Tie Me Down: 2 (Knights in Black Leather) Page 3

  “We’ve got the best bronc rider in south Texas.” He named a man in the audience. “Last year’s National Rodeo Champion.” Thwack.

  Case’s rope circled out, down around her luscious body and cinched slightly, still loose, around Samantha’s waist. She gasped, her bright gaze nailing his. The crowd oohed and ahhed.

  “Step out, Miz Marlowe. That’s right,” he told her, and did a bit of banter with the audience. As soon as he recoiled his rope, he began again. “Tomorrow we want you here at noon for that competition.” The rope circled high, cutting the air with a constant whoosh, whoosh. “Hope y’all will be here in the main arena right after the color guard rides in with the flags.”

  Rest easy now, honey. He turned his back on her. And the crowd murmured its anxiety about his intentions.

  He ignored them, submerging his will to the skill he’d learned from age four. “We have a few folks new to the bull riding event. Two are Bravado boys and they need your applause to compete against skilled competitors from Alpine and Lubbock. They all say they know how to ride well. But you know how men like to brag. Come see if anyone can last longer than the bull.”

  He let the rope fly, hearing it thwap on the wooden floor, noting the shouts and applause from the audience. Thank you, God. I needed that to be precise.

  He whirled around, a grin of triumph plastered on his face, knowing, fearing that Samantha might be far from pleased. But as she lifted her gaze from the rope that circled her feet, Case saw she grew wide-eyed. More appreciative than stunned. Good, you’re going in the right direction, honey.

  This time, he didn’t have to ask her to step out of the ring. She did it on her own, her expression transforming from awe to curiosity.

  He took that as blessing to finish his intro, describing some of the other stars of the weekend and finally getting to the good stuff.

  “Now, we here in Bravado know how you all like to party. We’ve watched you do it—heck, we’ve done it with you—for a hundred and thirty-seven years. But you know how we like our parties.”

  The crowd clapped and hooted and roared.

  Case continued to twirl his rope above his head as he made his way down the steps and began to do a butterfly. As he approached Samantha with the rope whirring in big round swoops, she clenched her jaw. Afraid again? No need. None at all.

  When he began to circle the rope around the two of them in a nice tight wedding ring, she visibly reveled in his skill. Her exhale and her smile spurred him to his next move. He winked at her as he went on, “So fair warning, right? We don’t like you drinking and driving. We don’t like you loitering or looting. We don’t want you raising a ruckus. Now then, as for smoking? We’ve got an ordinance against that in our local establishments. So hey, what can I say? We like you to chew instead of smoke. Someone got a stick of gum?”

  Joel waved his hand in the air, offering up a piece in its white wrapper.

  “Fine! Let’s give it to Miz Marlowe. Now, honey, take the gum. No, don’t unwrap it. Just put the tip in your mouth.”

  Her blue eyes flashed at him as if he might require psychiatric help.

  “You’re strong, Miz Marlowe, and I’m kinda good at working ropes.” He winked.

  Her long thick lashes fluttered and she took the gum between her teeth, the little white stick vibrating.

  “Hold it still, darlin’,” he urged her on a growl and as soon as she did, whack.

  He cracked his rope, sent the gum to the floor, and the house went crazy.

  He was beside her in a flat second, his arm gathering her to his side to shore her up just in case she wanted to fold on him.

  She didn’t.

  Thank god.

  She angled this way and that, waving to the crowd as if she were the newest Miss America. To him she was. Proud. Strong. A woman who could submit with style.

  He put a finger under her beautiful chin, turned her to him and kissed her, hard and fast. “More of that later, honey. Smile for your admirers.”

  She swiveled, her heavy breasts boring nice holes into his chest, and then grinned at the audience. And him.

  “What a ham you are, Samantha Marlowe.”

  “If you had whipped off my nose, I was gonna cut off your balls,” she told him with a cute little wave to the crowd that belied her threat.

  I got other things you can do with them. Case chuckled for the throng, feeling himself freed. He had done this for her. Allowed her to know that a man existed who could master a rope. “Thank you all for coming! Have a wonderful time. Keep chewing gum! And now, let’s dance!”

  He could hear her swallow. Feel her squeeze from her body the last of her distress.

  “Not bad, right?” He had his arm around her waist again, drawing her curves to his thighs. She was warm, she was solid, toned. The memory of her shapely legs as he had seen them Wednesday night, long and bare, sent ripples of need down his spine.

  “You’re talented,” she told him, her gaze delving into his, her boldness something he would never permit in his other life. “Wish I’d had an inkling.”

  “You would have run the other way. I didn’t want to chance that. Not again.”

  “Why?” she countered, spitfire in her gaze. “You capture all the girls you take a shine to?”

  “Usually. And when I don’t, I know why.”

  Her jaw set. Her sky-blue eyes darkened. “Thanks for the memories.” She tried to walk away.

  He hauled her flush to him. Then smiled like a gentleman. “You were a great co-host.”

  “A proper sub?” she shot back.

  He cocked a brow. “Yeah. Even if half of you didn’t want to be.”

  “Part of me still doesn’t.”

  “That’s fine.” He hugged her closer, the reassurance one that pressed her yin to his yang. Some unions took patience. Time. Care. “We can do lots of other things.”

  Her fine red brows rose high. “Like…drink?”

  He noted that she hadn’t argued about the two of them doing “other things”. The band had started a two-step and he was not ready to let her leave his arms. “I’d rather dance.”

  “Is that a suggestion or a command?” she challenged him.

  Okay. Her remaining reluctance made her testy. “It’s a request.”

  “From the mayor to his adversary on the River Authority?”

  He opened his mouth to answer, but she butted right in.

  “Or a Dom to a potential sub?”

  “Tonight only Case Turner asking Miz Marlowe to take a turn around the floor.”

  She put one hand to his shoulder and one up as if to let him lead her. Her gaze, strong and sure, bored into his. “Sam.”

  “Sam it is,” he agreed, wanting to whoop in victory as if he were a lovestruck boy. Pulling her near, he bit down on the inside of his lower lip to control his body’s reaction to her. She was supple, toned. As agile as he. She was a big-boned woman, graceful and lithe. Yet so lush she would make a beautiful jujun. Her breasts flush to his starched white shirt, he felt how ripe she was.

  A vision of her pebbly nipples jutting out from his rope had him perspiring, needing to fill his hands with her ample curves. Overcome, he pressed her to him more firmly. She surrendered to his lead, at least here on the dance floor, without strain or objection, floating on air in his arms. As the two of them swept the floor in a harmony he would have expected from a couple who had done this for decades, he realized she had flowed even nearer to him, taking her cues from every move of his muscles. And when the dance ended, her thighs were molded to his, one of his legs between hers, his erect cock nudging her belly.

  He hugged her good-naturedly, a show for the crowd. “I think you’d better not move for a minute.”

  “Help the mayor out?” she teased him.

  “You too. I can feel those hard nipples digging into my chest.”

  She let those sky-blue eyes wallow in his. “Guess we’d both better maintain our dignity.”

  “Wrapped up like this on the d
ance floor?” he joked, the tension of holding her so innocently firing all his senses. “No dignity about it.”

  “Do many know what you are?”

  “Mayor, rancher, Dom, nawashi? Only the members of the club know all my personas.”

  “How about the local women?”

  “If you’re asking if some jealous female is going to jump out of the crowd and attack me for holding you, the answer is no. No sub would. She’d know better. Besides, I haven’t seen anyone here tonight who’s ever been my jujun.”

  “Good to know.”

  He nestled his hips more closely against hers. His erection found a warm home plastered to her belly. “And you need to know I don’t get like this often. Or for many women.” He let the last word work down into her brain and when he saw it register, he softened into the regular guy he was here tonight. For the town.

  For her?

  She nodded, one warm hand flat to his chest, all right with the world again. “I want to say thanks for the rope tricks.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “You’re very open to a woman’s vibes.”

  Inside, he bristled with triumph. “I want to be more open to yours.”

  “I’d say you are doing just fine as you are.”

  His victory shattered. He scrambled, unaccustomed to being thwarted. “What does that mean? Come closer or stay away?”

  She inhaled so that he saw vividly how her skin pinked, her eyes darkened while she gathered strength to bargain with him. “I’m sure you’ll know when I’m ready for more. Men like you are good at that, aren’t you?”

  Men like him? That rubbed him the wrong way. He did not take kindly to being compared to anyone. “How many men like me do you know?”

  “A few.”

  “And one wasn’t good to you?”

  She set her jaw, glanced away.

  He licked his lower lip, tamping down the anger that made him see red. “Whoever the idiot was, I’ll make it my priority to beat the crap out of him.”

  “I’m sure you would.” She laughed.

  He loved the sound of it, loved the way it brightened her skin and widened her beautiful lips. He ran his fingers down her back, his touch soothing, her tension evaporating as he went.

  She tossed that mane of red hair, challenging him. “Can we have that drink now?”

  He took her arm, not about to let her get too far away now that time was on his side. Soon, he promised himself, she’d be in his arms again. Naked. On a bed. On the floor. Suspended in the air where she would soar as he pleasured her and himself. “Whatever you want.”

  She wanted a scotch, strong and straight. But she ordered a beer. Better to have her right mind dealing with Case Turner, man and mayor, than to be blasted and screw up her professional life as well as her private life. How much time did she have to prepare for him to come on to her? How much would he allow her? She wanted it to be minutes, knew it should be days. Better yet, never.

  I shouldn’t court disaster. Shouldn’t toy with acting like a sub to any man ever again.

  She and Case stood at the bar, telling stories about each other as if they were folks who had nothing more in common than the undeniable attraction that had them brushing hands and hips and thighs.

  You will go to bed with him.

  She just didn’t want the other. Couldn’t want it. Not until she figured out how essential submission was to her changing character.

  She surveyed the crowd, dancing, joking, getting smashed.

  “So why’d you go to law school?” he asked, drawing her back to the conversation, trading stories from college days—he at Texas Tech, she at UT in Austin.

  “I wanted to get rich.”

  “Why?”

  “Growing up dirt poor in Marfa makes a young girl yearn for mucho dinero.”

  “Are you rich now?”

  “Comfortable. The River Authority is my new incarnation. She who realized that money is not nirvana.”

  He scoffed, “What is?”

  She had tried mightily not to drown in those serene gray eyes of his, but the job was a giant one. She examined him now, hoping she wasn’t admiring him like a simpering child. “Service. Being useful for a public good.”

  He hitched up one corner of his mouth in a smile that made him appear endearing yet cocky. “What brought you to that conclusion?”

  “When I graduated, my specialty was corporate trademarks.”

  He winced. “Ouch.”

  “Hurts me to even utter the words. I had to fight with myself each morning just to get out of bed! To save my soul, I decided community service was a grand idea.”

  “Are you good at it?”

  She lifted her bottle and took a swig. Her smile challenged him. “I am. Very.”

  “Damn.”

  “You are forewarned.”

  “I aim to help you see why we need this higher allotment. It’s not just facts and figures on paper, but people’s lives we’re talking about. Our wells are running dry and that changes what folks do everyday. Like taking a bath and doing the laundry.”

  “I like a shower as much as the next girl,” she told him as she drew wet concentric circles on the bar with her beer. “But I have other counties I have to ensure get water too.”

  “Come out Monday with me,” he said in a tone that was half invitation, half command. “The rodeo will be over and I’ll have time to educate you properly. I want to show you what numbers on a sheet of paper can’t.”

  “Okay. It’s why I’m here.” I want to be with you. Learn from you.

  She shut her eyes a moment. Learn how to control my desire for you first!

  He squeezed her hand. “There’s more to us than what you see.”

  True. She lifted her beer bottle to clink against his. “Don’t I know.”

  “All right, you two.” Joel Winthrop stepped up to them. “What are you cookin’?”

  Case turned, elbows to the bar, one boot to the rail. “We’re discussing going out to look at the reservoir Monday morning.”

  “I suspect you need company,” Joel announced. Then to Case he said, “Samantha knows I’m one of the county councilmen. She needs city and county input.”

  “What do you say then, Sam?” Case asked her, his brows drawn together in the vaguest of frowns. Competition, then, was not one of his favored activities. “Shall we have Joel too?”

  Her first priority was to do her job well, have all the facts, all the insights she could summon. “Yes, of course. The two of you. Monday it is.”

  “Eight o’clock. Before it gets too hot.” Case pushed away from the bar, leaving her to Joel.

  “That’s Sam’s birthday,” Joel put in.

  Sam noted Case’s surprise as she agreed that Monday was still a good day to do this.

  “We’ll have to think of something to celebrate then,” Case assured her.

  “Oh there is no need for that. It’s just another—”

  “No it isn’t,” Case laid down the law. “Birthdays are meant to be enjoyed.”

  Joel grinned. “The three of us will make it a day.”

  “I want to work,” she insisted. “Work.”

  Case put up a hand to ease her fears. “Okay, we’ll work. I’ll pick you up at your B&B. Wear jeans and low-heeled boots.” His gaze ran down her legs with a torrid appreciation that could have scorched the denim right off her.

  “I’ll be ready,” she told him. “To work.”

  “Fine.” Case trained a steely gaze on his friend. “I’ve got a few things I have to do. See you then, Sam. I leave you in good hands, don’t I, Joel?”

  “As always.” Joel followed Case’s departing figure with a narrow-eyed scowl.

  Sam winced. Something secret was communicated there between the men. Case played it like a gentleman. Joel had tried, but failed.

  For sure, if their conflict was innocuous, if they bought her a birthday cake, she was going to make them eat it all by their lonesomes. Whatever else they might have
in store, now that was a mystery she didn’t know how to solve.

  Chapter Three

  Monday morning, Sam heard a truck pull up the driveway of the bed and breakfast where she was staying and rushed to the front window in her room. The sight of Case, tall and broad in the driver’s seat, set her heart thumping. She had caught glimpses of him during the past few days at the rodeo grounds. But as mayor of the town officiating at a few of the events—and as a rancher with cattle and horses in the fair competitions—he seemed fully occupied. That was fine by her. She needed time to rev herself up to be in his company. His intense virility challenged her as much as it intrigued her. By Monday morning, she was focused, alive with excitement to be with him.

  A quick check of herself in the antique cheval mirror told her she was ready for her morning with him. For a woman who prided herself on killer suits and helmet hair for her job, she presented the opposite look. With a t-shirt and jeans, ponytail and a dusting of mascara and lipstick, she appeared more like the average Texas girl who’d grown up in the barren western plains. She didn’t look like the hardheaded attorney she had first presented to Case. But then from his rope trick at the rodeo Friday night he had learned she was as soft as mush.

  His tricks had told her much about him. How he saw her, torn between the submission she had learned to crave and the surrender she now feared to give. But she’d decided after Friday night’s rope tricks that she would open herself up to Case. Unfurl that half of her that she had shut down after her experience in Austin last summer with a Dom gone badass. If she could only control Case, appeal to him to let her ease into their relationship.

  Relationship, hell. What she wanted with him was sweet, sweaty sex. And if she liked that, she might be able to stand the ropes. She wanted to. And who better to do that with than a nawashi who practiced the long, slow ascent to nirvana and shuddering sensual fulfillment?

  Clenching her fists with determination to talk to him about it, she opened her door and strode out to meet him.

  “Right on time.” She met him halfway down the walkway, ordering herself not to ogle him. He was a big scrumptious hunk of man in a blue plaid long-sleeved shirt and work denims that had been washed so often they fit his legs as if he’d been born in them. The final touch of power was his black snakeskin boots, carved to a fare-thee-well by a skilled artist.