Two to Wrangle

by Victoria Vane

  If that’s how she wanted to play this, she was about to find out that his prior taunts were only the warm-up act. “What was it like to be on that horse with your legs spread wide?” he asked. “Empty, Monica? Do you ache to have me filling that space, to be moving inside you? Last night when you got yourself off, did you imagine my mouth and tongue licking and sucking that sweet little pussy? Is the thought of me doing it right now getting you all wet?”

  She glared back at him but didn’t deny it. “You’re playing dirty, Ty, and I don’t understand why.”

  “I’m renegotiating.”

  “But why?” she demanded. “What is it you really want from me?”

  “I want you to be my partner.”

  “I can’t understand this obsession! Why is that rundown hotel so damned important to you?”

  “Because that place saved my life, and I can’t just walk away. I know what it could be, but I don’t just want it for me. I want it for Tom. I know you can’t understand it. I doubt anybody could understand but him.”

  She smiled sadly. “You’re a lot like him, aren’t you? I never realized before how much.”

  “What do you mean?” he asked.

  “Sentimental. I never would have pegged you for that type. The hotel is just a business, Ty. You don’t owe it anything.”

  “I owe the people a living, don’t I?”

  “They’ll find other jobs,” Monica countered.

  “It’s not like that. We’re family.”

  “And that’s the biggest part of the problem, Ty. How can you expect to make a profit by comping half the guests? It’s a business. You need to be more objective and less emotional about it.”

  “Maybe you’re right,” Ty confessed. “And that’s why I need you.”

  She wished he’d quit saying that. The more she heard those words, the more tempted she was to let herself believe it.

  “How can you expect me to move forward unless I know my stake is going to be secure?” Monica asked. “Any kind of joint venture with you is well beyond my comfort zone.”

  “Your stake?”

  “Yes.” She nodded slowly. “You’re asking me to make an investment in something that has a damned poor performance record. Why should I take that risk?” It wasn’t so much the financial as the personal investment that had her running scared. How could she trust him? She was trained to think in terms of past performance and he had a terrible track record.

  “Isn’t that what a venture capitalist does?” he argued. “Takes a chance on the success of something that might look like a long shot for a chance at a massive return?”

  Watchful and wary, her gaze met his. “But that’s just it. How do I know I have a chance of any return at all?”

  She’d chosen every word with care. Studying his face, she could see him reading between the lines.

  “I can’t give you the assurance you want, Monica. I wish I could. I’ve lived my life my way for a long time. It’s hard to change, but I have just as much to lose in this deal as you do. Probably a lot more, given that I’m the one who has the most vested.”

  “How do you figure that?” she asked.

  “Mathematically,” he replied. “I’ve given that place almost eight years of my life. I can never get any of that back if this whole thing goes south. It’s not just about money. It’s about who I am. This is about my whole life. So you see now? This is treacherous ground for both of us. I’m in as much danger of drowning in the quicksand as you are.”

  There it was again, that flash of vulnerability in his eyes. He was just as scared about this deal as she was, but he was right. He had far more to lose. The Hotel Rodeo was little more than a piece of real estate to Monica, but it was Ty’s identity. How could she walk away without at least giving him a chance to try and make a go of it? She had no doubt what Tom would have wanted her to do.

  Monica drew a breath and then released it in a long sigh. “All right, Tyrone Jefferson Morgan. You’ve got a week.”

  “A week?” He gave a short jerk of his head. “What do mean?”

  “If you really want me to be your partner, I’ll give you seven days to convince me.” And she planned to enjoy every second of it. His gaze dropped to her hands as she grabbed hold of his belt buckle. One brisk tug jerked it free. “And the clock starts now.”

  Chapter Seven

  Monica awoke to a rustling sound and inhaled a tiny gasp. A thump and a mumbled curse told her there was someone else in the room. Whoever had entered didn’t bother with the lights. She realized it could only be Ty. Her heart hammered a rapid tattoo as one callused hand stroked her arm. “Monica, you awake?”

  “I am now.” She sat up abruptly and pulled the chain on the bedside lamp. “What is it, Ty? Is something wrong?”

  “Couldn’t sleep knowing you were just two doors down.”

  “So you thought I could help you with that?” she asked, letting her gaze rove appreciatively over his lean, muscular frame as stood over her bed. Ty in his hat and boots was always tempting, but Ty barefoot and shirtless in low-slung jeans was like sex on a stick.

  “Not exactly.” The corners of his mouth curved into a seductive smile. “I just decided you shouldn’t sleep either.”

  “How considerate,” she said dryly.

  “Just thought I shouldn’t waste any persuasion opportunities.” He leaned down, brushing warm soft lips over hers. The kiss, a surprising combination of tenderness mingled with desire, warmed her insides and set off warning sirens in her head. Sex was one thing, but tenderness intimated something more, something she wasn’t sure she could handle. He released her slowly, his hazel eyes asking for the invitation she had no will to refuse.

  The moment she peeled back the covers, his mouth claimed hers again, but this time in orchestration with his hands. Both moved over her body with a slow and masterful deliberation that was too potent to resist. He slid a calloused palm between her thighs.

  She moaned and reached for him, caressing his hard length through his jeans.

  “Don’t stop there, sugar.” He groaned and helped her to free his cock.

  Together, they peeled off his jeans. He wore nothing underneath but a proud pillar of manly flesh. Flesh that begged to be touched, stroked, kissed . . .

  “Let me be on top this time, Ty,” she murmured between fevered kisses, but he resisted as she tried to push him backward onto the bed. Ty liked to be in charge.

  So did she.

  “Please, Ty.” She met his gaze as she took him in hand and slowly wet her lips. Earlier today, his magical mouth had taken her places she’d never been. Now she wanted to do the same for him.

  His pupils flared with immediate understanding. He dropped back onto the mattress with a groan of surrender. She kissed him deeply as she straddled him and then broke away to work her greedy mouth down his delicious body. He surprised her by grabbing both of her hips in his hands.

  “Turn around.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me. I want you to turn around when you do that—on your elbows and knees.”

  Comprehension made her freeze. A hot flush rushed up her neck to invade her face. She was no prude about sex and thought she was well beyond blushing, but she’d never put herself so completely on display before. “But Ty . . . ,” she protested.

  She should have known better. Ty was anything but passive in bed. He’d allow her to be on top, but that didn’t mean he was going to just lie there and take it like a good boy.

  “Indulge me, sugar,” his voice urged even as his hands guided her into position. “I promise you’ll like it.” With any other man, riding on top was the only way she could get off, but Ty had seemingly made it his mission to make her come any damned way he chose. Maybe her brain resented the power coup, but the rest of her body tingled with anticipation.

  “I can’t even tell you how much I love your ass, Monica . . .” His big warm hands slid over the globes. “So I’m thinkin’ I need to show you.”

 
His suggestive words and stroking hands melted her, making her insides as liquid as warm honey. It took everything she had to get her mind back on task—Ty’s pleasure.

  Taking him in both hands, she lowered herself, breasts resting on his belly until his purple head stared her in the face—big, thick, and intimidating. Her position was awkward as hell, but she wasn’t about to let him unravel her, a vow she almost choked on at the first sensation of Ty’s searing tongue probing her slit.

  She looked over her shoulder with a gasp.

  “Losing your concentration?” Ty asked, a smirk lurking on his face.

  Sex between them was always hot, but underneath the simmering passion was always a battle of wills. She lowered her head and began kissing and licking the length of his shaft from base to head, circling and teasing his glans with her tongue before taking him in by slow, silky smooth inches. She loved the feel of him, his musk and the muffled moans of his pleasure as he applied himself more vigorously to hers.

  She’d sworn not to be first to come, but it was damned hard to ignore the sensations of his swirling tongue. Her position facing his feet made it difficult for her to stimulate his sweet spot, but it did allow easy access to things she’d only read about in Cosmo. Maybe it was time to put some of that theory into practice?

  Ty loved oral—the giving as well as the getting—but sixty-nine always took things to a whole new level. He kissed and tongued and teased, keeping his mind on her as she took him into her mouth. He knew he was big and tried to be considerate. He didn’t jerk or thrust but let her adjust to him and then set her own pace. He shut his eyes, surrendering himself for timeless seconds to sultry suction and pure pleasure, before applying himself once more to hers.

  Although he’d always taken pride in pleasing his partners, he’d never been more in tune with any other woman’s body, with her signals, her sounds—had never worked as hard to please any woman as he did with Monica. And every damn time only seemed to get better.

  Her taste was the sweetest on his tongue, her moans as he licked and sucked her were a melody to his ears—the moans that were now creating a vibration that almost made his eyes roll back in his head. He tamped down the sudden urge to thrust to a finish. He’d hold back his release. If it fucking killed him. When the fingers that lightly caressed his balls began exploring elsewhere, he thought it just might. His sac drew up almost the instant she began stroking the smooth flesh behind his balls. He went instantly light-headed.

  Holy shit. No woman had ever done that before.

  She increased the pressure. Light but steady.

  He sucked in breath, pulled back a few inches from her, and ground out slowly through his teeth, “Sugar, you’d better stop that now.”

  He exhaled on a long hiss as she relaxed her grip on his shaft and released him slowly from her mouth. “Losing your concentration, Ty?” she asked in a smug tone.

  “Not at all,” he replied, struggling to keep his tone smooth and even. “Just lookin’ out for you. That’s all.”

  “You can look out for me just fine right there, cowboy.”

  “I’m not playing,” he warned darkly. “Keep that up and you might get a whole lot more than you bargained for.”

  She responded with a low chuckle and moved to take him back into her mouth.

  Ty made his own move. Sweeping his arm around her waist, he rolled to his side, taking her down with him. She turned to him with a taunting smile tugging her swollen lips. “Can’t take the heat, Ty? I’m not finished yet.”

  “That’s right, you aren’t finished.” She was so coiled with sexual frustration that she nearly vibrated with it. “But I’m gonna take care of that, of both of us, right now. Turn over.”

  “Why does it always have to be your way?”

  “One of us has to wear the pants. We’ve had this conversation before.”

  She scowled back. “And I called you out on that chauvinistic bullshit.”

  “That you did. I seem to recall you also spouting off something about sexual harassment. I still think you need a whole lot more of that, Ms. Brandt, and I’m your man. Now turn over, like I asked you to, or I’ll take you over my knee and spank that sweet ass.”

  The look in Ty’s eyes said he meant business. Monica’s stomach knotted, but she was hard pressed to say how much of her anxiety was genuine fear and how much was sexual excitement. “No, Ty,” she said tightly. “I told you before that I’m not into those kinds of games.”

  His gaze hardened. “You think I’m going to hurt you? Shit, Monica! This is only sex play. Most women get off on it.”

  “I’m not most women,” she snapped.

  “That’s for damn sure,” he mumbled.

  She licked her lips. “Maybe starting this back up wasn’t such a good idea.”

  His gaze narrowed. “I think we’re done playing now.”

  Her heart raced. “What do you mean?”

  “I’m not the one who high-tailed it out of Vegas at the first misunderstanding. How do you think I felt when you walked out on me?”

  “I don’t know, Ty. Maybe you could tell me.”

  “I was ready to let you go your own way—until you did. Hearing you got on that plane with Evan was like getting a knife in the gut.” His tone and gaze softened. “I’d never hurt you. Don’t you know that? I don’t want to be the one to fuck this up. If I do, I know I’ll lose you for good, and I really don’t want that to happen.”

  “That’s what you say, but how can I really know?”

  He let loose a long sigh. “Talk is cheap, Monica. I was raised in the belief that actions speak louder than words. Will you at least give me a chance to prove it?” He cupped her face, kissing her with a tenderness that turned her inside out. He released her, his gaze holding, hers, questioning, waiting.

  “Yes, Ty,” she whispered back. “I’ll give you the chance.”

  She felt the rush of warm air from his exhale before his mouth took hers again, this time deeply, with more passion. Any remaining doubts vaporized the moment their tongues touched, tangled, and twined.

  “Protection?” she asked breathlessly as he nudged her legs apart with a hard, hairy thigh.

  “Do we need it?” he asked. “I haven’t been with anyone but you.” His eyes held hers again, seeking reassurance.

  “Me either, Ty. There’s nothing between Evan and me anymore.”

  The words were barely out of her mouth before . . . Sweet Jesus.

  His bare flesh pierced and impaled her, hot and pulsing, blinding her with marrow-penetrating pleasure. Maintaining eye contact, he moved inside her, barely blinking through every core-deep thrust. Her world contracted to their two joined bodies filling the air with synchronous sighs and the sound of softly slapping flesh.

  Her climax came in a sudden surge of sweeping waves. Ty’s groan accompanied her muffled cry, followed by spasmodic spurts of scalding heat. He held her tightly, in a locked tangle of limbs, until the ripples subsided, leaving them in a mindless state of sated repletion.

  “Where are we now, Ty?” Monica pushed closer into the curve of the big warm body wrapped around hers.

  “In Bumfuck, Oklahoma,” he replied sleepily.

  “No, that’s not what I meant. I want to know where we are going from here.”

  Once more he answered her literally. “Back to Vegas. We have a deal, remember? I have a week to convince you we make a good team.”

  “Six days and nine hours by my watch,” she corrected.

  To her surprise, he rolled her back beneath him. “Then I’d best not waste any more of it.”

  Chapter Eight

  The second time they rode out, instead of doubling with Ty, Monica rode her own horse down to the river—a sleepy-eyed, swaybacked bay gelding named Cooper. He was certainly gentle enough for her, but he had a propensity to stop and graze whenever the fancy came over him. Once he even tried to lie down, likely to nap, but Monica’s shriek as his knees buckled startled him back to a wakeful trot—a jarring pace
that made her ass bounce in the saddle. Her thighs were already screaming in agony, as if she’d done a marathon session on a Thighmaster, but she was hard pressed to say who was most to blame for that, the horse or Ty.

  They rode in almost complete silence, but it was far from unpleasant. It was the kind of stillness borne of a calm heart and a peaceful mind. After last night Monica felt a little of both, more in harmony with the world than she could recall for a very long time. She and Ty had begun to connect on a level she hadn’t anticipated. It was a lot like the breakthrough that Ty had spoken of in regard to training horses—something that happens when you least expect it.

  Ty continued to surprise her in so many ways. He was tough but also tender, commanding but considerate. In bed, he’d always been passionate, but last night he’d also shown patience and understanding. Ty was almost an antithesis to her ex-fiancé Evan, and everything she never knew she wanted in a man. But her wants and needs seemed to have taken such an unexpected course.

  She didn’t know what had prompted her decision yesterday, unless it was all just a subconscious sabotage of her plans to return to New York. She knew she should go back, but in that brief silence between her own heartbeats she could almost hear Tom’s voice saying “Stay.”

  She glanced up from her horse to watch Ty, sitting broad-backed and tall in the saddle. Just watching him ride made her ache in two places at once. He turned his head and smiled as if reading her thoughts, and then pulled up his horse. They’d taken a slightly different route this time, a short ride that bypassed the river and took them straight to the hill and the lone oak tree. Ty dismounted from his horse and reached up to help her down from hers.

  He grimaced at her moan as she slid from the saddle. “That bad, huh?”

  “Oh yeah,” she said. “If I never mount another horse it’ll be too soon.”

  “I can fix you right up, sugar. Half hour in the Jacuzzi tub in the hotel owner’s suite followed by a deep-muscle massage will have you right as rain again.”