Cowboy Not Included: The Boot Knockers Ranch, Book 6 by Em Petrova Page B

with in a year?” she blurted, then threw up a hand. “Never mind. I don’t want to know and it’s none of my concern. Not anymore.”
    “No, it’s not.” A shadow fell over his features, and his brows met in the middle.
    “I’m going back to the bungalow.”
    “I’ll walk you there.”
    She thought about saying, “Don’t bother,” but figured she’d waste air. All the way back, she hated herself for sounding like a nagging wife.
    At the door, she spun on him. “I really don’t care who you sleep with, Booker.”
    “Good.”
    “But I’m going to make it clear that you’re not sleeping with me. I get the bed and you can go back to wherever you sleep when you’re not…” She didn’t know how to say it.
    “I’ll sleep on the couch.” He gestured at the closed door and the comfy sofa beyond.
    “You’re really doing a good job of playing bodyguard, but I’m not going to put up with it.”
    Reaching past her, he locked his hand on the doorknob. As he leaned close—too close—an unwelcome quiver took hold of her. “I promised you a restful vacation, Skye. But it’s not going to be spent in bed.”
    With that, he brushed past her into the space and settled himself on the couch with ankles crossed. She stalked into the bedroom and slammed the door.
    “What are you doing?” he called.
    She didn’t bother biting off her growl of irritation. “I’m going to take a soothing bath.” And plot my way around you, Booker dear.
    Booker dragged his gaze over his sleeping ex-wife sprawled on the bed in nothing but a towel that had loosened around her breasts. The tops peeking from the terrycloth were the most succulent thing he’d seen in a long time.
    Controlling his breathing to ensure she didn’t wake up, he let his gaze linger over the dip of her waist and the flare of her hip. Her short hair dripped into one closed eye, and she still slept like the dead. Thank God.
    He followed the lines of the rope he’d bound her with. The knots below her wrists looked as if they’d hold a wildcat. When she awoke, he had no doubt she’d fight like one. But he couldn’t have her leaving the bungalow either.
    Creeping from the room, he threw a look over his shoulder. She wouldn’t be walking anywhere with those ropes around her ankles. Sure, she’d be spitting mad, but it was for her own good.
    With any luck, he’d be back from his rendezvous and untie her before she woke up.
    He slipped outside and leaped the porch steps. The light was fading and he was aching. The walk to the bunkhouse took less time than normal, since he was in a rush.
    Teller was waiting for him.
    He’d been sleeping with Teller off and on since the man came to the ranch. There’d been an immediate attraction and they shared the same values not to mention a hunger for a certain type of female.
    Countless threesomes had resulted, but when they got lonely, they turned to each other.
    The space was empty except for one cowboy lying on his cot. Teller started to move as Booker entered, but he waved a hand. “Don’t get up.” In a few quick steps he was on top of him, covering him with his body and taking his mouth.
    Teller’s lips were bruising-hard and his cock harder.
    “Mmm,” Booker groaned as he delved his tongue into the man’s salty mouth. Not wasting a second, Teller ran his hands down Booker’s chest, tweaking nipples, to his fly.
    “I’ve been waiting all day,” Teller said.
    Booker closed his fingers over his lover’s nipple and rolled it between his fingers. He was already shirtless and his fly was open, revealing a patch of white cotton over his straining cock. As soon as Teller freed Booker’s shaft, he rubbed it against Teller’s bulge.
    They shared a primal groan. Boots started flying, Booker’s hat hit the floor. When they were naked, Teller surged upward and bit Booker’s chin. “I’m going to suck your cock.”
    “Put your mouth where your money is.”
    “Come up here.” Teller still lay on his back,