Cody. Kimberly Raye

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      They wanted a real relationship, and he wasn’t in any position to stick around and deliver. His survival depended on knowing when to cut and run. Sure, he was riding a high with his rodeo career right now, but the end was fast approaching. Especially with Benny James hot on his tail.

      James was a reporter for No Bull, a fanzine type magazine about the rodeo circuit. He’d put in through Cody’s publicist for an interview several months ago, which Cody had declined. The reporter hadn’t taken the news too kindly and he’d made it his mission in life to get the dirt on PBR’s hottest star. He’d starting mentioning Cody in his monthly Who’s Who column, calling him the Lone Ranger and stirring as much speculation as possible. About Cody’s extremely private lifestyle. His uncanny athletic prowess. His high tolerance for pain.

      Bull riding was a tough profession and there wasn’t a rider out there who didn’t wear the battle scars. Broken bones. Bruises. But not Cody. The only scar he had came from a case knife back during a particularly nasty raid on a Union general who’d been holding Confederate prisoners. He’d been a man then and vulnerable.

      He was the ultimate riding machine now. Strong. Fearless. Invincible. Crazy.

      Then again, he’d always been a little crazy. Impulsive. Wild. Not a good thing for a vampire desperate to keep a low profile.

      James was onto him. While the man might not have figured out Cody’s true identity or his bloodsucking secret, he knew something was up.

      And now, thanks to the column, so did everyone else.

      The entire rodeo world was questioning how long the infamous Cody Boyd could keep going at such a brutal pace. It was just a matter of time before a vampire slayer picked up on the speculation and put the puzzle pieces together.

      Cody had been trying his best to keep his impulses in check, but the effort had made little difference. He needed to quit the circuit completely. Go back to being just plain old Cody Braddock and working the horse ranches the way he’d done for the past one hundred years. He would, just as soon as Balls to the Wall Boyd broke the PBR record for the most consecutive championships. One more season, and it was his.

      Until then…

      His gaze shifted to the blonde standing near the corner of the L-shaped bar.

      She had fast and fleeting written all over her. From the skimpy pink dress that outlined a pair of porn star breasts, to the hot pink cowboy boots that made her legs seem long and endless. Full, thick platinum hair framed her heart-shaped face and plunged past her shoulders. She had bright sparkling eyes as potent as a bottle of Jack Daniels fringed with thick black lashes. An extra layer of pink lipstick accented her lush mouth and stirred an image so evocative that his cock gave a quick salute.

      A reaction that tightened every muscle in his body and set off his internal alarm.

      A definite first because he’d never been the least bit interested in a woman’s mouth, no matter how attractive, or how experienced. Not when he’d been a man—young and wild and as horny as the day was long—and not now.

      He didn’t waste his time with soft kisses or gentle touches. He took the lead in bed, stirring and provoking until his partner exploded and he drank in the vibrant energy of her climax.

      Not that he didn’t try to get his O on every now and then, too. What red-blooded male—man or vampire—didn’t want to come? But Cody always found himself getting caught up in the woman’s big moment rather than his own, and once the beast was fed, he lost his enthusiasm. Which explained why he hadn’t had an actual orgasm with a woman since he’d opened his eyes as a vampire.

      He enjoyed himself. He fed. But he never came.

      He had no doubt now would be any different. Even if the lust burning up his veins felt hotter than it usually did. More potent.

      His gut clenched and his dick ached. It was all he could do not to cross the room, bend her over the bar, pull up her dress and sink into her hot, lush body.

      She looked more than appropriate for what he had in mind. But while her body said do me, her eyes told an altogether different story.

      Her name was Miranda Rivers and she was way out of her element. She’d never worn her hot pink cowboy boots. Never been to a bar. Never picked up a stranger. She’d never even drank more than one margarita.

      Until tonight.

      She was working on her third and she wanted a man. And sex. She wanted to live out just one of her fantasies before she turned her back on all of them and continued down the straight and narrow path she’d been traveling her entire life.

      This was her detour.

      Her one chance to let her guard down and live out one of her many fantasies.

      Perfect, right?

      Wrong. While she had a body made for sex, she’d never had an actual orgasm with a man. That’s what tonight was all about. Since she hadn’t exploded with the few safe, boring men in her past, she’d decided to go for forbidden and exciting.

      Problem solved.

      Unless the problem wasn’t the men.

      She was the common denominator. The one constant in each lukewarm encounter. What if she simply wasn’t capable of an orgasm?

      Her gaze collided with his and he saw the instant spark of lust. A surprising reaction because he hadn’t sent any seductive thoughts her way. He hadn’t enticed or mesmerized, or anything. She was attracted to him of her own accord.

      Heat rolled through his body like a swig of whiskey and sucker punched him right in the gut.

      He stiffened. While she might be attracted to him, the last thing he needed was to waste his time on a what if. He needed to turn around and walk the other way no matter how lush her body or how full her mouth or how desperate he was to taste her.

      He needed a sure thing.

      He started to turn away. But then she smiled and his hunger stirred, and he couldn’t help himself.

      Cody Braddock had been a slave to his impulses far too long to stop now.

      Chapter Two

      HE WAS THE SEXIEST COWBOY she’d ever seen.

      Which said a lot because Miranda Rivers had become quite the expert over the years.

      Thanks entirely to her mother—part-time B is for Beautiful independent makeup consultant and full-time buckle bunny—Miranda had witnessed hundreds of Stetsons bobbing through the front door of the single wide trailer where she’d grown up. A parade that had continued as her two older sisters had matured and carried on their mother’s weakness for men with tight Wranglers, starched shirts and a wild and reckless charm.

      It was a weakness that had eventually killed Chastity Rivers.

      She’d fallen too hard, too fast, for a man who’d rejected her. She’d been so devastated that she’d killed herself and left her daughters to finish raising themselves.

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