Rope the Moon (Runaway Ranch #2)

Prologue

T wo quick knocks signal her arrival. Like kerosene straight to my heart. I glance up from stoking the fire, watching as she slips into the cabin that’s been our meeting place for the last six months.

Dakota McGraw.

Resurrection’s golden girl.

And my personal goddamn kryptonite.

“Made you something,” she says, her voice a husky purr. She lifts a plate in the air.

“I don’t—”

“Eat sweets. I know.” A sassy eyebrow arch. “But you eat mine.”

Damn right I do. This cabin couldn’t be situated on a property more aptly named than Eden, because I can never resist her temptation.

With a victorious smile, she lifts the covering on the plate to reveal four cupcakes adorned with thick chocolate frosting. “Brown sugar vanilla cupcakes with chocolate ganache.”

I set the poker aside. “You do all that work to make that little thing?”

She laughs lightly. “Yeah, but you’ll never forget it, will you?”

“No,” I say, my eyes on her face. “I won’t.”

Dakota grins, desire evident in her expression as she sets her purse and the cupcakes on a small side table.

The glow from the lantern illuminates the arch of her back, the curve of her ass, promptly turning my cock into a steel rod.

Her long black hair swishes against her waist, and I stare. It’s hypnotic as hell.

Goddamn that hair. That body. This girl. This fucking girl who’s healed my wounds, my nightmares, this last year.

And tonight, it all ends.

Every second of today, I’ve been counting down to this moment.

Fuck, but I’m dreading it.

In two quick strides, I cross the room. I grab her waist and tug her to me. Untie her apron and let it flutter to the ground.

“Hey, Hotshot.” With an airy laugh, she launches herself into my arms. I grip her thighs and slide her warm body up mine, her long, lean legs wrapping around my waist.

“Hey, yourself.”

My fingertips trace their way up the curve of her ass. I barely get her mouth on mine before she’s pulling back, gasping, “How’s Charlie?”

“He choked down some dinner tonight, so not a total loss,” I say as I kick off my boots. The last thing I want to do is talk about my brother. My broken idiot brother.

Patching a man back together is easy. Watching my brother drown himself in a bottle of Jack has never been more painful.

Mouth on her neck, I back her up to the bed.

A laugh sparkles in her dark brown eyes. “Whatever happened to discipline?”

“Fuck discipline,”I growl, tightening my grip on her waist.

I’m a soldier. A man of rules. Secrets. But when it comes to Dakota McGraw, I’ve broken every single one of them.

“I’ve waited all day for this,” she whispers, her graceful fingers holding my face.

My entire goddamn life.

“Me too.” With that, I slam my mouth onto hers, my tongue tasting every inch of her sweet, sugar-spun mouth. We melt into the kiss, and it lights up the shadows inside of me, the wild, insatiable need for this woman.

Impatiently, I lower her to the mattress. And then she’s everywhere. A swirl of wild hair and sweet breath. Cream and honey. Her frantic hands tremble as she works at my belt buckle, my zipper.

She gets on her knees in front of me and swallows me up.

I make a sound like a wild animal, the noise echoing through the cabin.

Her dark eyes stay locked on me as she works me over.

I curl my hands in her hair, tangling it, and a breathy plea rises in the back of her throat.

I can see down the front of her dress, those gorgeous breasts bouncing as she sucks me off.

It has me ravenous. Has my cock hard as steel.

“Goddamn, Koty, you’re so fucking pretty on your knees,” I rasp. “Taking every single inch of me.” Dakota bats her eyes, and that, plus the combination of her rosy, pouty lips sucking down my cock, has me just about ready to let loose.

I take her arms in my hands and jerk her up. As much as I love her on her knees, I want to be inside her.

“Fuck, but I need it too, baby,” I hiss, groaning at how sinfully sweet it is to see the lust building in her eyes.

No longer patient, I strip her bare. Off comes her dress, bra, panties. My gaze rakes possessively down her naked body, across her face. Curves like a goddess. Eyes black like the starless sky at night.

I pull her close and lock her in my arms. My hand drifts, a finger parting the damp, dark curls around her pussy.

Dakota moans and twists restlessly when I find her clit.

I stroke the sensitive bundle of nerves, her lower body grinding down on my hand.

She’s so wet, so swollen, so open and unguarded, that my brain goes numb.

Her breath shakes, she whines my name, and then she stiffens.

Slick sweetness drips down my hand as she comes, her head falling back on her shoulders.

As soon as she’s done trembling, I grab two handfuls of her pert ass and spin her around. I get her on her hands and knees on the bed and let loose an animalistic groan. That’s goddamn it. I have the best view in the world. Her pussy, pretty and pink and wet, aimed right at me.

If it’s even possible, I unravel further. This girl has me by the balls.

With a growl, I fold myself over her and grip her hips, hard, then slam into her slick channel with savage lust.

With a delighted squeal, she throws her head back. I fist her hair and tug. Her long lashes flutter. “Yes, Davis,” she purrs. “Yes, yes.”

“You feel so fucking good.” She whimpers as I drive my cock deeper into her, her muscles flexing around me like a vise. “Fuck. Fuck .”

There’s nothing but us tonight.

We have to last. Because in less than twenty-four hours, it’s all over.

Dakota moans, a husky sound that has me picking up the pace. Skin slapping skin, her breasts bounce as my hips smack her ass. Reaching around, I stick my fingers in her mouth. She takes them deep, sucking on them.

The cabin fills with moans, the smell of sex. I fuck her hard, cleaving onto all that creamy white flesh, savoring these last moments with this girl. It’s not enough. It’ll never be enough. Not with Dakota.

Tonight, she’s mine. I’m taking her. Let her go into the world smelling of my cum and knowing I’ve been the last one to touch, to taste her.

Dakota reaches back and palms my face. Pressure builds in both of us. I’m already fucking shaking like a teenager.

I grip her hard around the waist and yank her into me.

Flesh against flesh, her bare back against my chest. She throws her head back against my shoulder, and I nip at her throat.

Arching on tiptoes to get deeper, I thrust harder, working us both into a frenzy.

Can’t control it. A shudder rolls down my spine and into my cock, and then I’m roaring my release.

Seconds later, Dakota’s small moans follow mine.

When the quaking between our bodies stops, I gather her in my arms and pull us down into bed.

With a content sigh, she curls into me, all warm and soft like the last light of the evening sky. “I’m not going to be able to walk after tonight,” she says with a little laugh.

I grunt. “Baby, you won’t be able to crawl.”

She’s staying in this bed until we run out of moonlight. I’m not letting her go without fucking her senseless. As long as I have tonight, I have Dakota. And I plan on taking my goddamn time.

“Mmm,” she hums, tracing a hand up my bicep. Her wild mane of hair curls around us like a dark cloud of smoke. “Let’s hope not.”

“Where’s your first stop?” I force the question out. Force myself to keep a cool head even if it’s the last thing I feel.

“I’m in San Antonio for two semesters. And then…the future…it’s wide open.” She stretches her arms out over her head, baring her breasts, dark rosy nipples I can’t wait to get in my mouth again. “Goodbye, Resurrection. Hello, sweet, sweet freedom.”

“Will you miss it?”

“I’ll miss my sister. My dad. The mountains.” She hesitates, then her gaze drops to my face. “I’ll miss you,” she whispers.

“I’ll miss you, too.” Emotion knots my throat, and I tug her into my arms. “Miss kickin’ your ass in pinball.”

She scoffs and slaps my chest. “Davis Montgomery, I know you’re not rewriting history.”

I drag a hand over her arm, kiss that little freckle on her lip. I never miss it. I could find it in the dark, blindfolded. “Who’s taking you to the airport tomorrow?”

“Stede,” she says, her expression flushing with guilt.

No one knows about us. Not her father. Not my brothers. Maybe Ford, my twin, has a clue, but wisely, he’s kept his fat fucking mouth shut.

For the last six months, we’ve been sneaking around, and I hate myself for it. Maybe because the girl in question is the dark-haired daughter of Stede McGraw. A man I consider a father to me and my brothers. Maybe because I should know better, and yet, she breaks every ounce of my self-control.

Don’t know how this woman slipped her way past my cold wall. Intelligent. Disarming. Beautiful. Somehow between the sex, the dreamless sleep, our conversations, she dragged it all out of me. We’ve only known each other a year, but it feels like I’ve known her for five lifetimes.

In those blissful hours we spent together, I forgot about my responsibilities.

My brother wasn’t losing it. My mission hadn’t gone to shit.

My team was still alive. I didn’t have to keep it together.

All that exists is this bright force of a woman who’s breathed life back into my battered body.

Has me feeling more like a man, less animal.

Dakota slips out of bed, and I watch her, my cock resuscitating itself at the gentle sway of her hips and ass as she takes a tube of lotion out of her purse.

I push myself up on my elbows and shake my head. “You don’t have to do this.”

“Shut up.” She slips in bed behind me, reclining me in her arms. “Enjoy it. It’s the last time I’ll do it.”

The singular thought has the power to destroy. My heart hammers, and I look to the window like I can stop the sun from rising. At dawn, she’ll be gone, and there’s not a thing I can do about it.

Slowly, methodically, like she’s done all summer, Dakota rubs the lotion on my bullet wound. I relax into her, wanting to tattoo her touch onto my body. Her graceful hands knead the scar tissue as gently as she kneads one of her breads.

Even a year later, it hurts.

When she met me, I was one arm down. I was focused on Charlie, and she had none of my excuses as to why I wasn’t working on it. She bossed and bullied me into doing daily rehab. A year later, except for a numb tingling when it rains, it’s back to 90 percent motion.

But that’s Dakota. She cares, she gives, and I’m the bastard who takes.

“You take care of yourself, you hear me?” Her soft, soothing hands stroke over my bicep. “Put this on every night.”

Reaching up, I cup her face. “I don’t regret it.”

She smiles. “I wouldn’t expect you to. Not you, Hotshot.”

Hotshot.

Like I said. She has all my secrets.

When she’s finished, she caps the lotion. Her slender arms loop around my neck, and she nuzzles her face against my cheek. My chest burns. I comb her hair off her flushed cheek. Without thinking, I say unhappily, “I fucking hate that you have to leave.”

Her breath catches.

Shit.

It’s too much. Heat of the moment.

Heart of the moment.

Dakota stares at me. “Davis…is there,” she bites her lower lip, swallows, “something you want to tell me?” Her voice is breathy. Hope lights her expression.

Her question knocks me flat. Fucking Christ.

Stay.

I love you.

They’re the only words that have ever made any sense.

It’s on the tip of my lips and yet…

Her gorgeous face is bright, that daydreamer look in her eyes I’ve long come to recognize as one of the most stunning features of Dakota McGraw.

I won’t be the bastard who ruins her dreams. She finally has her chance to get out of Resurrection.

I just planted roots here, and she’s pulling hers up.

It’s not like I can offer her a castle and a white horse.

All I have is a busted ranch, and a broken brother I’m trying to keep alive.

And Dakota—she has her entire future.

A good girl with her life straight. She’ll travel the world, get that bakery she wants, and blow everyone in Resurrection out of the water.

Koty McGraw needs freedom, and I won’t hold her back. This girl’s born to fly. She deserves the world.

With heroic effort, I give a tight shake of my head, ignoring the selfish bastard inside of me that wants to keep her here. “No. Nothing.”

Some of the light dies in her dark brown eyes. Her lips curve in a sad little smile.

Before she can say anything, I’m twisting in her arms and lifting the dog tags from around my chest. I remove and pocket one of the tags, then slip the chain with the remaining tag over her head, clearing hair from her nape as they settle down low between her breasts.

“I want you to take these,” I order. Almost hesitantly, she fingers the tag. “Remember, Koty, you need anything, you call me.”

Mischief sparkles in her eyes, and her lips pull into a flirty one-sided grin. “Anything? Like alibis, kidnappings, simple beatings?”

“And then some.” I softly grip her jaw, forcing her to look at me. “I mean it. Anytime you ask, I’ll be there. Five seconds, five minutes, five lifetimes. I will always come for you. No matter what.”

The words drop between us, weighted. Our gazes hold for one long beat, the small space between us warming several degrees.

“Promise me,” I demand.

Her eyes shutter, then open.

“I promise,” she whispers.

Then I take Dakota McGraw in my arms and kiss her until the sun comes up.