Branded as Trouble (Rough Riders #6)(96)

“I’ll bite you back. And you already know how much I like your ass.”


She screamed with frustration, pummeling her fists into his butt.


By the time they’d reached the truck, she’d quit flailing. She had a tight grip on his belt loops. “Are you gonna run if I put you down?”


“No.”


Colt slid his hands up to brace her back as he lowered her feet to the ground. “Sugar, look at me.”


She was breathing raggedly, more out of anger than exertion.


Her head fell back.


Their eyes met. And Colt was lost.


“Sweet Jesus, India, when you look at me like that…”


“Like what?”


Like you love me. Like I’m a man worthy of you.


But he suspected she didn’t know everything he’d ever wanted was visible in her eyes. So he backtracked—chickened out really—and focused on the one thing she would admit to: overpowering lust.


“Like you want to fight me and then f*ck me.”


India didn’t deny it.


“Are we done with the fightin’ portion? Cause I’d sure like to f*ck you. Right here, right now. Against the dirty truck as you’re shootin’ me dirty looks.”


Her response? She launched herself at him. Her mouth slammed into his in a kiss so raw it felt as if she’d knocked the wind out of him.


Colt pushed her against the pickup. His hands raced everywhere as he tried to find a single section of her skin. Dammit, of all the times to be buttoned-up. He hooked his fingers at the hem of her shirt, between the lapels, and jerked until buttons flew and her warm flesh greeted his eager hands.


India didn’t protest, in fact, ruining her shirt only made her kiss him harder. Her hands dove into his hair. Not for a leisurely, tender stroking, but she pulled his hair into tight fists as her lower body ground against his fly.


Goddamn he wanted to suck on her skin. Mark her. Bite her, but the ferocity of the kiss made it impossible for him to release her lips even momentarily. He growled in her mouth, bumping his cock into her belly. His hands scraped up her back, maneuvering around to cup her breasts. When his thumbs rasped over her nipples, he didn’t feel the rings.


When he broke his mouth free and he ate a path down her throat, she arched, baring all to him. One tug and her bra cups opened. Rather than look, he let his mouth do the walking, straight to her left nipple.


Yes. A ring. A smaller one than what she’d been wearing, but she hadn’t taken it out in a fit of propriety. He sucked and lapped and bit and worshiped that tiny bit of metal until she moaned. He suckled her breast deep enough the ring tickled the back of his tongue. Another moan escaped as he switched to the other side and did it again and again and again.



“Colt. I need…”


“What?”


“You. I need you.”


“You’ve got me.”


His cock, already straining behind his zipper, jerked when India’s hands dropped to his waistband. She unhooked the belt buckle, popped the button and eased down the zipper. Her fingers snaked into his boxers and she circled her hand around him and squeezed.


Colt hissed at the intense pleasure. Feeling the velvety smoothness of her palm on his shaft. The tightness of her grip as she stroked from the base to the wet tip.


“Lift me against the door. You wanted to f*ck me so bad, do it.