Riding Red

Excerpt From: Riding Red

Hard, hot, heart—pounding sex.

Those were the first, and sometimes only, words that came to mind when Teresa thought of Jeff Downing—an impressive six-foot-four package of hard, hot solid muscle who inspired every wicked, sensuous fantasy she could imagine. And when it came to Jeff Downing, she imagined many. Simply put, he made her wonder about, long for, crave a hard, hot, heart—pounding endless night of dirty, sweaty sex.

Teresa grimaced at her body's wanton reaction. Just thinking about the arrogant, obnoxious, jerk of a man made her body tingle, so no surprise that it was even worse when he was there in the flesh. Every time he came to visit, which nowadays was quite frequently, she experienced a shameful yearning for a man she loathed, a man she swore she couldn't stand. Yeah right. She snorted. If she loathed him so much then why was it just the faint sound of his car powering down the road had her pussy throbbing with anticipation? Why had her nipples budded tight the moment she'd recognised that all too familiar and quite distinctive mechanical purr in the distance?

As the vehicle drew closer, the dim hum soon gave way to the pulsing, pounding roar of a V8 engine, and even before the car rolled into her best friend's driveway, Teresa West knew it was Jeff Downing.

Sleek, black and silver, trimmed in chrome, Jeff's late model Ford Mustang was every bit as brazen and bold as its owner. With narrowed eyes, she watched it crawl along the dirt road until finally it came to a halt before her.

Squinting against the bright glare of the afternoon sun, her next breath dragged slowly through her chest when the driver—side door swung open. Steel toe leather boots—expensive boots, Armani boots—hit the ground first. Who wears Armani to a ranch? Teresa shook her head, because she knew exactly who would do such a thing, and to her annoyance she had to admire his grit, because he was the only man who could get away with it, and he knew it.

Without a doubt, Jeff Downing was a one of a kind—authentic and original. And as he unfolded his densely muscled frame from the car to flash a wicked grin her way, Teresa could only glare back, because it was obvious to all that Jeff Downing indeed believed he was without equal. And while she would never, ever admit it to him, she had to begrudgingly concede...he was right.

Hidden behind black aviator shades were the striking ocean blue eyes, so clear that every time she looked into them, she could feel the waves cresting within her belly. As if he could hear her thoughts, he removed his glasses, and a shudder trembled through her as he snared her with those mesmerising eyes.

He marched towards her on those long, powerful legs of his, blocking out the sun which now beat against his wide back. Her breathing grew harsh as burnished amber rays caressed sun-bronzed skin, bringing highlights to his coal black hair.

He was breathtaking, he was a sinful, erotic temptation—

The slamming of the car door captured her attention and she glanced up just as another man—equally handsome and sensual, although not as darkly provocative as his older brother—climbed out of the car.

Jason Downing.

The youngest of the four Downing brothers.

Although, they all favoured one another, his resemblance to Jeff was so similar they were often mistaken for twins.

But twins they definitely were not. And her body was well aware of this.

While more practically dressed, Jason Downing exuded an alluring, enticing air of sexual confidence in faded jeans and a casual black button-down shirt that was open at the collar. He smiled at the same time he removed his sunglasses, and while she appreciated the handsome, charming man before her, she was all too cognisant of the fact that her belly didn't twist and churn when he flashed that dimpled grin, and her knees didn't shake in response.

Her stupid body only seemed to react so...stupidly to Jeff Downing and in such inappropriate, appalling ways—the knowledge of which irritated her to no end, causing her to lash out at its source the moment he came to a halt before her.

"I actually thought BJ was exaggerating, but I'm starting to believe you really don't have a job."

Much to her annoyance, Jeff's sensual lips curled higher into that classic, crooked grin that made him appear as if he had not a care in the world, and always sent a tremor racing down her back.

"No need to get all fussy, Red. 'Cause, if you missed me, darlin', all you had to do was just say so and I would have been here sooner."

"How many times do I have to tell you to stop calling me that?" she fumed, even as her belly fluttered from the sound of his deep, Southern drawl washing over her. "My hair is red, my name is Teresa, so use it. And I hate to shatter that big ego of yours but no one around here misses you, not when you're here damn near every other week."

He shrugged. "What can I say? I have interests to protect." And Teresa knew exactly what he meant by 'interests', but even if she would have been slow that day, the wolfish grin that spread across his face was telling. Even more so was the slow slide of his gaze along her body, which lingered for far too long on her rounded breasts.