Pushin' Buttons (Boot Knockers) (10 page)

“Not your business,” Riggs stated, low and with enough menace to let Paul know if he wanted to go outside and do that fist tango, he had his dancing shoes on. “I’ll do what I damn well please with the ranch and horses. Stay out of my way.”

A challenge lived in Paul’s gaze. Then he flicked his jaw toward Hugh. “Maybe your time is better spent
inside
.”

Several years of animosity ripped away Riggs’s control. Couple that with Hugh being glued to Sibyll’s side, and Sibyll giving Hugh those soft doe-eyes that made Riggs see green, he lost it.

He slapped his hands on the table. The chatter in the room stilled. “You want to discuss this outside?”

Paul flexed his fingers, an all-too-familiar sneer curling his lip. “You bet your ass.”

As Paul and Riggs left the grub house, silence was an impenetrable wall behind them. Once the door closed, there was a clamor inside as the diners rushed to the windows.

“Might as well give ’em a good show,” Riggs drawled, shooting a glance at the faces pressed to the glass. Hugh and Sibyll weren’t in sight, thank God. Hugh had seen Riggs get his nose bloodied more than once, but he didn’t want Sibyll to witness it. He liked her too much.

No, more than liked her. Time to own up to his infatuation. Maybe it was due to her being in Hugh’s bed, but Riggs didn’t think so. He wanted to sample every inch of her while exploring the intelligence he saw in her eyes.

Paul began to circle, crouching low.

Riggs watched him, half amused. “The fuck’s your problem, anyway, Paul? Why are you always begging me to kick your ass?”

“Better than you begging for yours to be fucked,” Paul taunted.

It didn’t bother Riggs that the guy knew he found men attractive and acted on it. What bothered him was the hatred oozing from the words.

Riggs slowly removed his hat so it wouldn’t get crushed. He had a soft spot for that black Stetson. When he finally leveled his gaze at Paul, he drawled, “You jealous I ain’t asking you to join me?”

Paul paled, looking like a cornered animal. “You motherfucker!” He launched at Riggs.

Riggs threw himself forward, catching Paul around the middle. They hit the turf hard, Riggs’s shoulder taking most of the weight. He grunted and rolled, using the strength in his legs to lock Paul to the ground.

The man writhed and struck out, catching Riggs in the jaw. Riggs stretched his mouth around the pain to dispel it.

Behind them the door opened. Riggs felt people watching.

“I’m gonna teach you a lesson, you sorry excuse for your daddy’s sperm,” Riggs spat, nailing Paul in the gut.

The man bucked Riggs off and dragged himself to his feet, coughing around the blow. Riggs waved at him. “Come on. You know by now I don’t back down. Come get your ass whooping. You seem to need it often enough.”

“Those are my horses, my barns. My field.” Paul rubbed his flat abs and straightened to his full height. When he advanced, Riggs was ready.

Hugh called out, “Don’t hurt him too bad. I don’t want to pay the emergency room bills, Archer.” His use of his last name settled like a warm haze around Riggs’s brain.

With a flick of his head in acknowledgment, Riggs swung his fist. Paul sidestepped, avoiding the arc of his fist meant for his nose. But Riggs aimed a knee at his gut. At the last minute Paul twisted, and Riggs’s knee jabbed right into his nuts.

Paul dropped with a squeak.

“That’ll be enough,” Hugh said, amusement tingeing his tone.

A smatter of applause sounded. Riggs threw one final glare at Paul, who’d managed to work out a bit of Riggs’s frustrations.

“Thanks for the fight. Same time next week?” Riggs didn’t expect a response—he didn’t think Paul could even draw breath yet.

Without a backward glance, he pivoted and stalked off to the bunkhouse, but not before he saw the gleam of respect in Hugh’s eyes and the warmth in Sibyll’s.

Chapter Six

Hugh held the truck door open for Sibyll. She gawked at the high step.

He chuckled. “Grab the handle inside.”

She did and was able to pull herself into the truck. Why did guys have such big trucks? Was it a competition she didn’t know about?

When she tucked her feet into the cab, Hugh shot her a grin and closed the door. She watched him circle the truck, stunned by the way he moved and how handsome he was.

Not just handsome—sexy. And he was devoted to her for a whole week.

Clamping her thighs together, she drew in a deep breath of the leather-and-musk-scented air. The interior was dust-free, the floors swept. Pride of ownership was evident.

As Hugh settled into the driver’s seat, Sibyll’s nerves resurfaced. Around him it was easy to let her insecurities carry her away.

He rested a heavy, warm hand on her thigh, and suddenly a sharp ache replaced her jitters.

“Where are we going?”

“Taking a drive on some country roads. Is that okay?” His expression told her he knew she wouldn’t refuse.

She smiled at his cockiness. “It’s fine with me.”

He started the truck and began rolling straight down the gravel drive. He really knew what he was doing—making her feel safe, secure and horny around him all at once. But the warm blossom in her chest was a surprise all over again. She’d been feeling it off and on but had chalked it up to lust.

Don’t mistake this for more.
All she needed was a crush on a man she wouldn’t see after six days.

He didn’t pull his hand off her thigh. In fact, his fingers dangled dangerously close to her pussy. Need rattled her, and she meshed her fingers to keep from doing all the bad things in her mind.

Like slide into his lap, for one.

They bumped down the driveway and made a left onto another gravel road. On either side, small clumps of horses grazed. Miles of fence stretched into the distance.

Her mind returned to Riggs. Something about the man enthralled her. Was it the way he avoided looking at her? Or the fact that he’d fought for her in the first place?

And the things the other cowboy had said about Riggs and Hugh…were they true? Were they lovers?

A small shiver ran through Sibyll.

“You chilly?”

“Not a bit.” Her voice came out too breathlessly.

Hugh squeezed her upper thigh, slow and with enough pressure to arouse. Her panties today were fine silk in a vivid emerald hue—and totally worthless when she’d been soaking wet since setting eyes on him.

She sneaked a peek at his profile. “So Riggs takes care of the horses?”

When Hugh riveted her in his gaze, she stopped breathing. Was that irritation she saw in his eyes? “Yeah, we all do, but Riggs and I more than others.”

Questions leaped to her closed lips, demanding she free them. Hugh squeezed her thigh again. “Look, I know you want to ask. I can see your wheels turning.”

Heat flamed in her face. She lowered her eyes. “I don’t know what you mean.”

He gave a quiet snort of amusement. “Baby, we have a short time together. You came here to take what you want. So have a cookie if you want a cookie.”

Something about the way he said that sent liquid heat rushing between her thighs. “Is that what you do?”

A smile toyed with the corners of his lips, making him look even more disreputable. Like he’d just committed a crime and gotten away with it—naked. “Have a cookie?” he drawled.

“Yes,” she whispered.

He slowed the truck, barely glancing at the straight stretch they were driving. “Wanna ask that question in another way?”

God, he was serious about making her ask for what she wanted. Staring through the windshield at the landscape that was so different from Atlanta, she formulated the question in her mind.

After a minute, she asked, “Is it true what he said about you and Riggs?”

Hugh’s fingers convulsed on her thigh. For a heartbeat, she thought he’d pull his hand away. Then he braked and captured her gaze. When he answered, each word dropped into her bottomless well of wanting.

“Riggs and I have sex, yes. And we share women.”

Oh my God. What has he done to me?

Never in her life had she entertained the notion of having a threesome. She could barely handle one man let alone two. But the idea of Riggs and Hugh climbing into bed with her, hemming her in with muscle and heated looks, made her squirm.

Hugh’s eyes darkened. Or were his pupils dilated?

“You like that, don’t you?”

She didn’t want to continue with this conversation. “I…what do you mean?”

“The thought of me and Riggs together. Or is it the thought of being shared?” He dragged out the shh sound in “shared,” sending her into overdrive.

Hugh fingered her jaw, lifting her face to meet his gaze. “You ever make out in a truck, baby?”

“N-noo.”

“Let’s try.” He leaned close, letting his breath wash over her lips. Uncontrollable need tore through her. Without thought, she looped an arm around his neck and hauled his lips to hers.

His rumble of satisfaction sent that fire racing through her system. With one hand on her nape, he cupped her breast with the other. Tingles tightened her nipples. When he plucked at the hard bud, she moaned.

“So responsive. God, I love it.” He slid his finger between the buttons on her blouse and caressed the swell of her breast. She pressed closer.

He popped her button. Then another.

By the time her top hung open, she could think of nothing but extinguishing this extreme throb in her core. Hugh had taken her so close. Maybe this was the time, the place.

When he didn’t touch her breasts and simply looked at her with hooded eyes, she realized he was going to make her ask for that cookie.

Suddenly images of Hugh and Riggs together, muscles bunching as they stroked each other’s cocks, set her blazing.

“Tell me what you want, baby.”

Her vocal cords froze. She stared at him.

“Those baby blues aren’t going to convince me. Talk to me.” How did he pitch his voice into the perfect sandpaper-rough stroke against her psyche?

She opened her mouth but nothing came out.

“You want this?” With a fingertip, he circled her nipple. It pebbled, and she gasped.

He pulled his finger away. “Sibyll?”

Tipping forward, she sought to hide her face. Being exposed to him in every way was too much for a quiet scientist from Atlanta. It was bad enough she was sitting in the front of a truck with her top open, panting for control she’d never find on this ranch.

“More,” she rasped.

Hugh’s chest vibrated, then it turned into a groan. He gripped the door handle and vanished from the truck cab. Before she guessed his intentions, he came around to her door. As he opened it, she quivered.

When he pulled her into his arms, she gave up pretending she didn’t need him—now.

Between toe-curling kisses, he reached behind her seat and hauled out a blanket. The fence separating the road from the pasture was nothing to scale when she had a man who looked like a bodybuilder to lift her over it.

Tall grasses kissed her calves. She watched as he shook the blanket and sent it parachuting in the breeze. Perspiration trickled down his throat and dampened his T-shirt collar.

Once the blanket was spread on the ground, he gave her a dark look. “Get on your knees.”

Want speared her.
Mercy, what have I done?

She kicked off her flip-flops and lowered herself. Hugh drifted close, bringing his hips within grabbing distance.

“Tell me what you’re going to do to me, baby.” His voice was hoarse.

She licked her lips. Earlier in the shower she’d acted on instinct. Could she do that again?

Glancing up at his expression, intense with need, she realized he wanted that. And giving him what he wanted was an incredible turn-on.

Out here in the open, she abandoned her stuffy ways. She was here to explore, and if that meant going down on Hugh off the side of an isolated road, she would.

Reaching up, she clamped her fingers on his hips. The denim was peachy-soft from wear. Hugh gazed at her and tangled a hand in her hair.

“Tell me.”

“I’m going to…open your jeans.” Her heart slammed her ribs.

“Uh-huh. Then?”

She fumbled with his belt buckle. After popping the button, she took hold of the zipper, aware of his gaze, hotter than the pounding afternoon sun.

“Pull out your… Oh my God.” He wasn’t wearing underwear again.

“Mmm. I can see you like that, baby.” He stroked her earlobe, over the simple gold stud she wore.

“Like” was an understatement. Being presented with all that male goodness was like scratching off a winning lottery ticket.

“Go on,” he urged. Was that tenderness she detected in his tone? No, it was lust, pure and simple. He was getting off on her wanting him.

And she was getting off on that too.

Her need mounted to a painful ache. She reached inside his jeans and pulled out his thick shaft. The tip glistened with pre-come.