His for One Night

by Sarah M. Anderson

  Because she’d swear Flash could hear the song, too. With two fingers now, he thrust inside of her in rhythm with the melody as he bit into the skin between her shoulder and her neck. The orgasm began to build and she tried to reach back for him, but he didn’t let her go. “You want more?” he growled in her ear, and she heard the raw desire in his voice, felt it in the way his body covered hers, the way her body covered his.

  Whimpering, she nodded, and then his hand was gone from her neck, his fingers pulled free of her body. “One sec, babe. Do you have any idea what you do to me?” She peered over her shoulder to see him rolling on the condom. Then he lifted her by the hips and she scooted forward on the bed. “This okay?” he asked, kneeling back on the bed and running his hands over her bottom. “Because I’ve got to tell you, the view is amazing.”

  She laughed and widened her pose, bracing herself on her elbows. “I seem to recall this was better than okay a year ago.” Actually, she remembered the shattering orgasm that had hit her so hard it’d knocked her completely off her knees. She’d been unable to do anything but shake while he’d held her for long, glorious minutes.

  No one else had ever made her feel the way Flash did. There were reasons she needed to be careful about him—good reasons, no doubt—but right now, as he fit himself against her, his body strong, she couldn’t remember what those reasons were. All she knew was that he was going to make her feel wonderful.

  “God, woman,” he said, giving her backside a light smack before he thrust into her.

  “Oh,” she moaned in sheer pleasure as he filled her. Even now, she could feel her orgasm straining against him.

  “God, I missed you,” he murmured, withdrawing and thrusting back in.

  “Yes,” she got out, dropping her head onto her forearms on the bed, which gave Flash even more access. He squeezed her bottom and teased her delicate flesh with the softest of touches while he drove into her and she lost herself to the rhythm of their bodies. He’d always been so damn good at this, at making her body react at his mere touch. This was why she couldn’t keep her hands off him, couldn’t kick him to the curb. She simply needed him too much.

  He shifted, reaching around and rubbing her in time with his thrusts, and the pressure built and built, and then he wrapped her hair around his fist and pulled her into him until he could bite down on her shoulder.

  The climax hit and crescendoed, her body tightening around his as a cry of satisfaction ripped itself from her chest.

  “That’s it,” he murmured against her skin. “Come for me, babe. Just like... Oh, God.”

  He reared back, grabbing her hips and thrusting with such force that she couldn’t keep her knees underneath her as the sensations completely overwhelmed her. The orgasm went on, strengthening until she cried out again.

  Seconds later, Flash made a noise of raw lust and collapsed onto her back, driving her into the bed. He managed to roll off to one side, his arm and leg still draped over her. She didn’t know how long they lay there, panting, but soon enough the heat from their bodies dissipated and she shivered.

  “Oh, babe,” Flash sighed, wrapping himself around her and holding on tight. “I...”

  She didn’t know how he was going to finish that sentence. Say something romantic. This time, her brain modulated the key up to A.

  No, no—she didn’t want him to say something romantic. She didn’t want him to make her fall for him all over again, didn’t want him to propose when she was weak for him because, after sex like that, she might just say yes.

  She just wanted to enjoy him while she could, which she had. Now she needed to focus on reality.

  She rolled away from him and out of bed. “I’m still not marrying you,” she tossed over her shoulder as she walked—okay, hurried—to the bathroom.

  She shut the door before he could answer.

  Twelve

  She wasn’t going to make this easy on him, that much was clear.

  While Brooke got cleaned up, Flash flopped across the bed, trying to get his thoughts in order. He wanted nothing more than to pull her right back into bed, curl around her body and nap the rest of the afternoon away, but they didn’t have that much time. Not yet, anyway.

  Okay, he could do this. He was calm, cool and collected and, thanks to the amazing sex, he could think without getting distracted by her body or his dick. Probably.

  First things first—tea.

  Just because he wanted her in ways that continually surprised him didn’t mean she was his. And it especially didn’t mean that he was over her hiding James from him. All it meant was they were...exploring areas of consensus or some such BS.

  He launched himself out of bed, disposed of the condom and hurriedly washed his hands in the kitchen. Then he assembled her tea. The water had cooled a little, but it was still hot enough, he hoped. Then he squeezed in a dollop of honey. There.

  She still didn’t want to get married. She’d made it crystal clear before she’d come over here that she wasn’t going to marry him. What he needed to figure out was if she was digging in her heels because he’d pushed too far, too fast or if, when she said she wasn’t going to marry him, she was really saying not right now. And the sooner he figured that out, the better off they’d all be.

  He made it back to the bedroom just as the bathroom door opened. Brooke walked into the bedroom in all her glory, and he was so stunned by her that he damn near dropped the mug. “Babe,” he all but groaned, his body straining to muster a response.

  She crossed her arms in front of her breasts, still teasingly contained by that pretty bra. “Focus, Flash. We have to talk.”

  “Right, right.” He let his gaze travel down her body, taking in every curve and dip. “Are we talking with or without clothes? I vote without.”

  “Of course you do.” She sighed, but she smiled while she said it. “Is that tea?”

  “Jasmine green tea with honey.” He held out the tea, making sure not to touch her.

  Which was harder than anticipated when she took the mug from him, that satisfied smile on her lips. He’d put that smile there, and he’d do whatever it took to replace it with another one. If she’d let him, he’d make sure she smiled like that every day for the rest of their lives.

  Then she frowned and he realized that she wasn’t scowling at the tea, but at his hands. His swollen, red hands. “Is that from hitting couch cushions?”

  Flash flexed his fingers, wincing. He didn’t like that note of doubt in her voice. “Nope. This morning I found a boxing club that let me punch a bag for an hour.” He’d had to buy a year’s membership, but that hadn’t bothered him a bit. Nashville was where Brooke was—her family, her career, her life. He’d be back in town. Often.

  Luckily, the boxing club had been three blocks from a jeweler’s shop, so he’d been able to kill two birds with one stone, so to speak. The ring itself had seven stones. God, he hoped she liked it.

  Brooke looked worried. “And that helps?”

  “Absolutely. I have a bag at home, too,” he added. “Like I said last night—it’s a controlled release. I haven’t been in a fight in months.”

  “Do you remember what it was about?” Clearly, she expected the answer to be no.

  But he did. “I got into it with Pete right before he and Chloe got hitched—and I was stone-cold sober when I did it. I thought I was protecting my sister, but Chloe let me know in no uncertain terms that she did not need my protection and that I was a jackass for thinking she’d ever want my help.” He chuckled, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “Pete’ll never let me forget that he broke my jaw. Of course, my face is pretty hard. I broke his hand, so we were even.”

  She gaped at him. “Seriously?”

  “Seriously. I went cold turkey after that—had to. My hands were a mess and my jaw was wired shut for a while. But that was the wake-up call I needed. I almost cost my sister eve
rything she loves, almost ruined my entire career and came damn close to destroying the All-Stars—not to mention risking jail time—all because I couldn’t get a handle on my temper.”

  The thing that still boggled his mind was how damned sure he’d been at the time. When he’d overheard Tex McGraw making horribly crude comments about Brooke, Flash had known he’d needed to defend her honor. That had gotten him arrested and nearly sent to prison. And when he’d gone after Pete, he’d been convinced that the man was taking advantage of Chloe. He’d been positive he’d been right both times.

  Now? Now he could see that neither woman had needed his protection. Brooke probably didn’t even know Tex existed, much less that he was a sexist jerk. Chloe had been able to handle Pete and the All-Stars just fine on her own. The only thing Flash had ever done was make things worse.

  It’d been a hell of a hard lesson to learn but he was learning it. Yeah, last night he’d been 100 percent sure that Brooke needed to marry him immediately, and because of that he’d almost destroyed any chance at a real relationship with her.

  “And you’re telling me you have a handle on that anger now? That you and Pete are...friends?” Skepticism dripped off every word.

  Flash took a deep breath. It was all right if she was skeptical. She’d had months with those headlines eating at her. It would be unreasonable for her to nod and smile and pretend his past didn’t bother her at all, especially after last night.

  “We get by. And he treats my sister right.” He cleared his throat. “Just so you know, I called Oliver, my brother. I told him about James, but not who you were.” Although Oliver had figured it out, no doubt. He wasn’t the one running the family’s energy company by accident.

  “I met him, right?”

  “I think so, at the Fort Worth rodeo. Oliver’s the oldest. He runs Lawrence Energies, which is the family business. He’s married to Renee and they have an eight-month-old daughter, Trixie. My dad doesn’t run the company anymore.”

  “Are you really a billionaire?”

  “Me, personally? Probably not. Why?”

  Brooke’s eyes about bugged out of her head. “Probably not? You’re not sure?”

  “I sold my stake in Lawrence Energies when I started riding in the All-Stars to avoid the conflicts of interest. Invested most of it, blew some of it on cars and horses. Bought a nice piece of land a few hours south of Dallas with a big ol’ house on it—plenty of room for a boy to have a good time,” he added. “I get statements from the brokers, but I don’t really read them.”

  Brooke clutched her tea like it was a life preserver and she was trying not to drown. “You don’t even know...” she said quietly.

  Flash took advantage of this to climb into bed behind her. He sat in the middle and pulled the sheets up over his waist.

  He wasn’t going to win the fight to not touch her. As softly as he could, he skimmed his hand over her back. She didn’t lean away from him, so that had to count for something. “Is it a problem?”

  “No, no. It’s just... I didn’t grow up rich, and then my uncle stole most of my money or lost it, and...” Her voice trailed off as she focused on him. “And, in the interests of honesty, part of what set me off last night was your sister implying that your family had the money to take me to court and bleed me dry if I didn’t cooperate.”

  Flash groaned. “Yeah, I can see how that’d be upsetting,” he said, closing his eyes and pushing back against the frustration. The whole point of calling his sister was so she would help, not freak Brooke the hell out! “Sorry about that. The point she should’ve made was that if you have any outstanding bills for his care or if he needs anything else—diapers or, uh, strollers?” Honestly, he had no idea what a baby would need. “Definitely a pony when he gets old enough.”

  Brooke grinned at his cluelessness although at least she was trying to hide it behind the mug.

  “Or whatever—it’s covered,” Flash went on. “If there’s anything you need, just let me know.” He tried to think—what would she want? Then it hit him. “Aside from all the tea you could drink, if you want a recording studio at my place, I’ll get one built. If you decide you want a different house, one we share, I’ll get it—with your name on the title. I’ll start a trust fund for James, too, for college or whatever.”

  She blinked at him. “You’d build me a studio?”

  “Hell, yeah.” Actually, the more he thought about it, the better he liked that idea. Brooke could stay for weeks or even months. She could work on her music while Flash taught James how to ride and take care of his pony or took him to a rodeo. Then she wouldn’t be tied to Nashville. Although they’d maintain a residence here because obviously Brooke would need to come back here on a regular basis. “I can get contractors started on it next week.” He didn’t actually know what went into a recording studio, but, hell, money wasn’t an object. He’d hire someone who did know and tell them to get top-of-the-line equipment. Problem solved.

  “That...” She actually blushed. “That would be lovely.”

  Yeah, that was exactly how he would show her he was good for her. “But the point is, you’ve already done the hard part. I want to make things easy for you from here on out, and I don’t want the money differences to be a wedge between us.”

  “I appreciate that.” She took a long drink. “Anything else I should know about your family?”

  He shrugged. “You’ve met Chloe, who runs the All-Stars, which used to be part of Lawrence Energies, but now she owns it outright. And me.” He launched a self-deprecating grin at her. “I don’t run anything.”

  “But you’re one of the best all-around rodeo riders in the world,” she said, which had him puffing out his chest a little.

  “I try. We haven’t told Dad yet because subtlety isn’t his strong suit, especially when it comes to grandbabies.” Point of fact, the man had gone hog-wild for Trixie, all the more so because Oliver and Renee had named the baby after his beloved wife. It’s not like that little girl wanted for anything—Oliver was much better at the whole money thing than Flash would ever be. But every time Milt Lawrence saw his granddaughter, he had another toy, another frilly dress, another keepsake present just for her. The man was over the moon.

  “What about your mom? Is she still in the picture?”

  Flash swallowed hard as he stroked her back. “She died when I was eleven.”

  Brooke gasped. “I’m so sorry. I hadn’t realized.”

  “It’s okay,” he said with the casual shrug he always used when talking about his mom. He was used to her being gone, anyway. That was practically the same thing as it being okay. “I know now that everyone did a lot to shield me from the chaos, but, obviously, everything changed when she lost her fight with cancer.”

  Mom would’ve loved Brooke. And there would’ve been no getting her away from James. She would’ve known if Flash was doing the right thing. She would’ve loved her grandson, would’ve protected Brooke as if she were her own daughter. Trixie Lawrence would’ve made everything about this better. Flash didn’t often miss her—she’d been gone more than half his life—but right now, he missed his mom.

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” she sniffed, wrapping her arms around his chest and hugging him back.

  “It’s okay. It was a long time ago. Right after that, Dad won the All-Stars in a poker game and relocated the entire family to Dallas. He couldn’t stay in New York where we’d lived with Mom, so we all moved. He started going to rodeos and hanging out with cowboys, and he took me with him. And I learned real quick that there were two kinds of guys at those things—those who were quick with a wink and a joke and those who were quick with their fists.”

  Dad would disappear to go play cards with his buddies, shooting the breeze and drinking, leaving Flash to run wild. Chloe was usually at the rodeos with them, and she been charged with keeping an eye on him, but Flash had insisted that he hadn
’t needed a babysitter and had ditched her whenever he could.

  “That’s where I got my nickname,” he told Brooke. “I was small and quick, and I could get into trouble and then disappear—” he snapped his fingers for emphasis “—in a flash.”

  He’d always looked back at his childhood with such fondness. What kid didn’t love doing whatever he damn well pleased? But now Flash wondered how things might have been different if Milt Lawrence hadn’t been in the grips of a midlife crisis and deep depression following the loss of his beloved wife. Would Flash be a different man today if his father had shown him how to be a different man then?

  Brooke sniffed again. “I don’t know that I realized you hadn’t grown up on a ranch somewhere. You’re such a quintessential cowboy.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment, but I was a city slicker kid from New York.”

  She curled against his side, and it only made sense for him to drape his arm around her shoulder and hug her close. This was...nice.

  “But my point is, for most of my life, I only knew how to be one of two people—a ladies’ man who sweet-talked all the pretty girls or a fighter who refused to back down. But when I’m with you, I don’t have to stay stuck in those two extremes. I can be someone else.”

  “Oh, Flash,” she whispered, looking up at him. He wiped a lingering tear from her cheek.

  “I need to be in my son’s life on a regular basis,” he told her. “And I think it’s pretty clear that sex between you and me is gonna be a thing.”

  “A good thing,” she murmured, not sounding happy about it. “It’d be easier if it wasn’t.”

  Yeah, if he could keep his hands off her, it’d make what was supposed to be a negotiation more cut-and-dried.

  But he couldn’t keep his hands off her, as evidenced by the way he stroked her back. “What about your family?”