The sight of Mason riding toward her on Ghost Rider left Becky feeling surprised and more than a little breathless. She’d learned a lot about him in the last week: He was an amazing cook. He had a soft spot for animals. He didn’t mind getting his hands dirty helping out on the ranch. And he knew his way around a bedroom—although it had taken some doing to get him there.

Every night, he would list the reasons why they shouldn’t be sleeping together, and every night she would sneak into the guestroom and change his mind. If he had locked the door, she would’ve believed him. But the door was never locked. And last night, it had only taken her dropping her nightshirt for him to reach for her.

He claimed he was a dominant, but since the first spanking, he’d never once gotten rough with her. Instead, he treated her like spun glass. Like he was worried that if he handled her too roughly she would break. She intended to disabuse him of that notion.

She watched as he galloped across the open pasture toward her. He handled the high-spirited horse better than she did. When he reached the herd of cattle she and the ranch hands were taking to another pasture, he easily guided Ghost Rider through the herd and to where she sat on her bay cutting horse, Jinx.

“You need to tell me where a city boy like you learned to ride,” she teased.

“My stepdad Dan had a ranch.”

Yet another stepdad. In the last week, she’d learned that Mason’s stepdad Bill had taught him to fish. Stepdad Greg had taught him football. And stepdad Donald was the reason he’d chosen to study the law. Becky was starting to get a clearer picture of Mason’s childhood. It had been far from idyllic. While he never spoke badly about his stepfathers, the revolving door of daddies had to have left some major insecurities in a kid. Which probably explained Mason’s need for control.

“It’s three o’clock,” he said.

“You rode all this way to give me the time?”

“I rode all this way because you didn’t eat breakfast today. And if you’re not going to eat breakfast, you need to eat lunch.” He glanced at his watch. “It’s 3:01.”

She bit back a smile. “Thank you, Big Ben. But if you remember, there was a good reason why I didn’t eat breakfast this morning.”

His mouth tipped down at the corners as if she’d just called him a bad name, instead of brought up their lovemaking. “That shouldn’t have happened. Especially if it made you skip breakfast. Now what’s your excuse for not eating lunch?”

“We have to move this herd to a pasture with more water. I don’t have time to worry about lunch.”

He sighed. “I get that you want Zane to be proud of the way you take care of the ranch while he’s gone, but I don’t think he’ll be happy if you die of starvation.” He used Zane as an excuse for watching out for her all the time. But she no longer believed him. He hadn’t liked her when they first met, but he liked her now. He cared if she ate breakfast and lunch. He cared if she had a stalker. And he cared if she reached orgasm.

She had started to care about him too. He made her happy. Happier than she’d been in a long time. She loved working the ranch, but she’d always felt like something was missing from her life, which is why she’d dated so many guys. She had been trying to fill the void. But not one guy had filled that void . . . until now. Mason completed her. He made her world perfect.

Unable to stop herself, she leaned out of the saddle and kissed him right on the mouth. The look that entered his eyes was surprise mixed with something she couldn’t read. “What are you doing?” he asked, glancing over to Jess and the other two ranch hands.

“I was just thanking you for worrying about me. But I can’t leave until we get this herd to the pasture.”

He didn’t look happy, but he conceded. “Fine. But as soon as we get them there, you’re coming with me.”

She smiled. “Of course. I love to come with you.”

It didn’t take them long to get the herd to the smaller pasture. Once the gate was closed, she expected Mason to head back to the ranch. Instead, he led her in the opposite direction. “I thought we’d eat lunch at my house for a change. How do sandwiches and some of Ms. Marble’s brownies sound?”

They sounded good, but not nearly as good as making love in Lucy and Honey Bee’s brass bed. She shot him a sassy look before she set her boot heels to her horse.

“Race you!”

Ghost Rider was a faster horse than Jinx, but Becky had size and experience on her side. She leaned close to Jinx’s neck and gave her free rein. She glanced behind her only once and was surprised to see Mason a lot closer than she’d expected. They were neck and neck by the time they reached his house.

She laughed as she reined in the horse. “I won by a nose. And as the victor, I should get the spoils.”

Mason swung down from Ghost Rider and looped the reins to the porch railing. “And exactly what did you have in mind?” He took her reins and tied Jinx before reaching for her.

Once she was in his arms, she wrapped her hands around his neck. “I want you to stop treating me like I’m breakable. In case you haven’t figured it out, I’m tough, Mason. I can handle things getting a little rough. In fact, I like it.”

His eyes turned dark and smoldering. Without a word, he swept her up in his arms and carried her into the house. He laid her on the brass bed, then pulled her t-shirt over her head. He walked to the closet, and when he came back he carried two silk ties. He sat next to her on the bed and studied her with those dark, penetrating eyes.

“Are you sure?” he asked in a low whisper that sent shivers of excitement down her spine. She nodded, but that wasn’t good enough. “Say it, Rebecca. Tell me what you want.”

She swallowed. “I want you to tie me up.”

Their gazes locked as he took her hands and expertly looped one of the ties around her wrists. Once they were lashed together, he lifted them over her head and tied them to the brass headboard. He tightened it with a hard yank that caused her to jump. He tipped his head. “Whenever you want me to stop, I will. Do you want me to stop?”

She shook her head, then remembered that she needed to answer. “No. I trust you.” It was the truth. She did trust him. More than she’d ever trusted a man before.

He nodded before he took the other tie and tied it over her eyes. When it was tight, he brushed a kiss on her lips. A few seconds later, she heard a boot clunk to the floor, then the other. The mattress shifted as he got up, and she heard snaps pop and the sound of clothes being discarded. Her boots were lifted and tugged off. She felt a brush of his warm fingers on her calves as he slipped her socks down. She thought her jeans would be harder to take off, but Mason proved to be an expert at removing women’s clothing. Once he had the button open and the zipper down, he issued an order.

“Hold tight to the tie and lift your hips.” As soon as she did, he pulled the jeans off.

A long stretch of silence ensued, and she could picture him standing naked at the foot of the bed looking at her. Desire washed over her in waves. The waves swelled when the mattress dipped and his warm, muscled body settled next to her. His fingertips trailed along the sensitive underside of her arm until he reached the strap of her bra. He followed it down, and his hand encompassed her breast in a gentle squeeze before he roughly tugged down the lacy cup. He did the same to the other cup until both breasts were exposed and pushed up by the lace and underwire.

His breath fell heavy against her ear. “You want it rough, Rebecca?” When she only moaned, he leaned closer. “Say it.”

“Yes.” The word came out on a croak of desire and ended on a surprised moan when he pinched her nipple hard.

It hurt, but it was a good hurt. He followed it up with a deep, suckling kiss. He repeated the process again and again until both nipples were wonderfully abused and mind-blowingly aroused. Her hips undulated against the mattress, and she wondered if she could reach orgasm from just having her breasts touched.

But before she could find out the answer to that question, his hand moved down her body. Her stomach muscles quivered as his hot fingers dipped beneath her panties. He separated the folds and gently stroked her swollen clitoris. Once. Twice. Three times. Then he pinched her. That was all it took to send her over the edge of an amazing climax.

Before the tremors had completely stopped, he had her panties off and a pillow under her hips. This time he held nothing back. He knelt between her legs and entered her with a hard thrust. His growl of pleasure had desire swelling in her once again, and she lifted her hips to meet each of his thrusts until they both broke through to a climax. They came together in a groan of shared satisfaction. He ended up sprawled on top of her, his heavy weight pressing her into the mattress. But she didn’t mind. If her hands had been free, she would’ve held him closer.

He finally lifted his head and removed her blindfold. She blinked him into focus to find more than a little concern in his beautiful brown eyes. “Are you okay?”

She gave him a sassy look. “From a few pinches? You’re going to have to get rougher than that to scare this girl off.” She nipped at his shoulder. “Now feed me, Honey Bee. Your queen is starving!”

They ate turkey and provolone sandwiches in bed. It seemed so wicked to be completely naked in broad daylight with Mason sprawled at the foot of the bed, alternating bites of his sandwich with nibbles on her toes.

“So who’s your favorite Tender Heart character?” she asked between bites. “I’m guessing the gunslinger Dax Davenport.”

He wiggled his dark eyebrows. “Because I’m such a villain.” He nipped at her instep until she giggled. He didn’t laugh, but there was a sparkle of happiness in his eyes. “I don’t know if I could pick one favorite. I liked Rory for his cool head. Duke for his tenacity. The youngest Arrington, Johnny, for his wit and charm. He certainly charmed feisty Daisy.” He glanced at her. “I’m assuming Daisy McNeil is your favorite.”

She finished off the last of her sandwich. He had remembered the sour pickles and mustard that she liked. The man paid attention to the details. “I like Daisy, but she isn’t my favorite. My favorite is Valentine Clemens.”

He halted with her foot halfway to his mouth. “The prostitute?”

“She was not a prostitute. She was a saloon girl.”

“What do you think a saloon girl did? Your aunt even called her a soiled dove.”

She couldn’t help defending her favorite character. “Well, she wasn’t a prostitute after she came to Tender Heart. She was the one who organized the women and made sure the men didn’t take advantage of them before they were lawfully wed. And she made Lance Butler fall in love with her.”

The smile left Mason’s eyes. “You can’t make a person love you. They either do or they don’t.”

Hoping to bring back the sparkle of happiness, she teased, “Maybe I’ll prove you wrong.”

A dark cloud came over his features. “That’s not going to happen, Rebecca. I don’t do love.”

“What do you mean? Of course you do love. Everyone loves someone and is loved by someone.” She paused. “I don’t mean me and you . . . but someone.”

He dropped her foot and sat up, setting the rest of his sandwich on the nightstand. “We better go.”

He started to stand, but she couldn’t let him leave on such a sad note. She didn’t know what his mother had done to him to make him feel like love wasn’t an option for him. All she knew was that he needed a good hug. And that’s exactly what she gave him. She wrapped herself around him from behind, hooking her legs around his waist and her arms around his shoulders. Then she pressed her cheek to his back and squeezed. There was a moment when she thought he was going to fight her. Instead, he just sat there as if he were stunned. And that broke her heart even more.

They stayed that way until a car door slammed out front. It was followed by a booming voice she immediately recognized.

“Rebecca Elizabeth Arrington!”

“Holy crap!” She scrambled off the bed. “It’s my daddy.”

“Shit.” Mason jumped up and grabbed her clothes, tossing them to her before he searched for his own. A pounding on the front door made her move even faster. But her hands were shaking so badly, she couldn’t get her bra hooked. When Mason finished dressing, he came over and helped her.

“Deep breath,” he said as he hooked her bra. “We’ll just tell him we went out riding and stopped here for lunch.”

She nodded. “Okay, but if he doesn’t believe you, run for the hills. My daddy has a mean right hook. . . and a Smith & Wesson.”

But as it turned out, her father was too intent on yelling at her to pay much attention to Mason.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, little girl?” His face was red beneath the brim of his Stetson. He looked just like her brother—tall, handsome, and blond, but with a little silver at the temples. “When Zane is gone from the ranch, it’s your responsibility to be there in case of a problem. Not gallivanting all over the countryside. I knew I shouldn’t have trusted you with the job. You’re still too young and flighty.”

Becky was about to argue the point when Mason stepped up.

“I respectfully disagree, sir. Becky is one of the best ranch mangers I’ve ever seen—male or female. Except for a brief time today, she’s been working non-stop while Zane’s been gone and doing a damned good job.”

Becky was completely blindsided. No one had ever stood up for her with her daddy. Not her mama. Not Zane. Not any of her boyfriends. People didn’t go against Dale Arrington. But Mason had. And he’d done it for her. At that moment, she did something really stupid.

She fell in love.