Free Cowboy Redemption (Down Under Cowboy Book 6) by Kasey Millstead Page A

blood is heated and I’m so incredibly turned on.  The bulge in his pants suggests I am not alone.  I smile, unable to help myself.
    “I better go,” he says, his voice rough.
    “Yeah.  Good idea.”  As much as I would love to drag him into my room, I won’t.  Just stay .  The words are on the tip of my tongue, but my resolve is stronger.  I am going to do things right this time.
    Slow.
    “I’ll see you tomorrow.  Sweet dreams, angel.”  He kisses my forehead and sweeps his thumb across my chin.
    “See you,” I whisper.
    He pulls on his boots and walks out the door.  Stopping before he disappears into the humid night, he turns and throws me a wink and smirk.  Then, he is gone.  I close the door and rest my back against it.  Closing my eyes, I silently will myself to keep it together.  To not race out the door, screaming out to him to come back and relieve the incessant ache that is pulsing between my legs.
    Be strong.
    Go slow.
    You can do this.
    “I need a cold shower,” I mutter. 
    Sighing, I push off the door and make my way into the bathroom.
    An orgasm would be so much better than a shower…

CHAPTER NINE
     
    Kye – 6 months ago
     
    “Let’s go, Raiders’ fans!  We want to hear you scream!”   The commentator’s voice is instantly drowned out by the roar of the thousands of fans, shouting and stomping from their seats in the stadium.
    “Ah, come on, Raiders.  Let me hear you!” he booms, geeing up the crowd even further.
    My blood thrums through my veins.  Adrenalin circulates through my system.  A smile appears on my face. 
    This is what I love.
    “Boys, you know what to do.  Get out there and stick to our game plan.  Complete your sets, make your plays and handle the balls well.  Let’s concentrate on reducing errors and just running the ball,” Coach says.  He slaps us each on the back as we make our way past him and down the tunnel before jogging out onto the field. 
    We go straight to our positions and the whistle is blown.  The ball comes to me and lands heavily against my chest.  I run it, charging at the opposition before slamming into their player.  He takes me to ground and I stand, playing the ball to my teammate.
    Ten minutes later, I get the ball again.  Charging through the defensive line, I lead with my shoulder and bust through.  I can see the try-line ahead, and I secure the ball under my arm, running as fast as I can.  The opposition is hot on my heels. I can hear the thud of their boots as they hit the grass behind me, closing in.  The man behind me dives, sweeping his arm out and making contact with my ankle.  I stumble.  My arm carrying the ball extends as I crash to the turf, over the white line.
    Try time!
    I’m lifted into the air by my teammates, as they slap my back and rub my head, shouting words of congratulations.
    “Let’s go, boys, let’s build on this!” I yell, as we wait for our kicker to convert the try.
    By halftime, we’re leading in a close contest.  At twelve points to ten, the game could easily be lost by us. 
    “Good first half, boys, but you have to piss those silly little errors off.  You’re giving away penalties on their fifth tackle, letting them out of their own end way to easy.  You might as well be giving them the game,” Coach roars.  “Now get back out there and show me what you’re made of!”
    We run back out onto the field, determine to own this game.
    “This is ours, men!  Let’s do it!” our Captain shouts, clapping his hands and pumping us up.
    “Go Raiders!”
    “I love you, Kye.”
    “Go, Kye!”
    “Come home with me tonight, Kye.”
    I block out the screaming crowd and concentrate on doing my job.  The partying will come after the match, but for now, it’s game time.
    There’s five minutes to go and I have the ball.  I pass it left and my teammate fumbles as the opposition crashes into him, knocking him to the ground.  The ball bounces away.
    “Fuck!” I roar.  We pack a