Rope Burn: The Boot Knockers Ranch, Book 5 (16 page)

Tabbart panted.

“Do you want two cocks?” He prayed she would say no. He didn’t want to share her, even though his mind skipped around. Who would he ask? Quay or Elliot were the first Boot Knockers to come to mind.

“Nooo. It’s sexy to watch, though.”

So were her little shifting movements. She rubbed her ass against his cock, inviting more. He’d taken her twice in the ass total and was nowhere near finished with her. But she only had hours left on the ranch.

Soon they’d be at the final rodeo of the week and then she’d be off, taken by private car to a private jet. His chest burned.

The group in the hot tub turned up the volume. Their noises concealed any Tabbart made when Stowe eased his hand into her jeans and began to finger her soaking wet pussy.

She peaked fast and hard. Body jerking against his, her hot flesh pulsating on his fingers. He barely checked his growl of desire but it wouldn’t have mattered. The trio in the hot tub was screaming with release.

Tabbart melted against him, and he supported her. Kissing her ear and throat while swirling his fingers over her still-hard clit. When she turned her mouth to his with incredible sweetness, he felt himself slipping further, deeper. Her leaving the ranch was going to cut him.

As he brought her down from her high, he wondered if she’d like to hear the latest expression revolving in his mind—he was up shit creek without a paddle.

Chapter Ten

When Stowe leaned over where Tabbart lay in bed, she cupped his jaw in both hands and drowned in his dark eyes. Her heart pattered out of control whenever he looked at her that way. And more and more she’d seen that expression on his face. She didn’t know what to make of it, only that she didn’t want to walk away from it.

“Give Cook my compliments on last night’s marinade.”

He brushed his lips over hers with a tenderness that stole her breath away. “I will.”

Then he was pushing off the bed and walking out the door. She watched his backside until it vanished.

As soon as she heard the bungalow door open and close, she shot out of bed. Two steps and her phone vibrated. With a groan and eye roll, she dashed off a text to her publicist. Hopefully that would ease the woman’s fears about the tabloid scandal, because Tabbart wasn’t wasting another minute on the mess.

Last night’s clothes were scattered across the room and she dived for her jeans. After shimmying into them and her top, she began a search for her other shoe.

She located it under the bed, and she slid her foot into it with a glance at the clock on the nightstand.

She didn’t have long before Stowe returned.

Bursting out of the bungalow, she didn’t bother to look around at who might be up and about. She didn’t care—her mission was to get to the office.

With her head lowered and her feet flying over the thick emerald grass, she made her way to the building. She prayed someone was there who could help her.

“Howdy, little lady,” someone drawled.

She glanced up, then dropped her gaze immediately. “H-hi.” And watched her feet hit the sidewalk leading to the office.

Her nerves felt as though someone had plugged her into a wall outlet. She pushed into the office and wiped her sweaty hands on her thighs. God, she felt like a kid making her first speech in front of the class. She only had to speak to a single woman seated behind the desk. Why did that feel so difficult when she talked to hundreds of thousands of people through a TV camera daily?

She dragged in a deep breath, but the lady behind the desk cut her off.

“Ms. Tr— Um, please come in.” The young woman gave her a smile and stood, waving her toward a door in the back. Two men were inside, talking about the price of cattle at auction. They both looked up at Tabbart’s appearance, and her hands sweated more.

“Hi, I’m…well, you probably know who I am. I’ll get right to the point.”

“Where’s Stowe?” The huge man who’d helped her find a place to hide backstage the night of the demonstration stood from his chair. He towered over everything in the room.

“He’s getting a breakfast tray.”

The man’s eyes bulged. “You came here alone? In the daylight?”

“Yes. I don’t have much time. Look, I’m here to book a second week with Stowe.”

The female office worker sprang into action. She went into the front room and returned with two files. Then she grabbed a pen and began scribbling.

Tabbart met the huge cowboy’s stare. She raised her chin a notch. “You have my payment method on file. I’d appreciate if you use that again.”

“Are you sure you want a second week with that particular Boot Knocker? There are twenty-five.”

She’d only counted twenty on the website, but perhaps they’d added a few to their ranks. It didn’t matter. Out of a hundred men, she’d choose Stowe. She nodded.

“We can arrange that,” the lady said, holding out the pen and a file. “Sign here please and we’ll get you set up.”

“Does Stowe know what you’re doing?” The other man in the room stood slowly. His black hat shadowed his eyes, but she felt his gaze on her.

“No, he doesn’t.” Tabbart’s stomach pitched. It hadn’t occurred to her that he wouldn’t welcome her in his bed for a second week. She swallowed around a sudden lump in her throat.

“I’m sure he won’t mind. This is an unusual request, but we’re happy to make accommodations,” the woman said.

The man in the black hat gestured to the file and pen, but the enormous cowboy didn’t remove his gaze from Tabbart. She hesitated with her hand hovering over the pen.

“Go on and sign. I’ll walk you back to your bungalow,” Mr. Black Hat said.

Relief flooded her and she realized how exposed she really was right now. How she’d had the courage to walk alone to the office in broad daylight, she had no clue. She’d been fueled by a dark, burning need to stay with her cowboy.

She scribbled her name, taking far less care than she did with autographs. After all, she didn’t want her name to be legible on paperwork for another week on a sex ranch.

“Thank you.”

“C’mon.” The cowboy in black moved forward to take her arm. She ducked her head and went out into the sunlight with him, heart beating a wild tattoo. The ink was already dry—there was no going back. But what would Stowe say?

“I heard you’re already set for the upcoming week, man.” Quay nudged Stowe’s shoulder.

“Oh? I haven’t looked at next week’s files.” Stowe’s chest felt strangely tight, talking about the new batch of ladies about to flood the ranch. The idea felt very wrong.

Especially with the taste of Tabbart still on his tongue. He’d spent most of an hour licking her pussy after she awakened this morning. Feeling her shudder on his tongue was the best wake-up he could ask for.

Quay snapped his fingers in front of Stowe’s face. “Return to us, man. We need you here on the ranch.”

When Stowe glared at his friend, Quay laughed.

“Grapevine has it that your lady asked for a second week.”

He went dead still. Each muscle tightened as the synapses in his mind sparked. “What?”

“You didn’t know?”

“Tell me what you know.” It couldn’t be true. When would Tabbart have asked for another week? And how? He’d been with her almost constantly, and she wouldn’t have chanced going to the office on her own.

Would she?

He gripped Quay’s shoulder hard enough to bruise.

“Elliot said he saw her going into the office. When she came out, she was with Riggs. Then Hugh came out with Holly and they stood talking about it. Elliot said Hugh was shaking his head and looking pissed off, but Holly was smiling.”

Shit. This had to be rumor.

He released Quay’s shoulder and set the breakfast tray back on the stack. He’d fetch food for Tabbart later. He needed to talk to her—now.

He had no recollection of leaving the grub house or crossing the lawn to Bungalow 17. Until he mounted the short flight of steps leading to the door, he only heard Quay’s words echoing in his mind.

He shoved open the door and Tabbart was there. Gorgeous dark hair braided over one shoulder, eyes downcast in a display of pure submission. She had on last night’s clothes, and perspiration dotted her forehead and throat.

Mouth watering, he stepped forward and closed the door. “Look at me, Tabbart.”

She slowly let her gaze tick up to his.

The truth punched him square in the chest. “You did go to the office.”

Shock crossed her face. “You heard?”

“You were seen,” he growled, stalking up to her.

She backed away one step—two. Red mottled her cheeks, inviting visions of his marks on her ass after he spanked, whipped and paddled her.

“You weren’t careful. You’re playing with fire, Tabbart.”

She stared into his eyes, chin raised in that defiant way he was coming to adore. “I was quick.”

“But not careful.”

“You’re mad.”

“I’m upset that you might have compromised yourself.” He couldn’t keep her safe if she didn’t let him. “Why are you taking such risks?”

She opened her mouth and shut it again.

“You don’t know, do you?”

She shook her head, then raised her jaw a notch. “I’m just having fun. There’s no harm in that.”

“There is if your career is ruined for one impulsive move. Now what about you contracting me for another week?”

“You’re upset about it. Am I right?” She grew redder by the second. He closed the gap and stood inches away from her. Close enough to see the pulse flicker in her throat.

“Am I right, what?” His demand came out unbidden.

Her lips parted on a sigh. “Am I right, Master.”

With a rumble he sagged at the knees, locked his arms around her and yanked her off her feet. His mouth crashed over hers. He tasted relief and passion in her kiss as he carried her a few steps into the bedroom. After he kicked the door closed, he tore his mouth free.

“I couldn’t be happier, love. Now strip off your clothes and lie facedown. I’m going to punish you for going out.”

Her voice quavered as she reached for her shirt hem. “But I’m not being punished for wanting you another week?”

No, not that. God, no.

He lost himself in her stare for a long minute. “You know what you’re getting into, don’t you? I’ll expect more from you.”

“And I’ll give it, Master. I contacted my people. Nothing’s come of the tabloid story and I’m not taping again until next week. I’m staying with you. I want to.”

His cock throbbed. How was he going to live through another week with this gorgeous woman when he was already too damn deep?

“When will we know if the cows are pregnant?” Tabbart leaned against the fence. The warmth from the metal permeated her forearms. The sun was high, heating the top of her head through her cowgirl hat.

Stowe tapped the brim up and dipped at the knees to peer into her eyes. “One to three months.”

Her insides knotted. She’d be gone in a few days. Adding the second week had felt right at the time, but after nine days with her Aussie cowboy, she only wanted more. The thought of leaving made her stomach hollow.

Would they stay in touch? She couldn’t imagine talking to him on the phone. When would he have time, anyway? He’d be with other women.

She bit her lower lip. She was stupid to have asked for the second week.

Then he slid an arm around her waist and pulled her tight against his side, and she forgot her regret. It was good to be here. She’d deal with the aftermath of her heart when she got back to LA.

The cows nosed the meal Stowe had dumped into the trough, making noises as they did. She couldn’t suppress a laugh.

“They sound like my studio audience that time I made lamb and beef meatballs.”

“Mmm. No doubt. I could use a couple right now.”

She cast a look over her shoulder. “What’s in the picnic basket?”

He waggled his brows. “It’s awfully early for lunch, don’t you think? We only ate breakfast an hour ago.”

She groaned. “I know. I’m going to look huge on camera. I’ll need to go to a retreat to slim down after I leave here.”

His eyes were as hard as flint. “You’re far from heavy, Tabbart. I don’t want to hear you talk that way again.”

With a sharp intake of air, she processed his words. “Part of my life is looking good.”

“You’d look good with fifty more pounds on you, love.”

A flush climbed her body. “Thank you for saying that.” Maybe she was too focused on the world of celebrity fitness. Thin had become a way of life, and while she wasn’t a model’s size zero, she was on the smaller side of the spectrum. She wouldn’t be after a few more weeks of Cook’s picnic baskets, though.

“Tell me something.”

She looked up at his serious tone. “Anything.”

“While you’ve been here, you haven’t had a manicure or your makeup done. You aren’t wearing designer clothes. Do you miss any of that?”

She didn’t need time to think. She shook her head.

“So you’ve gotten back to your roots. Maybe it’s the balance you need, Tabbart.”

Leaning against the fence again, she watched the cows. What he said made sense. She lived, ate and slept her work and her show. She only did things to better herself for her show. Only went on vacations to get show ideas.

But here…she let go. She truly had found escape from work. And putting herself in Stowe’s hands was quite different from allowing a team of employees to take care of her on set.

“You’re right,” she said softly, resting her cheek against his chest.

“I know what you need.”

She shot him a look from under the brim of her hat. “Right now you know what I need?”

“Yes.” He turned her toward him, knuckling her hat off. It tumbled to the ground.

“What’s that?” Quivering with anticipation, she slid her arms around his neck, knocking off his hat the way he had hers.

He swooped in and kissed her. As his tongue melded with hers, she couldn’t hold back the sound in her throat. He angled his head, sinking his tongue deep into her mouth. She went on tiptoe, curling around him, wanting to be closer.

While he feasted on her, she ran her hands down his shoulders and sides to his waist. A flick of her fingers and his belt buckle was loosened.

His chuckle rumbled into her. “Not so fast.”

“I thought you knew what I needed.”

“I do, but that doesn’t mean I’ll give it.”

She sagged in his hold, and he burst out laughing. “You can’t withhold pleasure from me, Stowe. We don’t have very much time together.”

Something dark and primal passed over his features. “Do you understand why I do?”

“Trust. Giving my trust to you.”

He pushed out a sigh and wrapped her closer against him. Nuzzling her ear, he said, “You get it, love. You did from day one.”

She was getting braver. After her foray across the ranch to the office, Tabbart had seemed to stop caring about who would see her. Her throwing caution to the Texas breezes wasn’t a good thing, either.

“You want to what?” he asked again, sure he’d misunderstood. The whickers of the horses inside the barn must be too loud.

“I want to go to the hot tub today.”

“You know it’s not private.”

“I know.”

“I can draw you a very hot bath and turn on the jets. I might even fit in the bathtub with you.”

She shook her head, dark hair trailing across her collarbones in a way that maddened him. He wanted to lick whipped cream off them—again.

“I want to go, Stowe.” She had a tone of authority to her voice that he hadn’t heard since that day on her show.

He couldn’t stop himself from running his hands over the flare of her full hips. “A woman who knows her mind is very, very sexy.” He drawled the words until she shivered. “But I can’t allow you to jeopardize yourself. My answer is no, Tabbart.”