Lost Rider Page 7

  "Do you want a gold star?"

  "Bitchy doesn't suit you," he responds, ignoring my question as if I hadn't spoken.

  I stand up a little straighter as he takes another step closer, leaving just a couple of feet between us.

  "Also noticed you seemed to forget one," he continues, taking one more step until he's close enough that I have to tip my head back slightly to look up into his eyes.

  "I didn't forget anything," I retort, leaning off the sink edge I had been pushing my body into and rolling on to my toes so I can try to close the intimidation gap he's trying to create by using our height difference against me. "How was I supposed to know that you would roll back into town, tonight of all nights?"

  I watch his eyes heat and that storm brew once again within them as he clenches his jaw. My eyes desperately want to move to the corner of his jaw to see if the same flex would be visible that he always used to get when he would clench, but I force them to stay trained on his face.

  "Bullshit, Leighton. You knew I wouldn't stay away when Quinn wanted me here."

  Throwing my head back, I laugh, the nerves he has flowing through my body firing so rapidly I feel light-headed. "Yeah? What about when he got sick the first time and she asked you to come home? What about the second, third, or even the last time? Where were you then, Maverick? Seems to me that I hit the nail on the head. Don't use your sister as an excuse. So what? You're home now--are we supposed to kiss your fuckin' buckles and throw out the red carpet? Famous rodeo star Maverick Davis is back, so time to bow down? News flash, bucko, while you weren't here I've been making sure to ease some of the pain for them, and tonight is about them since we all figured you would continue the coward's way and stay gone."

  He grows tense with each word I all but shout in his face, but he remains silent.

  "You want your pie?!" I yell, my voice coming out more like a high-pitched screech. My ears roar as my heart picks up speed with my anger and I feel like I can actually hear the blood rushing through my veins. "You want your blasted pie?" I knock him in the gut with my shoulder hard enough to make him shuffle back a step as I push past him and walk over to the fridge that's closest to my office. The one that I keep all my special pies in. Wrenching the door open, I grab the closest cookie dough creation before slamming the door back.

  When I turn back around, he's still standing in the same spot, but instead of that raging anger, all I see is shock. Yeah, soak it in because I'm not the same little weak girl you used to know. My boots hit the floor loudly with each hard step I take back toward him, relaxing my face to offer him my most insincere smile.

  "You want your pie, Mav?" I ask again, this time hiding my anger behind a sticky-sweet voice and a little smile.

  He doesn't speak, and honestly, I'm not sure I'm capable of giving him a word in anyway. Without a second thought, I bring my arm back before I swing it forward and slap the whole pie into his face.

  "There's your goddamn pie, you good-for-nothing jackass!"

  Turning on my heels, I take huge gulps of air before bringing both hands up and slamming them on the door. It swings open and I step into the main room with my head down as I inspect the amount of ice cream splatter that is now peppering my arms and torso. Apparently I wasn't thinking the whole pie-in-the-face thing all the way through or I would have realized I would probably end up wearing a good bit of it too.

  With a sigh, I look up, ready to search for a clean towel to clean myself up when I notice the silence around me.

  Oh, well . . . shit.

  Every single person in the room is looking my way. All of the conversations in the whole room have completely stopped. I chance a look in Quinn and Clay's direction and feel a blush heat my cheeks when I see them both fighting a losing battle with their laughter.

  The second Quinn's head tips back and her throaty laugh rings out in the silence, it breaks the shock keeping the rest of the room silent, and before I know it, everyone is joining in.

  I drop my head, letting out a rushed exhale, feeling the adrenaline leaving my body. My hands shake when I reach out to grab one of the clean rags from under the register, and as I wipe at my shirt and arms, I do my best to keep my blush from growing.

  "That's one way to knock a layer of stubborn off that boy's head," I hear Marybeth Perkins call out, her cackle following her outburst. "Wonder who the pup is now!" she oddly adds. My God, that woman is crazy as it comes.

  "You forgot the plates," Jana giggles and walks past me into the kitchen.

  Looking back over at Quinn, seeing her laughing even harder now, calms my racing heart. Seeing her like that makes my humiliation worth it. If she's laughing, she won't be crying. Bending over again, I reach behind the stack of rags, move a few things around before reaching my goal.

  "Oh, hell, little girl," I hear Angus Todd bellow when the glass jar hits the counter.

  "You first, old man," I call, pointing in his direction with a smirk.

  He grumbles and puts on a good show for the crowded room, but still stands from his seat. He stomps toward me, adjusting his suspenders and patting his rounded belly. "Give it here, wild one, and let me show you how it's done."

  "Let's see if you're singing the same tune when I'm the one standing at the end of the night and you have to call Sheriff Holden to come cart your tail back home."

  Pulling his old Stetson off his head, he carefully places it atop one of the pie cases, then runs his meaty hand through his gray hair before picking up the jar of moonshine. With a smile I hand him one of the disposable shot glasses that I keep hidden with the jar.

  He's still grumping when he takes my offering and pours his shot, throwing it back and letting out a sharp hiss. "By God, girl. Don't stand there looking happier than a pig in shit either. Never told us you were offering hell water. Where in tarnation did you get that?"

  I shrug my shoulder, wink, and take the jar back with a laugh. With this crowd, when the moonshine comes out, it goes quick. Luckily, I have it stockpiled for times just like this. I pour shot after shot from the huge jar. Quinn walks up next and gives me another appreciative laugh before throwing her own shot back, not grimacing half as much as Angus did. Clay steps up next, and I pour his shot before getting one for myself.

  "Cheers," I toast them both, looking from Quinn up to her brother.

  He gives me an odd look before looking behind me. I don't even have a second to question him. A tan, thickly muscled arm reaches over my shoulder, and the shot is pulled from my fingers. I yelp when I'm turned around by a firm hand on my shoulder and look up in shock at Maverick's pie-covered face, well . . . what splattering of pie is still left after what looks like a few angry swipes of his hand to clear his face. His hat is long gone, and those raven locks of his are a mess of rumpled waves and streaks of pie.

  His rage-filled eyes never leave mine as he brings the shot up to his thick lips and takes it in one quick flick of his wrist. For a split second I see a flash of mischief swirling just below the surface. Had I been thinking straight, I would have heeded that as a warning. He throws the plastic shot glass on the floor, and with a speed quicker than any man his size should ever move, he bends his knees, closing in on me, and hooks his hands right under the swell of my ass to lift me off the ground with that firm grasp on the tops of my thighs. I yelp out my surprise as he keeps lifting me until I'm left with no other choice but to grab on to his shoulders. The second my hands touch his very tense shoulders, he moves his hands down my thighs, forcing me to wrap my legs around his waist.

  When I feel the hardness of his erection against my center, my eyes widen even farther and I let out a very audible gasp of shock. Using it against me, his mouth crashes down on mine. I feel us bend slightly as his hands travel back up to my ass, flexing deep, and pulling me tighter against his erection. Without a thought, my mouth opens and my fingers move to push into his hair, holding me in place where he clearly wanted me. I feel the bits of pie sticky between my fingers, but I just burrow them in deeper. The
warm burn of the moonshine hits my mouth first as he slowly lets the shot he just took pour into my mouth. Instinctively, I swallow, not even minding the burn of alcohol. When the last drop hits my mouth, his tongue dips out and sweeps in with no hesitation.

  At the first touch of our tongues, I feel his muscles jump under my hands at the same time awareness like I've never felt before starts zapping through my nerves. I should be pushing him away, but that one touch destroyed any possibility of rational thought.

  The world around us just fades to nothing.

  I forget about everything that has ever happened between us.

  My anger. His anger. It all just vanishes and it's as if he never left.

  Without conscious thought, my body moves on its own. My hooked ankles tighten behind his back and I rub myself slightly against the bulge hiding behind his jeans. My hands move through the soft hair at the nape of his neck, deepening the hold I have on him. The hands holding me to his body tighten even further to the point I'm sure I'll have two huge handprints on my ass.

  A groan rumbles from his chest as he deepens our kiss. Our tongues tangling together in a dance that holds so much promise. His mouth feasts off mine as he gives one more flex of his hands, pushing me harder against his erection. Just when I'm seconds away from arching my back and shamelessly begging him to take me, he lifts his head with one final closed-mouth kiss against my bruised lips.

  I watch him through hooded eyes and I see the moment he puts his walls back up. I feel bereft, even with his arms still around me, holding me to his hard body.

  "Can't remember pie ever tastin' like that when your mama would make it, darlin'," he tells me, his voice thicker, more rough, than ever.

  I stare at him, mute as he runs his hands from the hold he had been using on my ass and down my thighs to my knees, prying my legs from his body. When my feet hit the ground and the fog in my brain lifts, his words finally reach my short-circuited brain. Even though it feels like hours have passed during that kiss, I know it wasn't but a minute, if that, but the anger he had managed to quell inside me comes screaming back with a vengeance. I can't believe that I just lost my mind, here, in front of everyone, and his words make it painfully clear that this is all just some big joke to him.

  "You son of a bitch," I say with a gasp. My hand flies out, but before it hits his cheek he grabs my wrist.

  "You're playin' a dangerous game. You sure you're ready to find out what happens when you keep pushin' me, Leighton?"

  "I hate you," I fume, my anger building higher when I realize he's just taken the upper hand I thought I had.

  He bends, bringing the tip of his nose to mine. His words for my ears only. "You don't. Would be better for you if you really did, but darlin', you wouldn't have come that close to comin' just from a kiss if you hated me." His voice drops impossibly lower, his next words just barely reaching my ears. "Tell me, would you have screamed my name?"

  Oh, no, he did not. "I was not about to come!" I scream as fury pulses through me, only to snap my mouth shut when I hear the hushed whispers behind us.

  My eyes widen when his lips, swollen from our kiss, twist up into a devastatingly wicked smile. He looks behind me before moving his mouth to my ear. "We'll continue this another time," he says before stomping through the crowd and out the front door.

  For the life of me I can't tell if it's a threat . . . or a promise.

  8

  MAVERICK

  "Let It Ride" by Brantley Gilbert

  My lips burn as I rush into the muggy heat outside. It could be snowing and I still wouldn't be able to shake the heat burning through me.

  Grabbing my shirt, I roughly pull until the buttons give and I'm able to yank the soggy material from my body. I use the shirt to scrub what's left of the pie from my face and neck and then toss the shirt into the bed of my truck. The climb up into my seat is painful when my jeans tighten even further against my straining cock.

  What the fuck was I thinking back there? If I wanted to slide back into town without making a big deal out of my return, I just blew that all to hell. I can't even explain what came over my body. One second I'm taking a pie to the face and in the next I've got so much desire for her slamming through me, I couldn't not kiss her. It felt like we had been at the end of a long run of verbal foreplay with only one way to proceed.

  Together.

  "Fuck!" I shout and slam my hand against my steering wheel.

  I grab my pack of smokes from the cup holder, but when I see it's empty I crush it in my hand before throwing it on the floor and dropping my head back against the seat.

  It was all so simple ten years ago. Cut all the ties to Pine Oak so that nothing and no one was waiting for me here, tempting me to return. I would always have my brother and sister, but they would come to me, and I knew deep down, they wouldn't give up this damn town to chase me.

  But Leighton would.

  She thought I didn't notice, but she did a shit job at hiding her crush on me. But I also knew that if anyone were likely to follow after me, it would be her. She would have given up everything for that. No matter how much I truly did want her back then, I knew I had to cut the ties that connected our hearts. I couldn't ask her to choose between the life I was fleeing and the one I was running to. So I did the only thing that made sense to a desperate kid at the time. I made sure I hurt a young--too young--Leighton James so badly that she wouldn't ever think of me the way I knew she had. I killed whatever she felt for me with words that I wish to God I could take back.

  It took me a long damn time to realize that I had really hurt her to prevent her from being the one that hurt me. I knew it would happen. I had been fighting the way I felt about her for too fucking long. Lusting after a girl too young to be lusted after. She made me actually think about sticking around the one place I had been desperate to leave.

  I craved her.

  Hell, I craved her before I even knew what those feelings meant.

  And that was long before she looked like the walking wet dream she is now. She looked good back then, but now . . . fuck. She took what I always thought was perfection and amped it up tenfold.

  If I were a better man, I would have just said good-bye back then and left her without pain, but I learned way too early that if you let someone get close enough, they would strike you hard enough to draw blood. And I was done letting people get the first slice at my skin.

  How many times had I lain in bed and imagined what it would be like to have her in my arms? How many times had I stroked myself dry with the thought of taking her body? How many times had I regretted leaving town without ever feeling her lips against my own?

  And now that I've held her in my arms, felt the fire of her desire for me still burning deep, I'm not sure I could walk away this time if I tried. I know damn well if I would have let myself feel this years ago, I wouldn't have left, and the worst part now is I'm not sure if everything I've been chasing--everything I've lost--is worth knowing what I've been missing.

  Turning the key, I fire up my truck and back out onto Main Street, taking the empty roads back toward the ranch. The last place I want to go, but I know it won't be long before Clay is hot on my trail and I'd rather face him without my cock about to explode in my pants with just the memory of what Leighton feels like about to come apart in my arms.

  "Fuck," I exhale slowly.

  "Ahhh," I groan deeply, feeling the pressure leave my balls as my come shoots from the pulsing cock between my fist. I reach out and use my free hand to steady my body as thick jets of my come shoot over the wall in front of me. My head falls forward as my abs clench with the powerful force that just ripped through my body.

  The steam from the shower continues to float around me.

  Moving my fist slowly, I continue to ride my release. When the last drop falls from the tip of my cock, I release my shaft and step back into the spray of the shower. Picking up the soap, I continue washing my body and silently pray that I can keep my cock down now that I've given
in to the thoughts of Leighton wrapped around me.

  As I'm stepping out of the shower a little while later, temporarily sated and praying that will be enough to keep me from going at Leigh again, I hear the sounds of a slamming door echo through the house. I stand on the rug in front of the shower as drops of water run down my skin. The echo of boots slamming against the stairs hits my ears, and I step forward to press the button on my phone that will light up the screen. I laugh to myself when I see the time and look away from where my phone is resting next to the sink to wrap the towel around my hips. I figured he would have been right on my heels, but he managed to hold off an hour before coming home. Right when I finished tucking the towel at the side of my hip, his fist slams against the door, all but shaking the wood on its frame.

  With a sigh of acceptance at what I'm sure will be one hell of a showdown between Clay and myself, I turn the knob. "I don't want to hear it, Clay," I start before the door has even cracked, but the second I started pulling the door open, he pushes hard and the knob is ripped from my still-wet hands.

  "I don't really give a rat's ass what you want, Maverick."

  Before I can blink, I've got a fist coming toward my face and there isn't fuck all I can do to avoid it. Shock has a hold on me, and it doesn't matter a lick that my reflexes should have been able to block the punch because I'm held stock stupid.

  "Goddammit!" I bellow when pain shoots out from where the punch landed on my jaw.

  "Yeah? Did that hurt? I hope to hell and high water that it did. I should have done that a long time ago!"

  Grabbing hold of the counter behind me, I blink a few times to clear the wetness the punch brought to my eyes. Taking a deep breath, I look up from where my hands are clutching the sides of the counter and over my shoulder, taking in the blazing mad blue eyes before me.

  Not Clay. Leigh.

  "Feel better?" I ask on a deep, exhaled breath.

  Silence follows my question. I wait, knowing another outburst is sure to be coming.

  "Dammit!"

  I push up on the counter and straighten my body when the curse bursts out, and step forward to reach for the vicious hand that just about rendered me stupid.