Unbridled (4 page)

As full darkness settled over the prairie, the long, dark highway stretched in front of her. The familiar road up State Road 751 led her to the foot of the Wind Mountains. They rose majestically in the distance, reminding her of just how small humans were, how tiny life was for those struggling to exist. Their big brothers, the Big Horn Mountains, awaited her on the final stretch of her journey.

Melancholy and introspective, Alex finally reached the city limits of Lobos, and as her car crossed the line, her entire body clenched. She didn’t know if it was fear, hesitation, frustration or exhaustion. The only thing she could think of was that she’d made it back home.

The town had changed, though not a considerable amount, since small Western towns never really did. There was the cineplex, still showing a mere two movies; Albertson’s Furniture store; the Methodist church—the only stone church within a hundred miles—and the town park. Aside from all that, there was a Holiday Inn with a bar, a shiny, well-lit gas station and even a brand-new town hall.

It was nearly eleven o’clock; she’d made terrific time flying across Interstate 15, and the lack of cops made it easy to do ninety in her muscle car. The deep purr of the engine echoed across the parking lot as she pulled into the Holiday Inn.

She was grateful for the bar since she highly doubted there was anyplace open to buy liquor. Alex needed a drink in the worst way. The hotel would give her an excuse to wait until morning to go to the ranch, the bar an excuse to forget why.

After checking in and ignoring the pimply faced desk clerk’s stare, she left her traveling bag in the room and headed back downstairs. The squeaky-clean lobby gave way to a small bar in the back of the hotel. The twang of country music greeted her as she stepped in and made a beeline for the booze.

It had been a long damn day, as if she’d spent the last twenty-four hours in Ebenezer Scrooge land—facing the ghosts of the past, present and future. She ordered a double bourbon and downed it a lot more quickly than she should have, but hell, she didn’t have to drive anywhere. What did it matter if she got a little tanked?

The second double slid down even more smoothly than the first, warming her from throat to stomach with the burn from the not-so-fancy hooch. Her head buzzed as the bourbon began to work on her, loosening her up more than she expected. Yep, this was exactly what she needed.

She tried to get up off the stool with her third drink, and slipped, spilling the booze on her hand. As she licked at her fingers, she realized someone was watching her. She looked up to find a cowboy, this one in his early thirties with green eyes and chocolate brown hair hidden beneath—what else—a Stetson. He had what was likely gin and tonic in his hand and was gazing at her in what could only be amusement.

Alex couldn’t muster up enough energy to get pissed at him. Instead she shrugged and continued licking the bourbon from her hand. His gaze changed from amused to heated as her tongue caught his attention.

There was no way Alex should be looking at him as a one-night stand. She’d just spent the night with Kent and Don, an unusual and highly emotional experience. She sure as hell didn’t need to pick up a stranger in a bar, even if he did look like a really good fuck.

“Something you find funny, cowboy?” She was amazed to realize she slurred. Two doubles and she was already hammered? It had been quite a while since she’d spent time slinging back drinks in a bar.

“No, not funny.” His voice was deep enough to be a DJ, a late-night one who would give his female listeners the hots. “Just wondered if you were okay.”

She managed not to fall off the stool when she nodded. “Just ducky. I needed a drink.”

“I can see that.” He sipped at his own, while his gaze kept returning to her lips. Obviously he was entertaining fantasies about her that involved her mouth and tongue. That was intriguing.

“Don’t judge me, cowboy. I’m tired and don’t have the energy to deal with anyone else’s opinion right now.” She took another healthy dose of bourbon and the world tilted to the right. “Oh shit.”

He caught her by the elbow before she landed on her ass. His hand was warm and strong on her skin. Alex smiled at him.

“Aren’t you the dashing knight? Rescuing me and all that.” She laughed like a hyena, snorting and guffawing. What the hell was wrong with her? Alex never lost control, and yet here she was, drunk in fifteen minutes or less at the Holiday Inn in East Bumfuck, Wyoming. If it wasn’t true enough to be pitiful, she might have cried.

“Do you have a room here, ma’am?”

“ ‘Ma’am’? Don’t call me that. Jesus Christ, I’m twenty-six, not eighty-six.” She leaned toward him, intrigued by the clean scent and the musky cologne he wore. “You smell good.”

He looked at the bartender. “Do you know where she belongs?”

The blonde behind the bar shook her head. “Never seen her before. Likely someone driving through town.”

“Oh, no, no, no.” Alex leaned into the man, pleased by the feel of his muscled chest and firm body. He was definitely in shape. “I belong here, I swear.” She laughed like a hyena again, recognizing the fact she really didn’t belong there. Not anymore.

Alex didn’t remember leaving the bar, but suddenly she was in the elevator. The stranger was carrying her, and she wondered if she was going to get lucky.

“Hey, I’m not that kind of girl, dude. I don’t fuck on the first date.” She giggled at her own joke. “I mean, not that we’re on a date, but, ah, hell, I don’t want to catch some kind of disease or anything like that.”

“Shut up, already. I’m not going to, ah, take advantage of you, ma’am. I’m just making sure you make it to your room all right.” He set her on her feet and pulled her key card from his pocket.

That was when she noticed he wore the same tight, faded Wranglers as every other cowboy, but damn, they fit him like a glove, outlining the nice package between his thighs. She could do worse than hopping into bed with a stranger with a cock like that.

Alex felt the world tilt beneath her feet, and then his strong arms were around her again. Her stomach lurched and it was all she could do not to puke all over him.

He pushed the door open and dragged her inside. Alex should be frightened by her stupid behavior, by ending up in her hotel room with a perfect stranger. She could get raped, beaten or worse. Yet all she could think about was that he smelled fucking awesome.

“Here you go, ma’am.” He led her to the bed and set her down on the edge, then got down on one knee to take off her shoes.

She pulled off his hat and ran her fingers through his hair. Soft as silk and full of dark curls. “Mmmm, that’s just the best hair I’ve ever felt on a man. What kind of product do you use on it?”

He ignored her and snatched his hat back, which he promptly slammed on his head. “I’m being a gentleman here, so please keep your hands to yourself.”

Alex snorted and fisted his shirt in her hands. “Kiss me, Galahad.”

 

 

Connor Matthews didn’t know what to make of the little spitfire. She tossed back the bourbon as if it were water, then almost passed out in the bar. If he hadn’t found the little cardboard sleeve with her room number on it, he might have had to leave her there. No doubt one of the randy assholes who frequented the bar might have taken advantage of her.

She had a haunted look in her blue eyes, one he sure as hell didn’t want to explore. The woman was walking trouble, and he wanted no part of it. But the gentleman in him had to make sure she was safe and sound in her room.

Then she kissed him, and he forgot exactly what it was he wasn’t going to do. Her lips were soft and firm at the same time, moving over his with ease. He tried to pull away even though his entire body reacted to the kiss, yet she held firm, surprisingly so, considering how drunk she was.

She opened her legs and lay back on the bed, pulling him on top of her. Damn, she was all curves and softness, except for her nipples, which were currently hard enough to cut glass. They rubbed at his chest, taunting him, even as she kissed him with surprising skill.

The woman was plastered, yet she still kissed like nobody’s business. Her sweet, wet tongue curled around his, sucking it into her mouth. Lips moved across lips as he forgot why he shouldn’t be kissing her and joined in fully.

Connor’s dick hardened until he thought he’d lose consciousness as all the blood rushed to the pulsing stick between his legs. Her legs were open in an inviting vee, and he nestled in there nice and snug.

Oh, but he shouldn’t be doing anything with this stranger he’d literally picked up in the bar. Yet she was perfect beneath him, the right combination of sexy and soft. She wiggled her hips, pushing her pussy against him as he groaned into her mouth.

With a giggle, she scratched at his ass. “Mmm, I like my cowboys hard and, damn, you are hard as steel.”

Connor didn’t want to be hard, but he couldn’t seem to help himself. The woman was wrapped around him like a vine, squeezing him, pulling him closer and closer. He sure as hell wasn’t a helpless victim, since his body didn’t seem to want to be let go. Obviously he outweighed her and could easily leave her there on the bed.

But he didn’t.

In fact, his hand crept up to her right breast, weighing the delicious roundness in his palm. Oh, but she was perfectly formed. Large enough to fill his hand, but not too big. He tweaked the nipple and she let out a kittenish moan.

“Oh, that’s good. Do it again.” She nipped at his earlobe, laving at the outside of his ear until shivers raced down his back.

Connor needed to stop, he had to stop, or he’d end up fucking a nameless woman at the Holiday Inn. But no matter what he told himself, he didn’t stop, and his dick roared to be let out, to find the wet pussy it scented.

He took a deep breath and told himself to get up. She was too damn drunk and he was still a gentleman. Connor pushed himself up to get off her when he realized she wasn’t squirming against him any longer. She’d passed out, for better or for worse. He hopped up and walked around the room for a few minutes, trying to remind himself why it was a blessing she’d actually lost consciousness.

None of it worked, of course. He had a hard-on that wasn’t going anywhere no matter how much he told it to. With a string of curses, he went into the bathroom, leaving it in darkness. Connor was embarrassed to admit he needed to jack off, desperately. The woman had whipped him into a sexual frenzy and he needed a release.

The night-light in the bathroom provided him enough illumination to find the toilet. As he pushed his jeans down, his dick sprang free and he breathed a sigh of relief. The fabric had been cutting off the circulation.

He closed his eyes as he sat down and grabbed his dick in a punishing grip. Imagining it was her hand, her stroking him, Connor pleasured himself in the bathroom of a stranger’s hotel room. He imagined her mouth, her tongue, her nimble fingers all over him, pulling him closer and closer. Her pillowy breasts would be against his chest, the nipples on his tongue. He came quickly, the orgasm sweeping through him with the power of a hammer strike.

Connor leaned his head against the wall and caught his breath, even as his dick grew soft in his hand. He cleaned up quickly and dressed, more in control, although he was mortified by what he’d just done.

He peeked into the room to find her still passed out on the bed. Thank God. He repositioned her boneless form until she was on the pillows. Connor contemplated making her more comfortable by stripping off her clothes. Not the best idea, considering how he’d already lost control of himself. In the end, he took off her fancy boots and pulled the blanket up over her. She snuggled into it, rolled over and started snoring.

She’d said she was twenty-six, and had the look of someone who’d had a few hard years in her life. He knew the look well—saw it in the mirror every day, as a matter of fact.

His civic duty done, he put the key on the dresser and left the room. If he was honest with himself, she wasn’t his type, but something about her made him react more strongly than he had with any other woman. He pushed the memory of arousal away with difficulty as he made his way back downstairs. When her lips had touched his, it had felt as though a lightning bolt had slammed into him.

Connor shook off the memory—he’d never see her again, so what difference did it make? In the morning, she’d be gone from Lobos and just a memory he could tuck away in the dusty corners. With luck, she’d never find out what he’d done in her bathroom.

After he made it back downstairs, he started to head back to the bar, then thought better of it. No need to have another drink; the mystery woman had given him a prime example of why he shouldn’t imbibe too much.

The night air had cooled enough that he could almost see his breath. As he walked to his truck, the image of the woman on the bed flitted through his memory. He didn’t know what it was about the brunette that stayed with him—perhaps it was her blue eyes. They were as haunted as his own.

A
lex woke up slowly. Her mouth tasted like old sweat socks and her head pounded as if some little creature were banging on her temple with a hammer. She was in a bed, fully clothed, thank God, and she smelled like bourbon.

She opened one eye and looked around. It was a hotel room, a generic one like many others. Her traveling bag was on the floor near the dresser, which meant this was her room. She lay there and listened to the sounds of the hotel around her. Fortunately, there was no one in her room with her.

Alex sat up like an old woman, groaning with the rush of blood to her head. She remembered getting to the hotel, had a vague recollection of checking in, then a much better recollection of the bar.

Oh shit. She’d started on bourbon; doubles if she wasn’t mistaken. There was a gorgeous green-eyed cowboy she’d flirted with, and then, nothing. She finally made it to the edge of the bed, where she held her head in her hands and tried not to run to the bathroom and vomit.