by Em Petrova
But in the morning, it most definitely wasn’t.
Chapter Five
A banging on her door woke Joy from a sound sleep—and a scorching dream involving Ryder’s lips on her body. She bolted upright, looking around, dazed and wondering where the hell the sound was coming from.
“Joy! Open up!”
She narrowed her eyes at the door. “Daddy?”
No, it wasn’t his voice. It was…
Ryder’s.
She leaped out of bed and tripped over her boots she’d cast off last night. She nearly brained herself on the corner of the cheap hotel dresser but somehow caught herself.
“Joy!” More thunderous banging. What time was it?
She made it to the door and attempted to look out the peephole but her sleep-filled eyes weren’t working properly. Giving up, she opened it to see a very angry Ryder standing in front of her.
His eyes looked like two red holes burned into a blanket. Beyond bloodshot into painful-to-look-at. She opened the door the rest of the way.
His gaze dropped to her breasts, free beneath her camisole. Suddenly her panties felt too small.
Stepping around the side of the door to shield herself, she said, “What are you doing here?”
He didn’t respond at once. Then he pushed past her into her room, his phone in his hand. “Do you know anything about that news clip this morning?”
“What?” She shook herself. He was in her room, too close and looking luscious after her sexy dream. Her panties were already damp with want for him.
Again, he raked his gaze over her state of undress. “God help me,” he muttered, scrubbing his hand over his face. “Get dressed. I can’t talk to you looking like that.”
She reached for the nearest discarded clothing, which was a cardigan sweater. She pulled it on and wrapped it across her front. It didn’t cloak her bare legs from his gaze, and he latched onto them for a long heartbeat before thrusting out his phone.
“What am I looking at?”
He tapped a few screens and a video appeared. One of the sports reporters for ESPN that spent a lot of time covering the rodeo scores—as well as the Calhouns.
“A scandal has broken out with reports of barrel racing extraordinaire Wynonna Calhoun having an affair with reality show production manager Ethan Bellasi. Bellasi has been working with the Calhoun family since last summer when the show Rope ‘n Ride began filming. Apparently during this time, Wynonna has gotten close to the manager. Now the couple is reported to have split. Will this cause trouble for the Calhouns? Will their show be cancelled? Whatever takes place, you know it will be something to tune in for.”
“Ethan,” she whispered. “Damn, she was sleeping with the manager?”
Ryder’s jaw set and his brows drew down, punctuating his anger. He looked good enough to eat up, and she wanted to tumble him back into her messy bed and have her way with him.
“I didn’t believe it when Wynonna said you’re the one who told the media about her and the manager. Fuck, Joy! I can’t believe it.”
She blinked, all her lust burning off, leaving her cold and empty in front of a man who was pissed off—at her.
“You don’t think I did this, do you?”
“Yeah, I do. Not many knew about it.”
“Why would I tell? I didn’t even know he was the manager. Wynonna only told me about some guy named Ethan she wished she hadn’t gotten tangled up with. I’m beginning to feel the same.”
“Dammit, I’m nothing like Bellasi. For one, I’m not ten years older than you.”
“No, but you’re stupider. Thinking I’m the source in this scandal?” She wagged her head, a hand set on her hip.
“I must be stupid because I want to turn you over my knee and spank you—and then plunge my fingers into your wet pussy and make you scream my name,” he shot back.
Heart lurching, she stared at him, trying to keep up with his sudden change. “What?”
He took a step forward. “You heard me. If you don’t confess, I’m going to actually do it.”
“And if I don’t? I’m not guilty, you know.” She stepped back.
He kept coming, his broad chest filling her vision. “Then I’ll still spank you and make you scream in pleasure.”
A rough breath left her, and she found herself up against something soft. The mattress.
In a blink, Ryder was on her. Sailing into the covers with her, his mouth on hers and his denim-clad thigh shoved right against her pussy. She couldn’t stop herself from wiggling against it, grinding and taking what she’d been aching for even in her dreams.
He wore a leather vest, and the scent dizzied her senses. She wrapped her arms around him and kissed him back with everything she had inside her.
“Jesus, you’re soaking wet, Princess.”
“I was dreaming,” she murmured between heated kisses.
He fell still. “About who?”
She searched his gaze, saying nothing.
“Me?” he rasped.
She nodded.
A growl escaped him, and he was on her again, tongue delving into her mouth, his thumb on her nipple, nudging it back and forth until it couldn’t get any harder.
Need rocked her. She ripped his vest off his shoulders. He braced himself on one arm and then the other to let her peel it off him. The shirt beneath had far too many buttons, and she bit his lower lip in frustration.
He rolled with her, dragging her on top of him to straddle his fine hips and bulging jeans. “How did this happen?” she panted. “You come here to yell at me and accuse me of outing Wynonna and now I’m on top of you?”
His gaze scorched her. Easing his hand between their bodies, he stroked her swollen clit with his thumb. Through her panties, it was the most insane sensation she’d ever known. She didn’t want to admit it, but her head might have fallen back and his name might have been on her lips, just as he’d suggested would happen a few minutes before.
As he pressed her clit into her body, he hooked his hand around her nape and drew her down for a kiss. Without opening her eyes, she gave in to him. What was the matter with her? She was still sleep-drunk from that dream. Or she’d been bewitched by the gorgeous bull rider.
Or I just want him more than I’ve ever wanted anything.
A shudder ran through her as he worked her nub. Her panties were drenched, but she was far from caring. The pad of his thumb against her bundle of nerves was too good. Memories of his expert tongue doing the same thing the previous day made her insides clench.
“So responsive. I want you, Princess.” He eased inside the leg of her panties. She cried out when his warm hand met her needy flesh. Without hesitation, he thrust two fingers deep into her channel while circling her clit with his thumb.
Shaking, she held onto him for dear life. “Ryderrrrr.”
“Come for me, Princess. Say my name again.”
She couldn’t breathe let alone formulate syllables. She writhed against his hand as the knot in her core stretched tight—and snapped.
Contractions struck, stealing her mind. She was wild in his arms as he stroked the release from her with nothing but his fingers and soft, urging words. These fireworks were better than any she’d seen at the end of a rodeo.
Collapsing atop him, she became aware of his lips moving over her hair and his hand on her ass.
“I didn’t…tell anybody about Wynonna. How could I…when I didn’t know what was even going on?” She panted for air between her words.
“I believe you,” he said at once.
She pushed back to look at him, and saw something hot and intense in his eyes, like he’d been plugged into an outlet. Lit up from the inside.
“Do you?” she asked.
“I don’t think you’re able to lie to me.”
“How do you know?”
“Your reactions to me are so pure.”
Heat climbed her neck and face. He gave her an adorable crooked smile and kissed her lightly on the forehead. She snugg
led against him, ignoring her own mind’s protests about him being all wrong for her.
Because deep down, she was seriously thinking about more with Ryder.
“I’m sorry Wynonna’s going through this. Will it be okay?” She inhaled his scent, aware of the bulge still against her. Why hadn’t he gone on with the lovemaking?
He bundled her hair off her face and nibbled her ear. “We’ll stand strong together. But I’ve gotta go. There’s a meeting with the press and I can’t be late.”
She levered away from him to look into his eyes. “You’re…leaving? Like this?” She pushed against his erection, and his eyelids closed.
He reopened his eyes. “I’ve got what I need for now.” He brought his fingers to his nose and breathed deeply before sucking them into his mouth.
She blushed hotter, and he chuckled, easing her off him and into the twisted sheets.
She lay staring up at him as he put on his shirt and vest again. Feeling frustrated. Wanting him and hating herself for it. She wasn’t the type to chase a man or beg for his attention.
He stopped to lean over her, his hat shading his eyes but his warm, minty breath washed across her face. “We’re having a family baseball game before the rodeo gets rolling this afternoon. You know the dirt patch just outside the south end of the grounds?”
She nodded.
“Meet me there.” He planted a hard kiss on her lips, almost branding her. Then he straightened and brushed his fingers under his nose again. “Don’t leave me hanging.”
With that, he went out of the room, leaving her to wonder what the hell had just happened. Had it all been a dream? No, the little aftershocks in her body were testimony that he’d actually been here in this room with her.
She flipped onto her side, thinking of him and his family members believing she’d been the one to cause the news report. If Wynonna had been caught up with this production manager, chances were she hadn’t been totally cautious about hiding it. Love did that.
Not that Joy would know—she’d never been in love.
But she was so entangled with Ryder that if he grabbed her right off the fairgrounds and kissed her senseless, she wouldn’t give a damn who was watching, including her father.
Throwing a glance at the clock, she calculated how much time she had to get showered and head down to meet her father and the two cowboys riding bulls under his tutelage today. Would she have enough time to meet Ryder? Did she dare stand him up?
He was bold enough to come after what he wanted—and that turned her on like nobody’s business. But if his family believed she’d played a role in hurting Wynonna, how welcome would she be?
* * * * *
Ryder led off with his boot off the makeshift home plate, which happened to be an old pizza box dropped into the dirt. Lane was pitching and Ridge was at the ready, shifting from side to side, prepared to catch the ball and get Ryder out on first.
They sometimes had games like these—it took their minds off scoreboards and anything with four hooves. After the story had come out that morning, they all needed it.
Three-on-three with film crews all over the playing field. A crowd was slowly gathering on the sidelines, but Joy wasn’t here. If she stood him up, he wasn’t going to forget his promise to spank her ass.
The thought of her sweet behind under his palm made his balls clench. He tamped down on his desires—he couldn’t run to second base with a stiff rod in his Wranglers.
Thinking of bases sent his mind whirring, though.
She’d been so out of control this morning, wriggling and writhing against his fingers to take what she most needed. He could still hear her little squeaks and her scents still lingered on his fingers.
“Ghost runner stole home!” Ridge called.
Buck straightened. “What? There aren’t any ghost runners on base.” If they didn’t have enough players to bat and run, they often put “ghosts” on base. “You’re always making up ghosts, Ridge.”
“No ghost runner!” Lane was on Buck’s side—always.
“I swear I just saw him streak in and slide.” Everyone laughed at Ridge’s craziness, including the production crew and the first few rows of pretty girls watching from the side.
“Just get back to the game,” Lane said. Buck pitched, West swung, and before the ball cracked the old Louisville Slugger they hauled in the back of the truck, serving double duty as a weapon if they were ever set upon, Ryder took off.
He barely rounded second, making toward third, when he caught a flash of dark hair from the corner of his eye. He scrambled for purchase, his boots slippery in the fine dust. Damn this Cheyenne dirt. Of course, it had nothing to do with Joy looking on.
“Stop Jell-O-necking and move your ass, Ryder!” West hollered.
Ryder’s ball was still rolling too far out for anybody to streak after it that fast. Wynonna tried her best, though, long legs pumping and hair flying. Several cameras followed her progress.
Ryder hit third, and a whoop went up. He turned and flashed West a grin before facing Joy.
She stood on the sidelines, separate from the crowd. Though she was quite friendly, he saw her as a private person who walked her own path. Right now he wanted her to walk straight to him.
“Joy’s on my team,” he called. “We don’t need a ghost batter.”
They all froze. Wynonna had jogged back in time to hear this, and her eyes shot flames. Good thing there wasn’t any dry brush around or they’d have to call in the smoke jumpers.
“Why’d you invite her?” Wynonna asked.
Joy didn’t move, just folded her arms. But he could tell by her expression that she was wondering the same thing. Hell, he’d hardly been thinking about the predicament of earlier that day—he just wanted her with him.
He glared at his sister. “You don’t really want to air this right here and now, do you?” He swept his hand out to the onlookers.
Wynonna hustled to third base. She was nearly as tall as he was, with a hotter temper and unlike him, almost never played by the rules. If they solved this issue right here on the field with thirty of their biggest fans as witnesses, she wouldn’t care.
“You know it was her,” Wynonna said.
“How could it be? She didn’t even know what was going on. All you did was tell her the guy’s name.”
“She must have Googled it and put two and two together.”
On the side, Joy jerked forward as if to come out and resolve this herself but Ryder’s instinct to protect her rose up. Wynonna was a force to be reckoned with when upset—like a fire tornado, singeing and destroying everything in her path. Not that he didn’t believe Joy had a will of steel, but he didn’t want things to start this way.
He wanted his family to like Joy as much as he did.
Placing his hand on his sister’s arm, he ducked his mouth toward her ear. “She had nothing to do with it. If you weren’t careful about being seen or overheard—”
“We were very careful,” she said in a low, intense way.
“So deny it all. Nobody has any proof.”
She turned her head aside, and all the skin on his neck prickled. He tightened his grip on her arm, and she wrenched it from him.
“Nobody has any proof, right?” His mind galloped ahead, imagining sex tapes and incriminating Instagram pictures.
Wynonna met his gaze. Her eyes welled with tears, and this time his protective instinct kicked in full-blast.
“Oh fuck.” He took her in his arms and she rested her head on his shoulder, trembling with suppressed tears.
“What the hell’s going on? We playing ball or what?” West heckled.
“You just wanna score. Your team never wins,” Lane said.
“That’s because Ryder’s always out on third base hugging some woman. This time it just happens to be our sister,” Ridge drawled.
Ryder released Wynonna and twisted in time to see Joy’s back. Ramrod straight, her long ponytail swaying as if hardwired to her brain and running on vol
ts of anger.
“Why would you say that?” Ryder took off after her. He didn’t give two fucks about the game or who saw him go after Joy. This could be his last chance with her. He wasn’t letting anybody screw it up.
“Joy!” he called.
She continued to speed-walk away from him, but his legs were longer. Throwing a desperate glance over her shoulder, she attempted one last sprint. He caught her around the middle and hauled her off her feet, dragging her between two parked trucks. One belonged to his biggest competitor.
“Let me go,” she huffed, kicking at him.
He planted her boots in the dirt and turned her firmly to face him, keeping hold of her. “What Ridge said back there—it isn’t true.”
Her gray eyes sparked with anger and something much deeper—hurt. But they also did something to him. “Do you know when you look at me that way it’s like you’re seeing all the empty spaces inside of me?”
She blinked up at him, her ripe red lips falling open.
“Dammit, Joy. I like you. Probably more than like. Don’t listen to a word my family says.”
She looked past him, and he twisted, expecting a camera. He wasn’t wrong.
“Shit fucking goddamn hell,” he muttered. It was the same guy who Ryder had attacked the previous day. He couldn’t do it again or he’d be off the show for sure. And he didn’t want to display that kind of behavior to the woman he wished to keep in his life.
Drawing a deep breath, he entangled his fingers with Joy’s and turned to face the camera guy.
“Look, I’m sorry about yesterday. I was out of line.”
The young guy nodded and smiled, obviously not holding a grudge. No doubt he thought this was a fun gig—filming a pissed-off cowboy who happened to ride bulls to supplement his income.
“It’s fine, dude.” He held out his hand, and Ryder gave it a hard shake. With all smoothed between them, the camera guy said, “There was word that the first event is starting early. Something to do with a time slot screw-up. Calhoun circle is in five minutes.”
“Crap. Thanks for letting me know.”
