Shadow Maverick Ranch Box Set Page 22

  Her nipples tightened to tender points. Her wrists burned under the heat of his hands. She imagined him holding her down, taking what he needed as he gave her the same. Hard. Fast. Complete. Her throat tightened. “I didn’t come here to chat,” she choked out.

  His hungry, knowing smile stole her breath.

  “Right. You came here to fuck.” He leaned in until his breath tickled her skin. Her eyes drifted closed as he traced the shell of her ear with his tongue and nibbled her lobe. “We’ll get to that part, Ainsley. Believe me.”

  She wanted to believe him. Wanted to lose herself in his wicked promise. She’d been around long enough to hear of his reputation for being a player, for not getting attached, and that certainly suited her needs.

  He trailed his lips down the side of her neck, placing an open-mouthed kiss where her pulse beat heavy in her throat. Ainsley’s knees weakened when he sucked then gently nipped the sensitive skin. With very little effort, he’d found her weak spot. As though he’d instinctively known where to go to get what he wanted.

  Her land.

  Her home.

  Ainsley growled her frustration. He didn’t want her—he wanted her compliant in order to convince her to sell.

  She shoved him. The big brute didn’t even budge. Breathless from his sensual assault, she cleared her throat and prayed her voice wouldn’t shake.

  “I didn’t come here to fuck, you jerk. I came here to—” She clamped her lips shut. Oh no. Her cash flow problems weren’t his business. She wasn’t about to give him more ammunition.

  “Came here to what? Swindle innocent cowboys out of their money?”

  “I’m just having a good time like everyone else,” she hedged. “Is it my fault those boys suck at pool? And that bunch is hardly innocent, I assure you. If you’d heard the offers a couple of them made…” Ainsley shook her head, feigning regret. “Looks like I made the wrong choice.”

  Clayton’s expression darkened—intoxicating hunger receding to angry male. “I’m going to assume you meant no offense.”

  “Assume all you like. It won’t change the end result. Even if you weren’t the most annoyingly arrogant man I’ve ever met, your family wants my ranch.” The only home Ainsley ever had.

  “Since when did it become a crime to want to buy property? People do it all the time.”

  If only things were that simple. Ainsley was hanging on by the skin of her teeth. The vultures were circling, waiting to swoop in and take everything away from her.

  Ainsley had a real chance to put down roots here. She was out of her league, but she was smart. She worked hard. And she never went down without a fight.

  “If you think sleeping with me is going to get you closer to your goal, you’re dead wrong. You can’t have my land, and you won’t have me.”

  His lips quirked. “You’re the one who started this, sweetheart. Or have you forgotten? I’ll bet you haven’t. I’ll bet your hot little body craves what I can give it, just as mine craves yours.”

  The air turned stifling hot. No man had ever craved her before. Ainsley struggled to breathe through the sexual energy radiating from the rugged cowboy and shooting straight to her core.

  Her body knew she hadn’t chosen wrong. The evidence of his arousal pressed against her belly, feverish and hard. She could almost feel the impressive length stretching her, filling her. The warmth of his mouth on her breasts. His calloused hands on her skin. It had been so long. Her body ached to be touched.

  And Clayton Mathis was the last cowboy she should let touch her.

  “Sit down, Ainsley.” He directed her back to her chair, releasing her only as her butt hit the seat.

  Ainsley rubbed her wrists. He hadn’t hurt her. Quite the contrary. The heat from his grip lingered as if he’d branded her.

  “Are all you Mathis boys bullies?” she snapped, willing her body to chill the hell out.

  Clayton frowned. “I know my brother can come on strong. Has he said or done anything to hurt you?”

  The genuine concerned that wrinkled his handsome brow threatened to melt her heart. No one had ever cared about her before. Only that she stayed quiet and out of the way. When she hadn’t, no one cared about the hurt that followed.

  She didn’t know what to do with the emotions rioting inside her: anger, need, wonder. She stared at her lap. His boots. The legs of the chair he moved closer to her. The strong thighs suddenly bracketing her knees.

  A warm knuckle lifted her chin. “Ainsley? Has Gavin done something I should know about?”

  As if she were any of Clayton’s concern. She swallowed back the longing that had plagued her for as long as she could remember. She jerked her face away from his touch. “Not that it matters, but no. He’s a pain in my ass, nothing more.”

  “What do you mean? Of course it matters.”

  This was ridiculous. Clayton didn’t really care about her. The longer she sat there and pretended he could, the more trouble she’d cause herself later. She should leave. “You mean to tell me if I said your brother had hurt me in some way, you’d believe it?”

  He took her hands in his, cradling them against her thighs. His thumbs brushed over her knuckles. “Do I believe Gavin would intentionally cause you any harm? No, I don’t. He’s a good man. I’m saying Gavin and I would have a conversation about it. I’m saying if there’s offense, I’d make it right. Gavin would make it right.”

  The man continued to shock her. Which, Ainsley was certain, was the only reason she remained in the chair instead of heading out the door.

  What would it be like to have that kind of belief in someone? To love so unconditionally?

  “Why would you do that?”

  He traced the sensitive skin between her fingers, one after the other, as he embarked on a gentle exploration of her hands.

  A rush of pleasure followed each stroke, leaving behind tiny bumps along her skin.

  He shrugged. “I just would.”

  Damn him. Because he was trying to soften her toward his family. Because they wanted something from her.

  She jerked her hands away. “Great. Thanks. I appreciate the sentiment, but I can handle my own affairs.”

  His wicked grin was back. “Can you now?”

  “Yes, I can. And that means we’ve got nothing left to say.”

  “Come on, Ainsley. You’re blowing this out of proportion. I’m not the enemy here. The business between you and my brother has nothing to do with me.”

  Clayton didn’t seem the kind of guy who’d have a hard time finding female company. Ainsley could count at least three pairs of eyes glued to the sexy cowboy, and those were just from the table next to them. No doubt he could walk out of here with any woman he wanted, and probably would once he realized his hard-sell approach wouldn’t work for him any more than it had worked for Gavin.

  “Are you joking? Your name is Mathis, right?”

  His stubborn chin rose. “And damn proud of it. That doesn’t mean I get involved in Gavin’s business.”

  Right. “You have no interest whatsoever?”

  “Interest. Involved. Two different things. The herd is my business. Whether it’s four hundred head, or forty thousand, makes me no never mind. I go where the cattle are, darlin’. Gavin takes care of the rest.”

  Ainsley didn’t believe for a second things were that cut and dried over at Shadow Maverick Ranch. She hadn’t been in town fifteen minutes before rumors about the tight-knit Mathis family filled her ears. After six months, Ainsley had a good idea how things worked. Thick as thieves, they were. As, she admitted, a family should be.

  Damn it! They could be naked and sweaty in the cab of his truck right now. Why couldn’t he have kept his tempting mouth shut? Ainsley knew why and it pissed her off even more. She didn’t want to feel anything for this man. Not the lust searing her veins, and not the gratitude that warmed her chest. The son of a bitch had given her a choice when he could’ve taken advantage. She would’ve fucked him without his name, and he hadn’t let her
. His conscience really put a damper on her night.

  “That’s good to know. Gavin’s in charge. You’re the ranch hand.” Conscience or not, no man enjoyed a poke at his ego.

  Clayton eased back in his chair, the tight set of his jaw making her wonder if she’d pushed too hard. “You know, I’m beginning to think you’re deliberately trying to aggravate me. While I can think of a much better use for that aggression, I’m intrigued. What are you so afraid of? What’s going on over at your place that has my brother convinced you need to sell? There must be some reason he hasn’t taken no for an answer.”

  A vulture following a scent.

  According to Mr. Sutherland, Ainsley was broke. She was nothing if not determined, and she’d do whatever she had to do to keep the ranch, including beating not-so-innocent cowboys out of their beer money if she needed cash for groceries.

  She stood. “I suspect because stubborn runs in your family, but why don’t you ask him? As for me? I’m leaving.”

  If she had any hope of keeping her home, she needed to stay focused. Not give Clayton any ammunition to take back to his brother to use against her. Maybe even force her to sell, if such a thing was possible.

  “You can run away this time, Ainsley, but I promise you, this isn’t over.”

  “Don’t kid yourself, cowboy. This never got started.”

  #

  Never got started, his ass.

  They’d been blazing ten thousand miles an hour, straight into the sun.

  Clay watched as Ainsley’s sweet little ass disappeared out the front door. The woman had spunk, he’d give her that. She had something else, too. Something he couldn’t quite put his finger on, but knew he wanted more.

  Of all the women he could’ve gotten tangled up with… Jesus, the woman pushed his buttons. She pissed him off and revved him up.

  A fucking ranch hand.

  He chuckled. Oh, she was a wildcat, all right. And if she thought she’d seen the last of him, pretty little Ainsley Russell was in for a rude awakening.

  Offering his name had been the right thing to do. He hadn’t been completely honest about not getting involved in ranch business. Adding the Nelson Ranch to their holdings would be no small undertaking. A decision of that magnitude wasn’t something Gavin could make on his own. Clay had been on board, but it seemed Ainsley had other ideas. She refused to sell and had developed a disdain for his family she’d been quick to share with Gavin, who in turn had shared with the rest of them.

  So, why was Gavin trying so hard to change her mind? Clay wondered if the answer had anything to do with the animosity Ainsley felt toward his family. Something that hadn’t been his problem. Until now.

  No doubt, Ainsley would’ve been hotter than a two-peckered alley cat if she’d found out who he was after they’d fucked. But damn, doing the right thing sucked for his balls.

  He wasn’t the only one who hadn’t been honest tonight. She said she’d made a mistake, but her pert little nipples told a different story. He’d bet his left nut her panties were as drenched as his dick was hard.

  A shot glass wandered into his line of sight. Clay accepted the glass and turned to see Dakota’s smirk.

  “That was quick. Strike out already?”

  Clay tossed the shot back. The tequila did nothing to quench his thirst. Clay clapped Dakota on the shoulder. “No worries, my friend. I’m just gettin’ warmed up.”

  Chapter Four

  Ainsley hadn’t slept a wink.

  Lying in her cold, lonely bed, she’d been haunted by the feel of warm, calloused hands. By dark, sensual eyes and sinful lips. After staring at the bedroom ceiling for an hour, she’d retreated to the couch, which only managed to change her view, not the sexual wandering of her brain. The sky had begun to lighten in the east by the time she’d finally dozed off. It hadn’t lasted long. A couple of hours of tossing and turning on the ancient couch, springs poking at her ribcage, and she gave up.

  Ainsley slid from the couch and padded on bare feet across the marred hardwood floor. She stepped wide over the threshold to the kitchen, avoiding the seam of damaged linoleum. She’d learned that lesson the hard way. She was cranky enough without starting her day nursing a sliced-open foot.

  The kitchen was large, with plenty of windows to let in the natural light now that she’d removed the curtains and left them bare. The yellow Formica countertops were chipped and stained. There was no microwave, but after a lifetime of heat-and-eat, Ainsley preferred to cook her meals the old fashioned way—on appliances the same color of brown as the cabinets. And she ate her meals at the faux wood table with metal legs that had four matching chairs.

  Her uncle hadn’t updated the place in more than forty years, but Ainsley couldn’t care less. The house was old and in desperate need of repair, but it was clean. It was hers.

  Clayton Mathis remained front and center on her mind as she grabbed the copper canister where she kept the coffee. She spent the first half of the night convincing herself she’d done the right thing walking away from him. The other half of the night she spent cursing her own stupidity. A body like his promised hours of distraction. A distraction he’d been more than willing to provide. One she well and truly needed.

  And she’d told him no.

  Ainsley wondered who’d told him yes.

  She flicked open the lid to the coffeemaker and scooped grounds into a filter.

  No doubt some dolled-up, curvy, well-endowed redhead. All of the things Ainsley wasn’t.

  She filled the carafe with water, poured it in, and then mashed the power switch a little harder than necessary. The coffeemaker sputtered to life as she crossed her arms and leaned her hip against the counter.

  Clayton was probably still with her—the slutty little redhead. She probably had her naked body draped over him, whispering trash in his ear and believing she’d been his first choice for a bed partner, when, in fact, she hadn’t.

  Whoa. Bitch alert.

  Ainsley groaned at the ceiling. What the heck was the matter with her? She’d never had possessive, jealous feelings about a man before. Clearly, lack of caffeine and sleep had made her delirious.

  A car pulled up the drive. Ainsley glared out of the kitchen window. Unless the person who drove the fancy sports car had a stash of ready-made coffee in the trunk, she had no interest in a chat. Not this early in the morning and definitely not with the suit-wearing corporate type who stretched from a car much too small to contain the ego that poured out with him.

  She so wasn’t in the mood for this shit.

  Grabbing the shotgun she kept by the front door, Ainsley navigated the rotting boards of the porch with practiced ease, giving little consideration to the fact she wore only a flimsy pair of sleep shorts and a braless tank top.

  “Can I help you?” Jesus, it was humid. Looked as if she was in for another miserable day with her air conditioner on the fritz.

  She leaned against the porch rail and rested the barrel of the gun against her shoulder. It wasn’t loaded. Shells cost money, and the few she had were for true emergencies.

  She was a woman alone, a good fifteen minutes from the nearest neighbor. It paid to show a semblance of strength, even if it was a bluff.

  Her visitor stopped in his tracks. His hand came up, and he waggled what looked to be a business card between his fingers. “I’m Michael Johnson from Aristo Industries, ma’am.”

  Polite, but calling her ma’am wouldn’t win him any brownie points. “There a reason you’re on my property before breakfast time, Mr. Johnson? And on a Sunday, no less?”

  Ainsley had a pretty good idea of what his answer would be.

  Mr. Johnson sniffed and tucked the card back into his pocket. “Obviously, I wish to speak with you about an important business matter. I chose a time most promising to catch you available.”

  More like he thought to catch her off balance.

  His arrogant tone grated on her nerves. She needed a cup of coffee before she could think straight, and this jackas
s wanted to talk while her pot still brewed? Not happening.

  “I’m not selling my land, Mr. Johnson. I’m sorry, but you’ve wasted your time coming out here.”

  He turned at the sound of a vehicle coming up the drive.

  What the hell?

  Ainsley watched with stunned disbelief as a large, white pickup—its doors emblazoned with the Shadow Maverick Ranch brand—eased to a stop between her and the fancy sports car.

  Great. Just what she needed. Another arrogant male to deal with. Doesn’t anyone sleep in on Sunday anymore?

  At least this put to rest her vision of Clayton lingering with the slutty redhead. If there had even been a slutty redhead. God help her, she hoped not.

  “I strongly advise you to reconsider, Ms. Russell.” Mr. Johnson turned back to her, dismissing the truck all together. “I’m prepared to make you a handsome offer.”

  Ainsley held her tongue as Clayton emerged from the truck. He removed his hat and tossed it onto the seat before slamming the door shut. His midnight hair fell in sexy disarray over his forehead. She forced herself to stop gawking at the way his tight gray T-shirt stretched over his muscular chest and focused instead on the weasel in front of her.

  “You, personally, or your company?”

  Mr. Johnson huffed, causing his cheeks to jiggle. He pulled a handkerchief from his jacket and dabbed at the perspiration on his face. “My company, of course.”

  Of course.

  Clayton sauntered around the front of the truck. Tight jeans hugged muscled thighs as he rested a boot against the bottom porch step. He made no move to climb the steps to join her.

  “Mornin’, Ainsley.” The rich, deep timbre washed over her like warm honey. He raised a brow at the gun she now cradled. “Everything okay?”

  Despite the heat, her nipples tightened against the soft cotton of her tank. Fantasies from her sleepless night jumped front and center. Clayton’s mouth on every inch of her body, tasting, sucking, driving her crazy for his possession. “Everything is fine, Clayton. Thank you,” she ground out.