Tied Up, Tied Down (Rough Riders #4)(8)

In record time he’d stepped up on the running board, unbuckled, unzipped, shoved his Wranglers to the tops of his boots and levered himself over her.

Skylar circled her legs around his waist and canted her pelvis for easier and faster entry, mindful of not nicking him with the razor-thin heels of her red stilettos. Her fingers dug into his tight, muscular ass.

Witnessing the ecstasy on his face as he slowly sank inside her to the root was one of the sexiest things she’d ever seen.

He pressed his forehead to hers. “Do you know how perfect you feel? Tight. All creamy wet, soft and hot for me? Do you know how long I’ve been achin’ to be with you like this?”


“Oh, so now you wanna talk, McKay? When we’re naked?”


He laughed, if a bit shakily.

“Talk later. Sex me up me first. Kiss me. God, your kisses undo me.”


He kissed her with the same vigor as he made love to her. The heat in the truck expanded, making for a sticky, hot and intense coupling, yet, retaining the balance of comfort they both needed.

His thrusts became more frantic. Deeper. Faster. He pulled away from her mouth to whisper, “Skylar. Take me with you this time.” Lifting her hips higher, he slammed home three more times.

When she came in a series of juicy ripples, he buried his face in her neck, repeating her name, and followed her over the edge.

She frowned. Now that she thought about it, she hadn’t said his name. She’d taken to calling him McKay on their previous dates. About an hour after that fateful incident, she’d learned the truth about who he really was.

Wrong. His name may’ve been different, but the man was the same.

Eliza cried, jarring Skylar back to the present.

Kade entered the small backroom. “Is that bottle ready yet?”


Damn. She’d been so lost in the vivid memory of him, of them, of heat and sex and need and lust, she’d forgotten all about the bottle. She popped it in the pan. “Just about ready.”


He took one look at her flushed cheeks and bright eyes and somehow knew she’d been reliving their brief—but glorious—naked past.

Defiant, she raised her chin a notch. “What?”


Kade’s look held more steam than the pan of boiling water. “I think about it all the time too. Some days that’s all I can think of.”


“Do you want to feed her?”


“Later. I’d best get back to my folks’ place and pack up my stuff. What time will you get home?”


“Around five-thirty.”


“I’ll be there earlier than that.”


“Wait. You’ll need a key.” She removed the front door key from the massive key ring and set it on the counter. Skylar watched as Kade kissed Eliza’s wrinkled forehead and murmured, “Later, sweet baby,” before he awkwardly snuggled her back in Skylar’s arms.

Then he did the strangest thing: he kissed Skylar’s forehead and whispered, “Later, sweet baby,” to her, snatched the key and took off like a shot.

She sighed and settled in the rocking chair. “He’s in for it now, girlie girl. We’ll see how long he lasts in this parenting gig.”


But part of her knew Kade McKay wasn’t a short-term kind of guy. He was the type to stick around for the long haul.

That scared her far worse than him not being around at all.

Chapter Four


Twenty miles from Moorcroft, Kade turned off the main highway onto a gravel road.

He motored past the gigantic steel building, noticing an open gate to the parking lot.

Being a lifelong rancher, leaving gates open drove him crazy.


He passed through another wide-open gate, which separated the Sky Blue factory from Skylar’s private residence. The old ranch house was blocked from view by a row of scraggly trees.

Unlike most Wyoming residents, her front door was locked. Kade set his bags next to the staircase in the cool, dark foyer. He looked at the pictures lining the hallway, a mish-mash of snapshots, artwork, formal studio poses and old-time sepia toned groups of photos from a century past.

The items on the opposite wall were hand-stitched family samplers. Mini-quilts, needlepoint, delicate doilies; all fussy female handiwork encased in glass and gilded frames. He wouldn’t have pegged Skylar’s decorating taste as old-fashioned, Western and homey.

He didn’t snoop beyond checking out the rooms on the main floor. Baby stuff had overtaken the antique dining room table. Didn’t look like Skylar did much entertaining, which filled him with an odd sense of relief.

The formal feeling of the front room—matching floral couches, heavy velvet drapes, tasseled pillows, elaborately carved antique end tables—was completely overpowered by more baby paraphernalia. A swing. A stroller. A half-barrel shaped thing camouflaged with a lace canopy. Piles of pastel-colored clothes were stacked on the coffee table next to every baby book imaginable.

Kade cringed when he finally caught sight of the tiny TV shoved in the corner by the dust-covered piano. After a year of no television, a big screen would be his first contribution to the household.

On impulse he picked up a pink, fuzzy one-piece outfit with snaps from the top down to the feet holes. The scent of soap and baby powder wafted up and his stomach clenched.

It smelled like Eliza, clean, soft and powdery-sweet. As much as he’d loved just holding her, he couldn’t wait to do all the corny things like count her fingers and toes, blow raspberries on her stomach and rock her to sleep.