Page 9 of Roulette Rodeo (Jackknife Ridge Ranch #1)

Her scent intensified in the enclosed space, and I realized with a jolt of pure lust that she was drenched in sweat.

It should have been off-putting—I'd never been attracted to gym sweat before.

But on her, it only amplified everything.

The cherry sweetness, the spiced honey, the wood smoke.

It was like she'd been distilled down to her essence, and that essence was everything I'd never known I needed.

Deep auburn hair, wet with exertion, clung to her face and neck. The color was unusual—not quite red, not quite brown, but an in between concoction of beauty that caught light like burnished copper.

It was long, falling past her shoulders in waves that the sweat had turned into loose curls.

Against my body, I could feel every curve. Hourglass figure was clinical; this was poetry. Soft breasts pressed against my abdomen— and fuck, her nipples were hard, two points of heat through the sports bra that made me want to growl . Her hips flared from a narrow waist, and her ass...

I forced myself to stop that inventory before I did something stupid.

But then she looked up at me, and stupid became inevitable.

Garnet brown eyes with gold flecks.

Not brown like mud or chocolate or any of the usual comparisons.

Brown like expensive whiskey held up to firelight, with pieces of gold floating in the depths like treasure waiting to be discovered.

Those eyes widened as they met mine, and I forgot how to breathe.

Wide eyes.

Flushed cheeks that went from pink to crimson as she stared.

Hair plastered to her face in ways that should have been messy but instead looked like she'd just been thoroughly?—

Her lips parted. Plump, unpainted, slightly chapped from breathing hard.

I was supposed to say something.

Introduce myself. Ask if she was okay.

Do literally anything except what I did…

I kissed her.

Not kissed— claimed would be the better word for what my body was doing in real time while it felt like the world slowed entirely for this pure lustful moment.

My mouth crashed into hers with all the finesse of a breaching charge, desperate and demanding and absolutely inappropriate for a first meeting.

I expected her to push me away. Slap me . Knee me in the balls like any self-respecting omega should when a strange alpha attacked them in a closet.

Instead, she moaned.

Fuck…

The sound shot straight to my cock, and seventeen years of tactical discipline evaporated.

I spun us, slamming her back against the wall— gently, as gently as I possibly could with such a beautiful fragile being —and she gasped into my mouth. The gasp became another moan as I deepened the kiss, and suddenly she was kissing me back with enthusiasm that made up for any lack of experience.

Because she was inexperienced.

I could tell in the way she moved her lips, the slight hesitation before her tongue met mine, the way she seemed surprised by her own responses. It wasn't virginal, exactly, but it was...limited. Like she'd been kissed before but never kissed well .

The alpha in me roared with satisfaction.

Not a passed-around omega with a thousand-alpha body count. Not jaded or broken or used up by the system. Whatever her story, wherever she'd come from, she hadn't been completely claimed by this cesspool of a city.

Her arms wound around my neck, pulling herself up, and then?—

Jesus fucking Christ.

Her legs wrapped around my waist like she was climbing a tree, and suddenly she was straddling me, held up by my arms, the wall, and pure determination.

We kissed like the world was ending.

Wet, desperate, sloppy.

No finesse, no technique, just raw need that had been building since the first whiff of her scent. My hands cupped her ass, holding her in place, and she ground against me in a way that made me see stars.

My hands moved on their own, cupping the backs of her thighs and hauling her even higher, pinning her to the cinderblock wall so I could crush her closer.

I was out of my mind. I’d been shot at, drowned, buried alive, and not once in all those missions had I ever, even for a second, lost control of my body.

But a soft omega, unknown and unnamed, had me by the balls—literally and figuratively.

Her hands were fisted in my hair, pulling so hard my scalp tingled, and the pressure of her core grinding against me through two layers of clothing was enough to make my vision blur at the edges.

We kissed harder, mouths colliding and teeth clashing, the air in the closet going hot and wet and fuck, I couldn’t get enough of her scent.

She was intoxicating; if I could have bottled that aroma and mainlined it, I would have.

My tongue swept the seam of her lips, coaxing her to open, to invite me deeper, and she did—shy but hungry, like she was learning the contours of her own desire for the first time.

I was— I am —utterly, totally gone.

But then, in the space of a single heartbeat, everything changed.

I needed to stop.

To breathe.

To think logically and not fuck a stranger in a storage closet when I didn't even know her name.

I broke the kiss, both of us gasping like we'd run a marathon.

Her eyes were wild—surprise, lust, confusion all swirling in those whiskey depths. Her lips were swollen from my assault, red and wet and so fucking tempting I had to look away before I dove back in.

"Fuck," she breathed, and even that word in her voice made my cock twitch.

Reality seemed to crash over her all at once. Her face went from flushed to crimson, and before I could react, her hand connected with my cheek in a slap that would have made my drill sergeant proud.

I didn't know whether to be surprised or more turned on.

The sting spread across my face, and I could feel the heat of her handprint like a brand.

Slowly, deliberately, I turned back to look at her.

My omega had a strong hand.

The thought hit me with possessive certainty.

My omega.

Mine to protect, mine to claim, mine, mine, only mi ? —

"W-W-W-Who are you?!" she stuttered, demand and panic fighting for dominance in her voice. Then, softer, like she'd just realized what she'd done, "Shit. I hit you."

Oh, she’s a firecracker. I like this…

"You did," I said, and I couldn't stop the grin that spread across my face. "And what are you going to do about abusing a veteran alpha, hmm?"

"V-Veteran?” Her eyes widened even further. “Abuse?!" Her voice went up an octave. "You're not quivering in mercy."

I chuckled, the sound coming from deeper in my chest than usual.

"Oops. I can't with you rather wrapped around me like I'm a tree."

Her face achieved a shade of red I didn't know was possible for human skin.

"I... don't know how I got up here?! B-But... I... don't know you! I'm using my act of self-defense."

"If that will make you stop tightening your legs around me, then sure," I admitted, trying to keep my voice steady even as she shifted against me. "I really can't get any harder."

She shrieked— actually shrieked —and tried to unwrap her legs. But between the sweat, the awkward position, and what I was beginning to suspect was a medical condition affecting her muscle control, she started to fall.

I caught her before she could brain herself on the floor, lowering us both until she was looking up at me from an entirely new position. On her back, hair spread out like a crimson halo, those whiskey eyes wide with nervous energy that was absolutely fucking adorable.

"Uh... my legs aren't really working right now," she admitted, and there was something vulnerable in her voice that made me want to murder whoever had taught her to be ashamed of weakness.

"Great," I said with a huff that was mostly for show.

Inside my swirling mind, I was calculating odds, running scenarios, planning twelve different ways to keep her safe while finding out who she was, where she'd come from, and how quickly I could get her to accept my pack.

Because this omega?

This fierce, innocent, complicated creature who kissed like sin and slapped like a warrior?

This omega was going to be fun.

Like Vegas itself—all flash and danger on the surface, but underneath, a game of probability and patience.

And I'd always been good at playing the long odds, at waiting for the perfect hand.

In poker terms, she was a royal flush in a game I’d thought was just another bluff.

And I was all in.