gentle touches and little stolen kisses.

  He told me to get ready for bed, which I interpreted as no playing tonight.

  I groaned aloud because that meant my punishment would be no orgasms.

  He chuckled at my obvious display of pouting.

  Then he proceeded to blow my mind with Oh, you’ll have your pleasure, but not before you get the spanking you earned.

  I was left to wonder why, exactly, that did the craziest things to me on the inside—gut clenching, core throbbing, ass already stinging.

  When we both dressed for bed, he sat me down and explained how I had broken not one, but two, rules. And God, did he know how to draw the whole ordeal out.

  You pretended not to know me when you ordered that drink. Counts as drinking without me.

  I told you, under no circumstances, were you to put yourself in harm’s way. You told that operator to take you all the way. Not safe.

  Now, you’ll have to accept your punishment like a good girl.

  My eyes went wide, and he made me repeat my safe words.

  Ransom ordered me to stand in front of him, and he massaged my arms, my lower back, and my thighs. I moaned as he worked all the little kinks out.

  Then he demanded, in that cool, collected voice of his, that my eyes stay on his while he swept his gaze over my entire body—devouring it, wanting it.

  And once I realized I’d completely lost myself in his touch, I likened my reaction to that of a lamb being led to slaughter.

  Obedient.

  Peaceful.

  Willing, in its innocence.

  Until he uttered those words … Bend over across my lap, Denver.

  Oh, my. Oh, my. OH. MY! Anticipation and fear battled and tangled deep within me.

  Which brings me to the here and now, as Ransom scrunches my camisole nightie to rest high on my back. His fingertips skate down my spine, and he whispers how beautiful I look. How proud he is of me for trusting him to fulfill my needs.

  “Do you know what you did wrong tonight?”

  He didn’t tell me how to address him now, so I go with my instincts and with a sigh, I answer, “Yes, John.”

  “What happens when you break one of my rules, Denver?”

  Moaning, I answer, “I have to be punished, John.”

  “Mmm … ” He works his hand over the fabric of my panties, complementing me on how lush and beautiful my behind is, and when his words make me squirm, I feel his hard length dig into my hip. “Be still,” he orders. Letting out a quiet sigh, I force myself to relax. “Good girl,” he praises.

  After several long seconds of him torturing me with his hand and the wait, he asks, “How many do you think you deserve?”

  What would happen if I say too many? Or too little? “However many you think I deserve, John,” I reply.

  “Fuck,” he grounds out. I smile against the mattress—must’ve been the right answer. “Ten. One for each time you made me hard tonight.” Oh God!

  His hand finally stops moving at my backside, but then I feel it pulling at the rubber band holding my braid. Swiftly, he unbraids my hair and pushes it off my neck. “Hmm … these cords of leather you had braided through your hair are perfect. Well, I really only need one,” he says, sounding completely unaffected. I don’t have to wonder what he means for too long. He quickly folds my arms behind my back, wrapping the soft thread of leather around my wrists before tying it up. “There. Now, we don’t have to worry about you moving around.”

  I have to bite my lip before I yell at him to get on with it.

  “Ready?”

  “Yes, John,” I barely breathe.

  The flat of his palm lands squarely on my left cheek, forcing a rush of air from my lungs. I’m relieved it didn’t actually hurt and I was able to stay still. Another smack across the other cheek, and I’m still good. I suck in a startled breath on the next spank because it’s slightly off-center and decidedly harder. He lands a couple of more slaps, never in the same place.

  “Let’s see how you’re doing,” he muses, before sliding my panties down to rest at my thighs. His hand roams over my smarting bare behind, caressing and then squeezing. “Pink,” he whispers in awe. “Hot,” he breathes. “And so wet,” he rasps as he slides one finger inside me. I should be humiliated and embarrassed, and on one level I am, but turned on and proud beat those other emotions into submission.

  He massages me at an infernally slow pace and peppers me with his words. “Do you have any idea what it did to me when I realized how high you asked to be taken? I fought with myself over pure pride, and paralyzing fear. If you succeeded, you’d be on top of the world. If you failed, you could have hurt yourself. But that’s OK, because now you’re making it up to me.”

  His slips his finger out of me, ignoring how my body instinctively clenches around him as it tries to hold him there. When the first slap to my naked bottom sounds out across the room, so does my first cry. Hurts. Tears prickle my eyes as the dueling sensations of pleasure and pain work their way through me. The spanking over my clothes was just a warm-up. This is the real deal. Again and again, blows rain dow
n on me, and John shushes me and whispers words of praise and encouragement. Just as I think that has to be ten, a final slap lands where the first had, my tears spill over, and two fingers enter me. And, like heat-seeking missiles, they hone in on that sweet spot, forcing an orgasm from me in record time.

  He has me pinned against him so I am forced to ride out the gentle waves of pleasure, and I feel like I’m surfing and being warmed by the sun. Ransom must loosen his hold because I’m suddenly writhing in his lap, and when I do, my clit grinds against his knee. John catches my subtle movement and rewards me with a pitch to my tender bottom, ratcheting up my pleasure by yet another notch. Latching on to all those sensations extends my release, and when I start to come down, it feels like I’m free falling from heights unknown.

  My hands are released from the leather cord, and I feel my body being turned and pushed up to lie on the bed properly. Ransom slides against me, his legs intertwining with mine. “Damn, baby. You were incredible. Trusting me like that, letting me have control—nothing could please me more.”

  Hmm … is all I can manage. Sated and secure, I just drift.

  Blinking my eyes open, I glance around the quiet, darkened room. Looking at the clock, I realize I haven’t been out for long. The bed is empty, of course. Just like it always is after he brings me to climax. This time is going to be different, I determine. Glancing down my body, I note that Ransom must’ve shifted my clothes back in place.

  My footsteps bring me to the bathroom door, and sure enough, I hear the water beating down from the shower. Other than letting me explore his chest and his back and his arms, Ransom has never let me touch him. We’re long overdue to change that.

  I try the handle, and the door opens unhindered. Pushing it back slowly, I ease in the room, and the sight before me takes my breath away. God, how many times have I imagined a naked Ransom? Too many to count. He lives up to, no exceeds, every fantasy I’ve ever had. I want him inside me with a longing so fierce—like nothing I’ve ever felt before. I want to taste every inch of him, show him every bit of pleasure he’s shown me, and I’m willing to do anything to make that happen.