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PROLOGUE
CATHERINE
The hallway was dark, the pulsing beat of a new dance number thumped through the wall at my back as he held me there, trapped between the unforgiving plaster and his hot, lean frame. His lips were hard and dominant, demanding my surrender, even as I squirmed in his hold. He was the only man that I wanted to disembowel with my stiletto and fuck with equal need.
“Don’t move.” He pressed forward, his solid body pinning me to the wall, his rock hard cock a temptation I couldn’t ignore as I ground my hips against him, trying to get closer. God, yes. More.
“Does this bossy shit work with all the girls?”
“Your pussy's all hot and wet, doll. Don't deny it.”
His dark eyes met mine and the look I gave him should have withered his balls. Instead, it made him grin and I swear I felt his cock pulse. “Shut it down, doll. Every thought in your head. Work. Life. Everything but my dick pressed against you. Shut it the fuck down before I take you over my knee.”
I narrowed my eyes and was equally appalled and aroused. “You wouldn't.”
The thin material of his suit pants was almost no barrier between us as I raised my legs and wrapped them around his hips like a woman in heat. I had no idea arguing would be so fucking hot. My skirt slid up and I rubbed my bare inner thighs against his hips, eager for more.
Lifting my arms over my head, he trapped my wrists in one hand, freeing the other to slide to my waist as he kissed my neck, licked it. Sucked on it. There was going to be a mark there come morning. I arched to give him better access as his fingers left a trail of heat on their way to cup my full breast beneath my blouse. He shoved the thin material up his calloused palms on my flesh. My hard nipple begged for his attention.
“Yeeees.”
Holy shit. Was that me? I didn’t recognize that voice. I’d never sounded that desperate to be touched, that needy. And work… what work? Nothing turned my mind off faster than a man gently biting my nipple. And not just any man. Sam Kane. God, he'd been a childhood crush, the star of my schoolgirl fantasies, but that had been fifteen years ago.
He'd been a boy then. Now, now he was all man and I was climbing him like a tree. We'd spent the past hour arguing and he instinctively knew how to push every one of my buttons. Instead of kneeing him in the balls, I was in the hallway of a public place letting him touch and taste and lick me.
“That's it. The only thing you should be thinking about is this.” His lips claimed mine as his free hand slid lower, down my abdomen. His blunt fingertips slipped over my skirt to my thigh, then up, higher, and stroked along the lace of my panties.
His hand tightened around my wrists, his tongue plundered my mouth and two fingers nudged my panties to the side and slid into me. I was so damn hot for him I nearly came from that one rough thrust.
I couldn’t stop the throaty moan that escaped me as he pulled his fingers free and fucked me with them again. He was opinionated, bossy and annoying as fuck. He even stole my cell to keep me from working. So why was I panting his name as he did what he wanted?
Grinding on his hand, I tried to get him to stroke my clit, to take me the rest of the way, but he broke off our kiss and bit my bottom lip lightly, just enough to let me know he was in charge. “Not yet, Katie. Not until I give you permission.”
Permission? How dare he! I dripped all over his fingers.
My pussy clenched and he pulled back, thrusting twice more, ever so careful to keep his hand away from my clit. I moaned in frustration and he nibbled at my jaw. “That’s the sound I want to hear from you.” He fingered my clit once, with a swift, light touch that just drove me higher. I whimpered and he returned to take my lips, speaking against them as his fingers moved in and out of my wet pussy gently now, so damn slowly I wanted to cry.
He kissed me, hard, then unwrapped my legs from his waist, then moved lower. Letting go of my wrists he knelt in front of me and lifted my skirt to my waist. My lace panties he simply shoved to the side as he held me in place with one hand on my abdomen. The other he used to spread me open for his mouth.
“Oh shit,” I murmured, staring at his dark head between my thighs, feeling his hot breath fan over my pussy.
I should tell him to stop. We were in the damn hallway of a bar. True, a back hallway, but anyone could walk in at any moment. I should behave like a proper professional and tell him no, tell him to wait until we were somewhere more private, more—
He sucked my clit into his mouth and flicked the nub with his tongue and I tangled my fingers in his hair. Head back, I didn’t realize I’d closed my eyes until I heard a soft chuckle coming from my right.
Shocked, I turned to find the hot cowboy I’d met on the plane earlier watching us with an interested glow in his eyes. He leaned against the wall, arms crossed. How long had he been watching? Too shocked to move, instead I whimpered as my clit was released, then sucked back into Sam's mouth. Did he know we weren't alone? If he did, he was just too damn skilled to even think about being ashamed. Pushing at his head, I wanted him to move away, then with one little flick of his tongue, I tugged on his hair, holding him closer. I was on the brink, teetering on the edge of my orgasm.
The cowboy smiled and closed the distance. The hallway felt crowded. No, I felt crowded with two men paying very close attention to me. One guy had his head between my legs and making me come with just his tongue, the other blocking out the world with his broad shoulders. He lifted his hand to my cheek, then stroked his thumb over my bottom lip. “I see you’ve met my cousin.”
Cousin? He grinned, then he kissed me, hot, wet and deep as Sam worked my wet pussy with his tongue, pushing me right over and into an earth shattering orgasm.
As Sam got me off, his cousin, Jack, stifled my screams with a kiss. I was in deep, deep trouble here.
CHAPTER ONE
CATHERINE
Ten Hours Earlier…
“This is the captain speaking. We're in line for takeoff, but as you can see out the window, the weather isn't playing nice and the tower has put a ground stop on all flights. Not sure exactly how long this thunderstorm will hold us up. Looks like we’ll be here for at least half an hour, folks. We'll keep you posted.”
Great. Peeking out the airplane's small window, I could see the roiling charcoal gray clouds that prevented us from leaving Denver. I'd dashed from one gate to the far distant commuter area to reach my connecting flight in time, only to be waylaid like this on the tarmac. I glanced at my watch, then sighed. I didn't have time for this. Hell, I didn't have time to go to Montana, but I was going just the same.
Leaning back into the uncomfortable headrest, I shut my eyes and tried to breathe away my frustrations. I was up half the night finishing the depositions that had to be filed this morning, then spent another two hours closing out as many emails as possible. By the time I'd finished that, I still had to pack. I had nothing, nothing, that was appropriate for the Wild West besides a pair of jeans and running shoes, so after an hour of fretting, I just threw a little bit of everything into a bag.
I'd slept a measly two hours when the alarm went off at four-thirty, only to find the bridge from Manhattan to Queens was having overnight repairs and the traffic was backed up. Then airport security was long and I'd suffered the up close and personal pat down because of the titanium pins in my leg. When I had finally reached the gate, my boss had called to complain about my lack of face-time with my current client list. I wanted to make partner badly enough that I actually considered abandoning my suitcase and just heading into the office, but when my flight was called to board, I knew I had to get at least one mess in my life cleaned up. And now I was stuck in a thunderstorm.
As I tried to rub away the sandpaper feel behind my lids, I attempted the deep breathing techniques I’d learned in yoga class. The classes were supposed to be calming, but they never worked. I was never calm. And right now, the canned air inside this tiny airplane was getting hotter and hotter, sinking into my lungs, suffocating me. I was stuck and there was nothing I could do about it. Shit. I hated things that were beyond my control. I wasn't claustrophobic, but I felt trapped just the same. A huge clap of thunder shook the plane, just before rain pummeled the metal like a thousand tiny hammers. Was God trying to tell me something?
Breathe.
Breathe in slowly through the nose, hold it, hold it, let it out through the mouth. Breathe in…sandalwood and leather with just a hint of warmth I was sure had to be completely unique to him. I sat next to Mr. Cowboy Hottie and he smelled too good to focus on anything else—especially with my eyes closed. The scent wasn't cologne, soap maybe, and had me completely distracted. How could anyone concentrate on yoga breathing when Tall, Dark and Handsome and I were bumping shoulders?
I'd almost swallowed my tongue when he'd walked down the narrow aisle, put his cowboy hat in the overhead and took the seat beside me, all but folding his large size into the small space. He'd offered a quick smile and a polite hello and opened his book. I'd been texting on my phone at the time, but my thumbs had frozen in place as I ogled him. Blatantly. I figured I owed it to all womankind to look my fill as my heart started once again.
He had fair hair that was a little long and curled at the ends. Combed, but untamed. His eyes were equally dark and piercing, but the way his full lips quirked up at the corners indicated he wasn't as intense as he seemed. Tanned skin proved to me he didn't work in an office. As did his big hands with short, well kept nails and a fascinating play of muscle that shifted just beneath the surface. Strong hands that made a woman beg to be touched. Most importantly, no wedding ring either.
I was a total perv thinking about my seat mate like this, but holy shit. He was pumping out the pheromones or something because suddenly all I could think about was climbing on his lap and taking him for a ride. My brain had stalled and my ovaries had taken over.
There weren't any cowboys in New York. And I had to admit, there was nothing like a man whose size and corded muscles were brought about by hard work, fresh air and sunshine instead of daily trips to the gym. No man could wear a snap button shirt, a pair of jeans and worn boots like a cowboy. And this man? He was all cowboy. Holy hell, I'd always thought the urban businessman was hot, but they were pale weaklings in comparison. They might be able to make a billion dollar deal over lunch, but I'd turn a blind eye if they tried to get me in bed. But Mr. Hottie? He could ride and wrangle me into submission any day.
Since I wasn't going to tell him that, I glanced at my watch again. Three minutes had passed since the captain's announcement. I should use this dead time to my advantage. Bending forward, I tried to reach my bag, but the seats were too close together. I had to lean sideways to do so only to find the side of my head bumped into Mr. Hottie's rock hard thigh. Rock hard and warm thigh.
Abruptly, I sat up and flicked a gaze his way. “Sorry!” I blushed furiously and bit my lip.
Oh shit, he had a dimple. He smiled, showing off that perfect indentation in his right cheek and I just stared at it, my mouth open. He had a five o'clock shadow, and I wondered if his dark whiskers would be soft or scratchy. Would he run them across his lover’s skin? Use that slight abrasion to tease the inside of my thighs before tasting me with his—
“No problem. Anytime,” he murmured, his voice deep.
Was he insinuating I could put my head in his lap anytime? Did that mean he wanted me to…
My eyes dropped to his lap and I quickly observed those well-worn jeans molded him in all the right places.
