Hell on Heels (Hotel Rodeo #1)(46)

“I—I can’t.”

“Yes you can, Monica.” His gaze locked with hers, refusing to let her go. “You’re coming home with me. I promised to show you the view.”

“But I thought it was supposed to be your closely guarded secret.”

“Some secrets are meant to be shared.”

She swallowed hard and tried again. “What about your standing rule about taking women home?”

His mouth twitched. “I’ve lived my whole life breaking other people’s rules. Maybe it’s time to break one of mine.”

“I don’t think this is a good idea. Not for me. Not for either of us.”

“I’ve said it before, Monica. You think too much.”

Frankie opened her door with an expectant look.

Just as she turned toward the limo, Ty’s hands anchored on her waist. He dipped his head, his lips passing over her skin, traveling slowly from neck to ear. She froze in her tracks.

“I want you to come home with me tonight, Monica.” His words pushed her over the edge. “I want you in my bed tonight, and I want to wake up buried deep inside you.”

Her gaze never breaking from Ty’s, she sucked in a breath and dismissed her driver. “I don’t need the ride after all, Frankie. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?’

“Sure thing, Ms. Brandt,” Frankie flashed Ty a knowing grin and closed the car door.



For twenty minutes Monica sat tense in the passenger seat while Ty darted periodic looks in her direction. As if in tacit agreement, neither made any effort to break the silence. The passing minutes only ramped the tension—and the anticipation that coiled low and deep in her belly. There was no question about what was going to happen between them. Only the when . . . and the how.

It was dark when they pulled into his drive, but security lighting revealed an adobe-style villa surrounded by a xeriscape of flagstones and flowering cacti. Ty helped her down from the truck and then grabbed her bags.

“Wow! It’s not at all what I expected,” she said.

“Oh yeah? And how’s that?”

She laughed. “It’s so . . . so . . . pink.”

“It’s adobe actually, but real men aren’t threatened by pastels,” he quipped back. “C’mon inside.” Ty punched a security code into a keypad and opened double doors into a spacious great room. In contrast with the exterior, the slate floors, wood-beamed ceiling, and dark leather furniture were entirely masculine.

Ty carried her bags into what she presumed must be the bedroom while she explored the house. The great room led to a dining room that opened into a large kitchen that could have been featured in a home-décor magazine. It was a beautiful house. She marveled that he would choose to spend most of his nights at the hotel—and then considered the obvious reason why.

He didn’t bring women to his home, a thought she was quick to dismiss.

Ty came from behind and spun her around. “How fortunate that I found you in here.” His husky voice dripped with honey.

“In the kitchen? Why’s that?” she asked.

“Because you deprived me of something I wanted at dinner.” He backed her slowly up to the counter, his eyes glimmering with a predatory look that made her a little breathless.

“Oh? And that was . . . ?”

Her sex pulsed with her beating heart as he hoisted her onto the breakfast bar and dragged her ass to the edge of the cold, hard granite. His mouth was hot and hungry on hers, his tongue a dangerous distraction as his hands crept under her skirt to remove her panties. Her legs quivered as he spread her wide. His lips twitched as he finally answered, “Dessert.”

His mouth was on her before she could utter her next breath, licking and sucking like a hungry cat devouring cream. Within seconds he had her bucking, writhing, and pleading. “Please Ty,” she sobbed. “I want . . . I need . . . pleeease.”

“Please what? Finish you or f*ck you? The choice is yours, sweetheart.”

“I want you to f*ck me, Ty,” she panted with a needy ache that only Ty had ever inspired.

“Good answer.” He abruptly stood and lifted her from the counter.

“B-but aren’t you . . . aren’t we?”

“Not here.” He shook his head with a grin. “I’m a real traditional kinda guy. I like to eat in my kitchen. I like to f*ck in a bed.” Wrapping her legs around his waist, he carried her to the bedroom, where he dropped her on the mattress. He quickly toed off his boots and went to work on his clothes. “Your turn,” he said. “Take it all off.”

She watched him watching her, as she removed her white blouse and lacy bra, and then shimmied out of her skirt. She then lay back on the pillows, lust smoldering deep in her belly as he stroked his cock and sheathed himself in latex.

Arching her back and jutting her breasts, she smiled in invitation. “Whatcha waiting for? C’mon, cowboy, gimme all you’ve got.”



Her eyes, glittering with lust, and her playful come-hither smile were almost too much for Ty. He didn’t understand why Monica was so different, but every time with her he felt something brand-new. His mind was almost exploding with all the things he still wanted to do to her, but he liked her show of boldness and wondered what she’d do if he let her take the lead.