Colorado Cowboy - Includes a bonus novella

by Sara Richardson

  The photographer gasped when Crew was back in front of the lens, and this time the “oh my” was breathless and slightly stunned. I had to agree. Crew Lawton was impressive, but cloaked in his familiar garb, he was irresistible. It was easy to forget the car he was leaning on cost close to half a million dollars.

  “The hat was a good call, Della. These are going to be extraordinary.”

  This time my sigh was audible. “He’s extraordinary.”

  The photographer chuckled. “Not going to argue with you over that.” He dropped the camera and clapped his hands together, declaring the shoot a wrap.

  Crew made sure to thank everyone, then spent an extra minute scratching the horse’s muzzle and exchanging pleasantries with his handler. By the time he made his way over to where I was waiting, we were the last two people in the studio. He still had his mix of designer duds and western wear on, and his hat was still hiding his normally brilliant gaze.

  “That wasn’t nearly as bad as I expected it to be. I didn’t feel like a bull at auction at all.” It was a joke I wasn’t entirely sure I understood, but I gave him a reassuring smile anyway.

  I dug around in the Louis Vuitton tote hanging off the crook of my arm and fished out his check. I didn’t ask why he didn’t want the amount wired directly into his bank account but figured it had something to do with the contract amendments he’d made after learning about the deal his former manager had made on his behalf.

  He looked at the envelope I held out to him like it might bite him. A muscle twitched in his jaw and his entire body stiffened in front of me. I pushed the paper at him and let out a little laugh. “Go on, take it. You’ve earned it. You did a great job. This campaign is going to do amazing things, and it’s all because of you. You get the final payment once the product line launches and we go full steam ahead with the media blitz. You’ll be required to do a public appearance here or there, but nothing that will interfere with your rodeo schedule once that starts back up.”

  Mentioning his return to his regularly scheduled life was a stark reminder how different our lives were. His was filled with dust and dirt. Mine with gray concrete and skyscrapers. We were so far apart from one another logistically. It made my wanting to reach out and touch him, to hold him close, seem silly. Even if I couldn’t stop thinking about the kiss. Even if I wanted another one so badly I could taste it.

  I thumped the check against his chest until he took it. With a lifted eyebrow I teased, “If you can convince some of your cowboy buddies to try the stuff I’m selling that would be even better. I think my dad would have a heart attack if we could officially become the product line of the Professional Bull Riders.”

  Crew let out a snort and stared at the check in his hand for a long, quiet moment. “PBR is bulls; I ride broncs, so that might be a hard sell. I don’t know that most of those guys use any kind of product other than deodorant, but I can try to show them the error of their ways. That is, if I manage to qualify for any of the big rides this next season. I fucked up a lot at the end of this year. I lost most of my major sponsors. I’m not exactly sure where I stand in the sport right now. I sort of took off with you before facing the fallout of the end of my season. That’s what I do. Make a mess and leave other people to clean it up for me.”

  I put a hand on his shoulder, muscle flexing enticingly under my touch. “There is always time to work on being less messy. Just like there is time to appreciate that being less orderly won’t necessarily bring about the end of the world. Everyone has to find a balance, Crew.”

  He used a finger to push the brim of his hat back, and my insides fluttered at the motion. I never thought I would be the kind of girl who was turned on by something as simple as a hat tilt. But here I was, heart thumping, knees going weak, tummy twisting, and my mouth turning dry because even the simplest gesture from him was more of a turn-on than the most practiced moves from the men I typically dated. He had also proven to be more steadfast, harder working, and more committed to giving me exactly what I asked him for than I could have imagined. He was setting out to prove himself as reliable and worthy of carrying my dream on his back, exactly like he’d told me he was going to. I was impressed and not shy about showing him I appreciated all of his hard work and dedication.

  “Balance is something I’ve never had. I’ve always been an all-or-nothing kind of guy. It’s gotten me into a lot of trouble.” He held up the check and grasped one of my hands. “This could get me in a lot of trouble. I need this money, Della. I need to do the right thing with it, but already I can feel the wrong thing burning under my skin and making me itch. Temptation is an ugly drug. It’s my one habit I haven’t managed to kick free of. I want to do the right thing so badly I can taste it, but I know there’s a really good chance I’m going to do the wrong thing anyway.” He sounded scared and almost desperate. His eyes were wide, pools of blue agony, and I was drowning with each word that rushed out of him. “Promise me something, Ms. Priss.”

  I blinked and nodded reflexively. “Okay.”

  A look of surprise crossed his face, only to melt into a soul-stealing smile that had my entire body heating up and leaning toward him.

  “You don’t want to know what you’re getting yourself into before you offer up something you might not be willing to part with?” There was a warning there in his tone, but I was going to ignore it.

  “You held up your end of the bargain we made, Crew. You made my dream into a reality, made it better than I hoped. Even if the product line flops, you helped bring my vision to life and helped me prove the idea was valid. I owe you.” Plus, I kind of loved the idea of him needing me for something, since our entire acquaintance had been based on me needing him.

  No one ever really needed me for anything. My father proved that to me time and time again, as did the men I tended to date. I liked the notion that someone like Crew Lawton could actually need someone like me.

  The paper in his hand crumpled as he made a fist. His eyes practically glowed as they locked onto me and his voice was soft and serious, seemingly torn between anger and remorse as he practically begged, “Then don’t leave me alone, Della. Don’t let me out of your sight until I’m on that plane leaving New York tomorrow. Don’t give me a chance to spend this money and screw up again. Keep me with you and make me do the right thing.”

  I gulped and tried not to shiver as he moved his hand to my waist and pulled me to him so my body was flush with his. It was a heady experience having all his hard pressed against all of my soft. He was so overwhelming, so all-consuming. I let my Louis drop to the floor without a second thought. The man was potent and went to my head far too fast for my own good. I couldn’t help but stare at that clever, talented mouth as his lips moved, saying something I should have expected but was still shocked to hear.

  “Spend the night with me, Ms. Priss. I need you.”

  I couldn’t reply if I wanted to. I seemed to have forgotten how to speak. The “no” I knew I should say was trapped somewhere in my throat, along with every single reason why staying with this man was a bad idea.

  Good thing my body knew exactly what it wanted. I nodded at him, agreeing to whatever he was asking, because somewhere deep inside of me, I knew I needed him, needed this, just as badly as he did.

  Chapter 8

  Crew

  There was a beautiful woman in my hotel room. She was watching me with a mixture of fear and anticipation. It wasn’t anything new. I’d been here many times before—it should be familiar, practiced; it should be easy. But nothing about this situation, or the woman who kept surprising me at every turn, was easy.

  My hands were shaky. There was a trickle of cold sweat rolling down my spine, and there was a buzz under my skin that I was having a difficult time ignoring. I tried to convince myself it was because of the sweet-smelling blonde who had been on my mind nonstop since she invaded my life. Sadly, I was self-aware enough to know the reason I was so on edge was because of the money that might as well be burning a hole in m
y pocket. For being such a thin piece of paper, the damn thing felt like it was made of lead, weighing me down with every step, and the worst part was, I knew if I wasn’t careful, one slip could drag Della down with me. She was the best thing that had happened to me in a long time. I liked the man she inspired me to be. I appreciated that I had to be at the top of my game in order to be even slightly worthy of her time and attention. I wasn’t sure I’d ever worked as hard at anything as I had at trying to show her she could count on me this last week.

  I flicked the lights on as I moved deeper into the room. I took my hat off and tossed it carelessly onto the big bed. I was back in my regular clothes, face and hair scrubbed down. I was back to being me in every way. My hands found my hair and pulled. However, the tiny sting of pain did little to distract me from the temptation of either the woman behind me or the paycheck and bad choices that were calling my name.

  “Would you like me to order room service? Or we can raid the minibar.” I glanced over my shoulder in Della’s direction, expecting her to look nervous or apprehensive, but instead, her head was tilted to the side, curiosity alight in her multihued gaze.

  “I’m fine.” Since she’d been in the room several times before, she stepped around me and made herself at home on the settee. It was my favorite place in the room, even more so now that Della was draped over it, looking like a spread in one of the magazines she was determined to get my face in. At no point in my life did I ever think I deserved to have someone like her looking out for me, caring about what happened to me. She was so out of my league, so above the dirt and dust I always seemed to find myself rolling around in. I knew if I put my hands on her I was going to get her dirty in a way that wouldn’t simply wash off. For once, the idea of leaving my mark behind like a stain didn’t sit well with me. I created chaos and destruction and walked away from the wreckage. This time there would be no turning a blind eye to the outcome. I would carry the aftermath of whatever happened between me and Della Deveaux for a long time to come.

  Della cleared her throat delicately and crossed her legs. One of those sexy shoes she was never without swung back and forth, and I found myself mesmerized by the motion. My tongue suddenly felt too big for my mouth, and for the first time since she handed it over, my attention was on something other than the check and all the damage I could do with it in a city like New York.

  “I don’t suppose you want to enlighten me as to why you need a babysitter tonight?” Her tone was kind, but her eyes were questioning, and I hated it.

  So far I’d impressed her. The last thing I wanted was for her to see the real me. I grunted and flopped down on the edge of the bed. I stared up at the ceiling, lacing my hands together over my stomach.

  “Do you have any bad habits, Ms. Priss? Is there anything out there that fires you up, gets you excited, makes you feel alive?” I heard the wistful quality of my own voice, and it made me cringe. My father had always insisted I was the weakest of his kids, I was too soft. I’d learned long ago to let his opinions roll off my back; after all, the man was a crook and a bully. But hearing the longing in my tone for something that almost got me killed, ruined my career, and threatened my family, I found myself wondering if he was right.

  Della made a humming noise, and I closed my eyes, imagining her making it against my skin while I was buried deep inside of her. Just like that, the check wasn’t the only thing hot and heavy in my pants. My cock throbbed as most of the blood in my body pooled low in my gut and groin. I shifted in what I hoped was a subtle way.

  “No, I don’t think I do, unless you count consistently trying to make relationships work with men who are just like my father. I can’t seem to quit trying to find affection and acceptance from people who don’t know the first thing about caring for someone other than themselves.” She let out a breathy sigh, and I heard her shifting around on the seat by the window. “If that’s a bad habit, it’s one I would really like to break. I’d like a chance to finally be happy.”

  Her words made my gut clench and forced my hands into fists. She deserved to be happy. She was a tad high-maintenance (okay, more than a tad), and a bit prickly, but she was kind and forgiving. She was so much more than most of the people who drifted in and out of my life like tumbleweeds.

  “I have too many bad habits to count. I drink too much. I like women too much. I can’t turn down a challenge or a dare, so I end up taking too many risks. I don’t take anything seriously, even the things I know I should. Other people end up getting hurt because of me. When I was younger, those things made me dangerous and sexy. Now, they make me pathetic and worthless. Most people grow out of their rebellious phase. Me, I’ve been stuck in mine for so long I don’t know any other way to be.” I blew out an aggravated breath and forced my hands to relax because my knuckles were turning white under the pressure. “I don’t know if I can tell you what I’m rebelling against anymore. My father? The fact I’m always in my older brother’s shadow? Small-town perceptions? I’ve lost sight of whatever it was I thought I was trying to prove forever ago.” And wasn’t that pathetic? I was a grown man with no other purpose than to screw things up.

  The bed suddenly dipped, and I heard the slither of her silky stockings against the comforter. Her fingers were cool when they ghosted over my face. She traced the arch of my eyebrow and brushed her fingertips over the rise of my cheek. I opened my mouth when her thumb touched my bottom lip. I exhaled and watched as she leaned over me, her sunny hair falling around her face. There was a furrow between her eyebrows, but she had a faint smile playing around her mouth. Her usually artfully painted lips were bare, but they were still a pretty pink. They looked like they were made to be bitten and sucked on.

  “I never had a rebellious phase. The most defiant thing I’ve ever done is fly to Texas so I could convince you to let me change everything about you, and that didn’t even turn out the way I expected. Maybe we can help each other out, teach each other a few things. I’ve always been driven, focused on doing more and being better than everyone else. I can help you figure out something new, something good to care about, to be invested in, and you can show me what it’s like to break the rules and throw caution to the wind.” Della’s voice had lost some of the polish I’d come to associate with it. I liked the rasp, the slight waver. It made my dick harder than it already was, and had my heart thudding loud between my ears.

  I reached up so I could push some of her hair behind her ear. I wanted to see her eyes, to see if she was saying what I thought she was saying. It was there in the threads of gold shot throughout. She wanted to take more of a risk on me than she already had.

  “Della.” I lifted my hands and cupped her beautiful face between them. It was like putting my hands on an ancient work of art. I had no right to touch her, to want her the way I did. “I’m a bad bet. The worst, actually.”

  “Hmm…” Her thumb moved over my lip again, and her head started to lower. My breath caught, and something inside my chest started to flicker with heat, sending warmth shooting throughout my body. “Since I’ve never even thought about rolling the dice before, I probably have a whole lot of beginner’s luck on my side.”

  If she wanted to blow her luck on me, who was I to argue? Because didn’t that make me the luckiest bastard who ever lived?

  “In my world, it’s always better to be lucky than it is to be good.” I winked up at her, which made her laugh. She was stunning when she forgot to be so serious and reserved.

  I barely had to apply any pressure to get her to lower her mouth to mine. Our lips crashed together, breath mingling, teeth clicking, tongues tangling. We went up in flames in the first second. She went to my head so fast, I felt like I’d chugged a bottle of whiskey. The world narrowed to the feel of her slender body pressed against mine, and the only sound I could hear was the rasp of silk dragging across denim as she stretched over me, one hand braced on the bed above my head as her chest pressed into mine. I could feel the way her pointed nipples poked eagerly against my chest. O
ne of her long legs worked its way between mine, and my hands automatically shifted to the back of her thighs. Her skirt had ridden up when she maneuvered herself over me and my brain short-circuited for a minute when I encountered bare skin above a complicated garter belt. I was no lingerie aficionado, but I knew this wasn’t run-of-the-mill. This was special, just like she was.

  Her mouth slid across mine, wet, seeking. Her free hand skated over my chest, a finger stopping to cover where it felt like my heart was trying to kick its way out of my chest. I felt the bite of her teeth against my bottom lip as she lowered herself and pressed into the steadily growing bulge between my legs. She was shockingly bold. There wasn’t a hint of the chill that usually surrounded her. She was molten heat in my hands, and I ordered my excited body to behave. She was so damn responsive, it would be easy to get carried away. I wasn’t stupid enough to believe we were ever going to have this one night, this single moment, ever again, and I didn’t want it to be over before it started. I wanted to savor her. I wanted to get lost in the sensations she had churning inside of me. There was a familiar rush scorching through my blood. The only other time I felt that particular burn was when I was on the back of a horse doing my best not to be thrown off.

  “You sure about this, Ms. Priss?” I didn’t recognize the man trying to talk a beautiful woman out of sleeping with him for her own good, but here he was.

  Della smiled down at me, a real smile. One that softened her face and made her eyes glitter with a lightness she didn’t normally possess. A pang of longing shot through me. If I were a different kind of man, I could promise myself I would give her more reasons to smile, but the reality was we only had tonight.

  Instead of answering me, her palm slid across the front of my jeans, fingers exploring the rigid length trapped behind the denim. I bit back a groan, her touch lighter and more careful than I was used to. She moved against me like I mattered. She touched me like she cared. I threaded my fingers through her hair, my thumb stroking over her temple and my hip involuntarily lifting to follow her hands as her fingers found the button on my jeans. I wanted skin on skin, her legs wrapped around me. I wanted to know how she tasted everywhere, and how my name sounded when she came apart under my hands.