Lexie Duval has always gone after what she wants, and she wants Drew Benson. The tall, sexy, mocha cowboy is one hunk of man she’d love to get her hands on. A rodeo cowboy through and through, she just hopes he can stay on for longer than eight seconds.
But when their time together uncovers some surprising secrets, Lexie isn’t sure what to think or how to feel. Will Drew still want her when he finds out? Or will he push her away and move on?
Lexie Duvall eyed the cowboy from head to toe, her gaze caressing a rather broad set of shoulders, an impressive chest, and––she licked her lips––a mouthwatering package, if the bulge in his jeans was any indication. And that mocha skin, with those bright blue eyes…
Her pulse was racing, for sure. She certainly wouldn’t mind climbing on to see if she could ride for eight seconds. Hell, if he fucked as good as he looked, she’d keep riding past the buzzer, until neither one of them was coherent any longer. She’d be happy to fuck them both into a coma.
“Do you need a cigarette?” her friend Shelly asked, leaning in close.
She turned her attention away from tall, chocolate, and sexy. “No, why?”
Shelly shrugged. “As well as you just eye-fucked him, I figured you came, at least once.”
Lexie grinned and slugged her friend in the shoulder. “Smart ass.”
“His name is Drew Benson. He’s old man Benson’s grandson.” Shelly smirked. “Still find him hot, now that you know he’s related to the most ornery cuss that ever lived? I would imagine they’re a package deal.”
“I thought Carson Benson was old man Benson’s grandson.”
“They’re brothers. Only difference is their eyes. One has green, and one has blue.”
Lexie looked him over again, rolling Shelly’s words around in her mind.
“Who said I had to keep him? I just thought I’d enjoy him for a few hours and toss him back.”
Lexie couldn’t help herself––she had to look again. She was drawn to him, couldn’t look away for longer than a minute or two. Carson Benson, she was familiar with, as she had run into him many times over the years. He was quiet, and yeah, she’d admit he was sexy too. But he didn’t get her motor going the way Drew did. She’d never seen Drew around town before, but then, she’d disappeared for two years, only returning a few weeks ago after the big city had chewed her up and spit her out. She’d busted her ass waiting tables, working as a barista, and doing anything else she could to make ends meet, but in the end, it hadn’t been enough. Slinking home with her tail tucked between her legs, she’d crashed on her mother’s couch until lucking into a trailer one week ago. It wasn’t much to look at, but it was home sweet home.
“Think he’s into curvy girls?” she asked Shelly.
Shelly snorted. “Honey, from what I’ve heard, he’s into anything with a pussy. He rides the rodeo circuit, and the buckle bunnies flock to him. No telling how long he’s in town for this time. I suppose, if you’re really looking for a quick ride to scratch an itch, he’d be ideal. He’s certainly the no-strings-attached type.”
Lexie fluffed her curly blonde hair, checked to make sure the girls were still behaving and hadn’t completely spilled out of her top––however, a little peek never hurt––then she sauntered over to one yummy Drew Benson. It was only neighborly to introduce herself, after all. She sidled up to him, brushing against his body to gain his attention. When he was focused on her, she gave him her slowest, sexiest smile, the one that had gotten her into more trouble than she’d like to remember, and laid her hand on his arm.
“Hey there, cowboy. You’re looking mighty lonely standing over here by yourself.”
His gaze traced her curves, of which there were plenty, and his eyes lit in appreciation.
“I suppose you’re offering to keep me company?” he asked, his Texas drawl sending shivers down her spine. Lord, but she loved a man with an accent.
“Word around town is that you’re old man Benson’s grandson. Thing is, you don’t sound like an Okie.”
His lips tipped up on one corner, as his eyes crinkled in merriment. “And what do I sound like?”
She bit her lip, looking up at him from under her lashes. A move she’d practiced for hours in front of the mirror as a teen.
“A hot, mouthwatering, Texas cowboy.”
“I’ve spent a bit of time down there. Must have rubbed off on me.”
Can I rub off on you too? She ached to get her hands on him. This close to him, she could smell his cologne: A hint of patchouli, the tang of citrus. Whatever it was, it was intoxicating. She wanted to bury her nose in his throat and breathe him in all night. Preferably naked.
“What do you say we get out of here?” he asked.