Lost Trust (Wildhaven Cowboys #2)

Prologue

Royce

“You know what I’ve always wanted to try?” I whisper.

Marina cuts me a skeptical look. “What?”

Instead of answering, I take her hand and start pulling her toward the arena.

Marina Kincade is my dream girl.

She’s the cowgirl who’s starred in my fantasies ever since she first rode onto the rodeo scene.

I’ll never forget the first time I saw her at The American.

Eighteen years old, riding into AT&T Stadium with the poise of a seasoned veteran, like she’d been born for that arena. She made it look effortless.

And damn if that wasn’t sexy as hell.

Now, somehow, I’ve got the attention of the woman I’ve spent years dreaming about.

The night sky sparkles overhead, a blanket of stars stretched from horizon to horizon as she follows me through the gate. Inside, the arena is dark and still, save for the soft scrape of our boots across the dirt and the distant sounds of rodeo staff breaking down for the night.

The familiar scent of damp earth and livestock hangs heavy in the cool air.

I tug her toward the center of the arena before stopping. I shrug out of my flannel and let it fall onto the hard-packed dirt, then lower myself.

Marina stares at me. Then at the dirt. Then back at me.

“No.”

My mouth twitches.

She crosses her arms. “Absolutely not. I’m not rolling around on the dirty arena floor with you, Trust.”

I laugh under my breath, then reach for her waist.

“Royce—”

Before she can finish, I hook an arm around her waist and pull her down into my lap.

She lands astride my thighs, facing me, her hands instinctively settling on my shoulders.

Her gaze flicks toward the entrance.

“Someone could walk in here.”

“The spectators are long gone, and the staff are more interested in getting finished and getting gone than they are in what we’re doing,” I tell her.

My mouth finds her neck, my lips dragging a slow, teasing trail along her skin until they reach her ear.

“What about Axle?” she asks, tilting her head to give me better access. “What if he comes looking for you?”

“He won’t,” I murmur against her skin. “He’s got his own distraction.”

“Is that what I am?” she asks breathlessly. “A distraction?”

“I thought that’s what I am.”

I press a kiss to the pulse point beneath her ear.

“Oh, right,” she murmurs as my teeth catch lightly on her earlobe. “Does that bother you, cowboy?”

“No, ma’am. I don’t mind being the one you use to help you forget.”

I slide my fingers into her hair, curling them around the strands as I draw her closer. Then my mouth covers hers.

The kiss is hard and deep, stealing whatever protest she had left and making the world beyond this arena disappear.

She tastes like whiskey—smoky and sweet—and every nerve in my body sparks to life. Her fingers tighten around my shoulders, her body softening against mine as the last of her tension melts away.

When I finally break the kiss, I rest my forehead against hers.

She’s breathing a little harder than she was a moment ago.

“This mouth …” My thumb drags slowly across her bottom lip, and a shiver runs through her. “It’s going to be the death of me.”

She sinks closer into my lap, and the soft sound that escapes as her center slides over my zipper has my pulse kicking and I grow painfully hard.

The faint strains of music drifting from the speakers mingle with our uneven breaths, making the moment feel strangely intimate despite the empty arena surrounding us.

I reach around her and tug her shirt loose from her jeans.

“You sure no one’s gonna come in here?” she asks.

“Nope.” My grin turns wicked. “But that’s what makes it exciting. The thrill of getting caught.”

Her eyes narrow.

“You’re insane.”

“Maybe.”

My lips curl into a slow smile.

“Arms up, baby.”

She hesitates for the briefest moment before lifting her arms, letting me pull the shirt over her head. I toss it aside, then lean in and press a slow trail of kisses from beneath her breast to her belly, feeling her back arch beneath my touch.

I pop the button on her jeans, and she gasps as I wedge my hand inside.

“No underwear?” She moans as I nudge the tip of my finger into her soaked entrance. “Naughty girl.”

My eyes stay on hers as I glide my finger inside of her, then pull it out and drag it up to circle her clit.

“Royce,” she purrs my name as I tease the sensitive bundle of nerves.

“I love how ready you are for me, Rina.”

She writhes against my hand, but I can tell it’s not enough. So I come up to my knees and pull her pants down her legs, then unzip my jeans, and fist my aching cock before sitting back on an elbow.

I take a moment to simply look at her before reaching into my back pocket. I fumble with the foil packet for a second, then catch the edge between my teeth and tear it open. A moment later, I roll the latex into place, never taking my eyes off her.

“Climb on top of me, baby,” I command.

She glances over her shoulder one more time, then she does as I asked, balancing her hands on my chest.

I find her entrance and guide myself inside.

“Yes,” she cries as she starts to lower her hips, taking me in an inch at a time.

I reach up to her bra and undo the front clasp. I wrap my hand around one plump tit as she bounces on top of me. The perfect handful. I bring my mouth to the taut peak and suck it between my teeth.

“Oh God,” she gasps as I bite down.

She looks like a goddess riding my cock in the middle of the arena like a fucking rodeo queen.

“Fuck, your pussy feels so good stretched tight round me.” I pant as she starts moving faster.

I sit up, grasp her hips and start pounding into her as her cries grow louder and more desperate. My cock’s throbbing, and I can feel her nails sink into my shoulders as I pump harder and harder.

When I think I can’t hold on any longer, her sweet heat tightens around me, and my name explodes from her lips.

I take her mouth with mine to absorb her cries, and I let go as she spasms around me. Her warm release leaking down her thighs and soaking the front of my jeans.

I’ve had plenty of sex. I’ve had some really fucking good sex, too. But nothing has ever come close to this.

Nothing.

I hold her close, pressing kisses to her eyelids, her nose, her lips, until her breathing finally steadies.

Rain begins to fall around us, light and cool. The chill air against her sweat-dampened skin makes her shiver, and I pull her tighter against me.

I hold her there for another few minutes before finally getting us both to our feet. I take care of the condom, adjust my jeans, then help her back into her clothes. I scoop up my flannel, snap it through the air a couple of times to shake off the dirt, and pull it back on.

Then, before she can protest, I scoop her off her feet and toss her over my shoulder.

She squeals, laughter spilling into the empty arena as I give her ass a playful smack.

“Damn,” I say, grinning. “That was even hotter than my fantasies.”

I carry her across the highway to the roadside motel, both of us laughing like a couple of damn fools.

We shower off the night, then crawl into bed and fall asleep naked, tangled in the sheets and wrapped around each other.

I wake in the motel and reach for her without thinking.

My hand finds nothing but cold sheets.

My eyes snap open.

She’s gone.

Fuck.