Cody

He needed a sure thing.

He started to turn away. But then she smiled and his hunger stirred, and he couldn’t help himself.

Cody Braddock had been a slave to his impulses far too long to stop now.

Chapter Two

HE WAS THE SEXIEST COWBOY she’d ever seen.

Which said a lot because Miranda Rivers had become quite the expert over the years.

Thanks entirely to her mother—part-time B is for Beautiful independent makeup consultant and full-time buckle bunny—Miranda had witnessed hundreds of Stetsons bobbing through the front door of the single wide trailer where she’d grown up. A parade that had continued as her two older sisters had matured and carried on their mother’s weakness for men with tight Wranglers, starched shirts and a wild and reckless charm.

It was a weakness that had eventually killed Chastity Rivers.

She’d fallen too hard, too fast, for a man who’d rejected her. She’d been so devastated that she’d killed herself and left her daughters to finish raising themselves.

Miranda had been fourteen at the time.

Lucy and Robin had been older, sixteen and nineteen, but it had been Miranda who’d stepped up to take the lead in the family. She’d cleaned the house and cooked dinner while her sisters had strutted their stuff, stayed out all night and stirred up as much gossip as possible.

Time had changed little. Lucy worked at a nearby bar and partied away her earnings while Robin played groupie to a local country band.

They were still the baddest girls in town.

They always had been, and Miranda had been guilty by association.

The entire school had started calling her Restroom Randy back during her sophomore year. A nickname she’d been given when Ray McGuire—junior calf roper and the first cowboy to ever catch her eye—had started a running list on the boy’s bathroom wall of all the places Miranda Rivers had gotten down and dirty.

Restroom Randy’s Hottest Sex Spots.

All lies, of course. He’d been pissed because she’d turned him down in the backseat of his Daddy’s Chevy and he’d wanted to get back at her. He’d started the list, claiming they’d gone all the way not only in the Chevy, but in the front loader of his John Deere, the back alley behind the Piggly Wiggly, the gazebo in the middle of town square, the men’s restroom at the local drive-in, beneath the bleachers at the football stadium, smack dab in the middle of the local rodeo arena and the front porch of his family’s home.

Miranda had seen the list only once. She’d been sixteen and desperate to know why the entire school was snickering behind her back. A quick duck into the boy’s john and she’d found out. The various locations written in red marker had branded themselves into her brain. She’d been mortified and determined to lose the Restroom Randy image.

She’d hated being one of those girls. Trashy. No good. An outsider. She’d wanted to fit in. To feel accepted. To feel safe.

She’d never had any security growing up. Nothing that she could count on. Sometimes she’d had lunch at school. Sometimes she hadn’t. Sometimes her mother had been home at night. Sometimes she hadn’t. Sometimes she’d had her sisters to keep her company. Sometimes they’d been too busy to care. It had been a roller-coaster ride, and Miranda had wanted off.

She’d wanted a smooth, calm carousel tour and so she’d spent her time studying rather than socializing, determined to trade her unstable existence for something solid. She’d graduated at the top of her class and worked her way through college to earn a sociology degree.

She’d been the activities coordinator at the Skull Creek Senior Center for eight years now. A volunteer at the local library for six. She baked cookies for the ladies auxiliary once a month and chaired an annual fundraising committee for the local food bank. She did her best to steer clear of her sisters and surround herself with people she could count on—the old folks at the senior center and the few people around town who didn’t hold her past against her. Since Robin spent most of her time on the road and Lucy only showed up when she wanted money, keeping her distance was relatively easy. Even more, Miranda only dated the kind of men that a woman could count on—nice, conservative, professional types who didn’t know the first thing about roping a cow or riding a horse or getting down and dirty in a hayloft.

She’d finally found stability, but she was still missing one thing.

Acceptance.

It was close. Her boyfriend of three months had finally proposed to her via e-mail before he’d left yesterday for a seminar in Houston.

It hadn’t been the most exciting proposal, but then Greg wasn’t the most exciting guy. He wore khakis and white button-down shirts and, as owner of a local dry cleaning chain, spent his days neck-deep in spot cleaner and starch. He was practical. Nice. Safe.

He was also well-respected. His father had been the mayor once-upon-a-time and Greg himself served as president of the local chamber of commerce.

When Greg walked into the Piggly Wiggly, the female clerks didn’t stare daggers at him and the stock boys didn’t leer. When he waved at old Mr. Witherspoon, the man actually nodded instead of spitting a stream of tobacco juice at his shoe.

Miranda wanted the same acceptance. Or, at the very least, civility. Marrying Greg would give her that.

So why haven’t you given him an answer yet?

Because. It was a big step. One she didn’t feel comfortable taking via the Internet. She wanted to tell him in person. She would tell him. He was a good man from a good family and she was definitely marrying him. Even if he wasn’t that great in bed.

Sex wasn’t everything.

She knew that.

At the same time, she couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to have an orgasm with an actual man rather than a battery-operated body part.

Buck was the heavy-duty vibrator she’d purchased for her twenty-first birthday. Instead of hitting the local honky tonk to celebrate—Lucy’s idea—she’d opted to stay home with a frozen pizza and a Bonanza marathon. A few episodes featuring Little Joe and she’d had her first case of horny.

Not that she’d inherited her mother’s crippling weakness for cowboys.

There was a big difference between an addiction and mild infatuation. Infatuation brought on by an extreme case of denial. She’d developed a No Cowboy policy early on and so it only made sense that she’d started fantasizing about the one thing she could never have. A tall, dark man in a Stetson. Touching her. Kissing her. Giving her a delicious, toe-curling orgasm. She’d wondered every now and then what it would feel like, a curiosity that had killed any and all chances of having a bonafide O with any of the men she’d dated. Three to be exact, including Greg.

They hadn’t been wild enough, or exciting enough, or cowboy enough.

No big deal. Miranda had wanted more than an orgasm. She’d wanted respect, and so she’d settled for Buck and her Bonanza DVDs.

Until last night.

The proposal had served as a wake-up call. A reminder that time was precious and it was slipping away fast. In two weeks, she would accept Greg’s offer and then they were getting married.

From this day forward.

‘Til death do us part.

It was now or never.

Which was why she’d abandoned her party planning for the annual Sock-Hop scheduled next week at the Senior Center, to pull out her hot pink boots—a high school graduation present from her oldest sister Robin—and make the long drive to Austin. For this one night, she was going to lose her inhibitions and be Restroom Randy.

Cowboy up!

Her gaze zeroed in on the jeans-clad legs striding toward her. Her attention took a slow walk up, over muscular thighs and an impressive crotch, a trim waist and solid torso, broad shoulders and a corded neck, to his face.

Several days’ growth of stubble shadowed his jaw and circled his sensuous mouth. A thin scar zig-zagged its way across one cheek, but it didn’t detract from his looks. If anything, it made him seem more rugged and sexy. Dark hair framed his face and brushed the collar of his shirt. Striking silver eyes fringed in thick black lashes peered at her from beneath the brim of his Stetson.

There was nothing respectable about the molten gleam in his gaze. Heat radiated off his body, pushing and pulling at her, luring her closer when every warning bell in her body clamored for her to turn and run. His lips crooked in the faintest grin that said he knew all of her secrets and he wanted her in spite of them.

Because of them.

Her nipples tightened and her legs quivered and she felt the wetness between her thighs.

He stopped a few inches away. His gaze stripped her bare and a ripple of awareness went up her spine. She’d felt naked back at home when she’d slipped on the skimpy clothes, but it was nothing compared to what she felt now.

Naked. Vulnerable. Hungry.

The last thought struck and a bolt of heat sizzled through her. The chemistry was more potent than anything she’d ever felt, but there was something more, as well. A strange connection that said the attraction went much deeper than the physical.

She stiffened against the ridiculous notion and ignored the endless questions swimming in her head.

What’s your name?

What do you do?

Where are you from?

Are you the real deal?

He was. He wore an air of danger and wildness as comfortably as he wore his form-fitting jeans.

“You can always tell by the boots,” her mother had said time and time again.

Her gaze dropped to the worn toes of a pair of black snakeskin Ropers. Scuffed. Dusty. Lived in. An electrical pulse vibrated along her nerve endings.

“I won them at the Houston Livestock Show and Rodeo.”

Her gaze swiveled back up and collided with his. “Excuse me?”

“The boots. I took first place last year in Houston. They were part of the prize. The name’s Cody Braddock. I’m a bull rider.”

He was a bona fide cowboy, all right.

The last man she would ever take to the Senior Sock Hop. Or the weekly church picnic. Or the Veterans of Foreign Wars Bunko night. Or the Chamber of Commerce Christmas party. Or anything in the tiny town of Skull Creek where she’d spent the past ten years trying to outrun her Restroom Randy reputation.

Which made him the perfect man to take to bed right now.

“Why don’t we get out of here?” she blurted before she did something really stupid. Like ask him which bull he’d been riding and how long he’d been risking his neck and where he’d been all her life.

One orgasm, she reminded herself. Then the damned curiosity that kept her tossing and turning and fantasizing at night—every night—would be satisfied. She would say yes to Greg and abandon her legacy for good.

“That is, if you’re not married,” she added. “You aren’t married, are you?”

“No.”

“You’re sure?”

His grin was slow and wicked and her heart stopped for the next few beats. “That’s not something that a man forgets, is it?”

“That depends on the man.”

His grin faded. “I’m not the marrying kind. Never have been, never will be.”

“How about the one-night-stand kind?”

“Is that what you’re after?”

“Actually, an hour or so should do it.”

His gaze seemed to liquefy, like silver melting and heating. “You don’t want me to buy you a drink first?”

“I’m not much of a drinker.” Her gaze caught and held his and she ignored the sizzle of apprehension that went through her. The small voice that whispered she was about to make a huge, huge mistake because one taste wouldn’t come close to satisfying her craving and killing her curiosity.

Instead, she focused on the heat simmering in her belly and the tightening between her legs. “So what about it? You interested in a little exercise?”

His mouth drew into a thin line and his brow furrowed, and she had the distinct impression that he was going to turn her down even though he’d been the one to approach her.

Disappointment rushed through her, followed by a burst of anxiety that fed her impatience. She hadn’t driven the two hours from Skull Creek to make sure she didn’t run into someone from home just to turn around and head back minus a real climax. She was on a mission. Now or never, a voice whispered.

Now.

Please.

The plea echoed through her head, but she managed to keep it to herself. She’d seen her mother beg and plead too many times the morning after, and every time, Mr. Cowboy had always walked away.

She wouldn’t subject herself to the same humiliation. If this particular cowboy didn’t want her, so be it. No way was she getting hung up on any one man. She would simply move on to the next one in line.

Maybe the guy sitting at the far end of the bar.

She’d scoped him out earlier when she’d first arrived, but she hadn’t had a chance to talk to him. With polished gray boots, he looked more drugstore than the real deal. But at least he wore a Stetson, his jeans and shirt starched within an inch of their life. While he wasn’t her first choice, he would do—

“Let’s go.” Cody’s deep, husky voice shattered her thoughts and drew her attention. Her gaze collided with his and she had the distinct impression he knew exactly what she’d been thinking.

And that he didn’t like it one little bit.

Before she could dwell on the crazy notion, his large hand cupped her elbow and steered her around. He had the oddest touch. His fingers weren’t hot like most men. But they weren’t clammy either. They felt…strong. Purposeful. Determined.

A zing of excitement spiraled through her. Her nipples throbbed. Her thighs shivered.

And then they headed for the nearest exit and what was sure to be the hottest, wildest, most dangerous experience of Miranda’s life.

Chapter Three

YEARS OF BULL RIDING had finally shaken some screws loose.

That was the only explanation for the fact that Cody had just accepted Miranda’s offer and told her his real name.

“The name’s Cody Braddock.”

Sweet Jesus. Was he completely nuts?

Hungry, he reminded himself. He was starved and so he wasn’t thinking straight. That explained why he was now leading Miranda outside, through the back parking lot toward his truck when his common sense screamed otherwise.

That, and he’d always been impulsive. A loose cannon. A wild card. That’s what made him so good on the back of a bull. He didn’t waste his time thinking. He simply acted.

No way did his sudden change of heart have anything to do with the fact that he wanted to keep her from propositioning any other man. Particularly the asshole at the end of the bar. The guy had a wife at home that he liked to use for a punching bag.

Not that Cody gave a rat’s ass if Miranda got mixed up with a character like that. Hell, he didn’t know her from Eve.

It was the hunger, all right.

It clouded his judgment as darkly as it shaded his past.

He tried to tune into the sounds around him. The music drifting from the row of clubs along Sixth Street. The footsteps up and down the nearby sidewalk. The whir of passing traffic and occasional bleep of a horn. But he found himself picking up only her. The steady beat of her heart and the faint in and out of her breaths and the excited flutter of her pulse.

“Stop.” Her soft voice pushed inside his head and he turned just as she dug her heels into the asphalt and pulled him to a stop.

“I thought you wanted to get out of here.” His gaze collided with hers and he read the doubt that rolled through her. Half of her wanted to turn and run. Before she did something she would surely regret.

At the same time, that’s what this moment was all about. Doing something completely and totally opposite of what she usually did. A few moments of fierce and naughty and memorable to see her through the years and years of nothing special that she knew waited in the future.

“Out of there.” Determination fired her gaze as she glanced around the parking lot. “Here is just fine.” And then she leaned up on her tip-toes and pressed her lips to his.

The sudden connection sent a jolt through him. His muscles stiffened and his groin throbbed and he quickly took the lead.

His hands slid around her waist and he pulled her flush against him. He plunged his fingers into her hair and tilted her head back to give himself better access.

She tasted like the sweetest wine and the most decadent sin and he couldn’t get enough. He wanted to be inside of her, his cock deep between her legs, his mouth locked on hers.

He wanted it so badly that he nearly pushed her up against a nearby car, shoved her skirt up to her waist and took her right then and there. But she had something else cooked up in her fantasies—a small alley near the rear Exit door—and Cody was all about pleasing his partner.

Especially this one.

Before he could dwell on the outrageous thought, she rubbed her pelvis against his crotch and electricity zapped the head of his penis. The sensation sizzled through him and gripped every nerve ending until his entire body buzzed.

In the blink of an eye, he picked her up and headed for the narrow alley that ran between the club and a neighboring building.

Her eyes went suddenly wide a heartbeat later when she realized they were standing between the two buildings. “How did you move so fast—” she started, but he silenced her with his mouth.

His lips plundered hers, his tongue pushing deep to stroke and explore and leave her breathless. He pressed her up against the brick so that she could feel the pulse of the music from inside. The excitement. And then he leaned into her, his body flush against hers, so that she could feel his excitement.

Emotion rolled through her, a mix of wonder and fear and hurry the hell up.

“Anyone could walk by,” he murmured, feeding her impatience and the dangerous thrill of being caught.

That’s why she had no intention of following him back to his hotel room or taking him home with her. She wanted to live on the edge a little while before she plunged over. She needed it. She’d denied herself for so long and now she wanted to experience the forbidden just once.

The information glittered hot and bright in her gaze as she stared back at him for those next few seconds.

She was through relying on her imagination. She wanted to live up to her reputation. Right here. Right now. Despite the fact that she was hours from home with a man she didn’t know.

Because of it.

She didn’t want any strings any more than he did.

The truth bothered him a hell of a lot more than it should have and Cody stiffened.

He ignored the strange tightening in his chest and focused on the only thing that mattered—pleasuring her. It was her pleasure—her climax—that would feed the beast inside of him.

He caught the neckline of her skimpy top and pushed it down to her waist. Her luscious breasts spilled free. Dipping his head, he caught one rosy nipple between his teeth. He flicked the tip with his tongue before opening his mouth wider. He drew her in and sucked until a moan vibrated up her throat. The sound fed the lust roaring in his veins.

He knew even before he caught the hem of her skirt and felt the bare skin beneath that she wasn’t wearing any panties. Pressing one hard thigh between her legs, he forced her wider until she rode him. Her sweet heat rasped against his starched denim.

She gasped and a shudder ripped through her. He leaned back to see her trembling lips and her quivering breasts.

Shock and surprise swam in her smoky gaze. She’d had sex before, but nothing had ever felt like this. So intense and thrilling and ahhhhh…

Her pulse beat frantically at the base of her throat, teasing and taunting him. A slow hiss slid past his lips.

He shifted, moving and rubbing, working her until he felt her dampness through the rough fabric of his jeans. The scent of her arousal teased his nostrils and drenched his senses.

He caught her lips in a fierce kiss and plunged his hand between her legs. She was warm and wet and swollen. At the first touch of his fingers, she went ramrod stiff. A small cry ripped past her lips and just like that, she came apart in his arms.

A sizzling heat pulsed through her body and entered him at every point of contact—his hand between her legs, his mouth on hers, his thigh pressed intimately between hers. He drank in the sweet energy, relished the dizzying rush of life.

But it wasn’t enough because he wasn’t hilt deep inside of her.

Yet.

He drank in the picture she made, her head thrown back against the building, her eyes closed, her lips parted and trembling. She grasped at his shoulders as the convulsions ripped through her, feeding him yet making him all the more hungry at the same time.

His vision clouded, going from Technicolor to a bright, vivid purple that washed everything. The pale color of her hair and the smooth column of her throat. Her translucent breasts. The clothes riding her waist.

He fought the growl vibrating up his throat and the sharp graze of his teeth against his tongue. If he bit her, there would be no turning his back or leaving her behind. The connection would be forged.

Strong.

Resilient.

Unbreakable.

“More,” she gasped, her eyelids fluttering open.

Before she could focus and see the beast that he knew gleamed in his eyes, he whirled her around and urged her hands flat against the brick.

Her sweet, round ass pushed back against him and he flicked open the button on his jeans. The zipper wasn’t nearly as cooperative. Metal strained and popped and the teeth broke. The denim sagged on his hips and he shoved his underwear down so fast that the material ripped. His erection sprang forward, hard and greedy. The ripe head of his cock pressed the slick folds between her legs and she shuddered.

“Wait,” Miranda managed, the feel of him poised and ready like a lightning bolt to her sanity. She drew a deep breath to steady her rapid heartbeat and remember that while she’d made up her mind to let go of her inhibitions and satisfy her curiosity, she wasn’t kissing caution goodbye.

Her mother had made that mistake.

Three times to be exact.

“We need a condom,” she breathed. “I—I brought some with me.” She motioned to her purse which lay on the ground near her feet. “In there.”

“I’ve got my own, sugar.”

Of course he did. This might be her first time doing something like this, but it obviously wasn’t his.

The realization stirred a strange sense of regret. One that quickly drowned in a wave of heat as he retrieved a small packet, ripped it open and worked the latex down his engorged length. She felt the brush of knuckles against her backside as he positioned himself. His thick head nudged apart her slick folds and pressed into her.

She closed her eyes and relished the feel of him pushing inside, stretching and filling her inch by decadent inch.

Slowly.

Slowly.

There.

He stopped, buried completely for a long moment, the pressure so sharp and sweet that her breath caught. Her heart paused. He throbbed and her body contracted. A wave of impatience went through her, making her nipples ache and her legs tremble.

She moved then, arching her back and sucking him deeper, begging for more of the ecstasy she’d tasted only moments before. She was almost there. So close that she could feel the heat licking at her skin.