Stockman’s Showdown (The Stockmen #4)

Six

Ryder Riggs was crowding her space. It sucked. Especially when Bree had come to this waterfall to get away from everyone, hoping to let the pounding water massage her shoulders and neck with the hope of drowning out her thoughts. But even as the water fell from the sky, it still didn’t switch off her mind, because Ryder was far too close.

How could anyone not know how to play? Jeez, his inner child must have retired by the time he was ten.

Then something touched her shoulders, and a set of strong fingers began kneading her skin.

‘What are you doing?’ It was Ryder, of course.

‘I can do a better job at massaging your shoulders than these falls can. Stay there and don’t complain.’

In shock of sorts, she was helpless to stop those strong hands that held her shoulders, pushing her into position like a doll of clay that was melting with his touch. The kneading of her flesh, the movement and easing of her muscles, the falling water and she was under his spell, relaxing deeper and deeper until she copped a face full of water.

‘Are you okay?’

She wiped over her face. Her beer was gone.

‘Did you fall asleep?’ He chuckled as he plucked her beer bottle from the water.

‘Gotta go.’ It was time to bolt from this guy now. Because her body was giddy for him, and there was no way she’d let the enemy win.

She sloshed out of the pool.

‘Where are you going?’

‘I’m not riding through the creek in the dark.’ She dried herself off at her saddle.

But when Ryder walked out of the lagoon, the sun’s dying rays sparkled against the cavern to highlight his hard body. Built like a machine, Ryder had broad shoulders, packed with muscle. Everything about him was hard. Especially that one part of his body that jutted out from his wet boxer briefs, slick against his skin.

She couldn’t take her eyes off him as rivulets of water dripped down his wide chest and over the hard planes of his stomach. She curled her hands into fists to stop herself from reaching out to trace the same path with her fingers, as droplets trailed down his pecs and over the ridges of his abdomen to that torturous treasure trail.

‘Bree?’

She raised her eyes to meet his, the colour of warm toasted hazelnut. They were such a contradiction for a man with ice in his veins. But they were dark and hooded, and locked on to her like she was prey.

There was no denying his presence, or the trimmed beard along his jawline that only made him sexier. It highlighted his lips, that had found a neutral position short of an actual smile.

His gaze dropped to her body, then back up to her face, dropping again to her lips where they lingered, making her flush from her fingertips to her toes and everywhere in between.

No. This was not happening. Not with Ryder Riggs.

She gritted her teeth, trying to focus on her shopping list, her ABCs, some song, something, anything, to get control and not look at Ryder Riggs standing in nothing but a pair of wet boxer briefs that showed off the gloriously masculine shape of his body.

Dear lord, he was equipped. In fact, he’d doubled up in that department, that he had her mouth watering as the heat just bloomed inside her.

He reached for her, his biceps rising like some Hollywood movie star. There were a few scars on his pecs, but no ink work, nothing but a whole load of hot, wet skin.

What was worse, he was going to kiss her.

Ryder Riggs—her enemy—wanted to kiss her. There was a fine line between can’t, won’t, and what the forge are you doing? And it was fast becoming a step too far into hellfire, a place she never wanted to revisit. Yet, he wanted to play?

Hold the phone, Ryder didn’t play. Everything he did was for a reason. It had to be some strategy because he was always ten tactical steps ahead of her. She couldn’t trust this. She needed to step away from him, but where was she going to go when her back was pressed against the rock wall?

Then his lips brushed hers. It was like igniting a wick, sending sparks to scurry across her nerve endings. She was powerless to stop him.

Ryder should never have this power over her. Ever. He should not have even been allowed to get this close to her or find her alone! She’d made a tactical error.

Refusing to close her eyes, his dark brown eyes were glimmering slits of intensity solely focused on her. She’d never forget how they looked at her with hunger, even though her brain had switched off, leaving her mind completely numb. This was not happening.

Unquenched desire briefly coated her tongue as she tried to fight the rush in her bloodstream that competed with the buzz in her brain.

He pulled back, his eyes crawling over her as if admiring all her curves and bumps. But then he gripped the rock ledge above her and leaned towards her, stretching that beautiful body in an arch, showing off the ridges of his perfectly defined abs, where somehow the air got heavier and thicker that she struggled to breathe.

He dipped his head closer. Her lips parted as she leaned towards him like he was a magnet. One kiss. She could do one kiss. Right?

Somehow that magical cord snapped, pushing her towards him. Or was it his hand on her hip pulling her closer? But when his fingers cupped her head, and his lips met hers—it was as if her entire world had zoomed in on this one moment, where time had stilled.

With a groan, he gathered her closer, sweeping his tongue across her lower lip. While she responded with a tiny sigh of surrender, allowing her tongue to slide against his while melting against his naked torso.

Her hands skimmed hungrily over his muscular arms that were warm, wet marble that ignited a primal appreciation, that soon started a scorching blaze in her lower belly, especially when his thick thighs pressed against hers.

A breathy, choked cry emanated from her throat, it echoed in the cave to come back and haunt her, followed by the neigh of her horses.

That’s when reality hit her. That’s when she pushed back. Her breath was ragged as he grunted in her ear. Oh, hellfire, it was a harsh and sexy sound that had her struggling to get away.

‘I have to go.’ She couldn’t look at him, even if her lips tasted of him. She quickly dressed and saddled her horse for the ride back to camp.

In her time, she’d kissed plenty of men. At one time, she’d thought the only man who could kiss her properly was her ex-husband, Finn.

At no time had any man ever kissed her like Ryder Riggs. The delicious high he’d elicited from her with the power of his lips from just one kiss had her shivering with temptation.

That’s when she knew she was in trouble.

She may crave the closeness of Ryder—but he was the type of man who’d want to own you. He may own her home, her property, and all she held dear, but he would never own her soul.