by Em Petrova
“When I’m with you, all my intentions fly out of my head. I didn’t mean to lead you on by following you into this trailer. Crap.” She threaded her fingers through the ropes of her hair.
He swallowed. “Just say it.”
She blew out a breath. “West, we had some fun a couple of times, but I can’t do this again.”
He stared at her until she squirmed under his gaze. Even in the odd orangey light coming from the lamp, she was stunning.
“We don’t have to sleep together, Lou. We can just talk. I’ll order a pizza.”
Her eyelids fluttered shut for a brief second. When she opened them, her eyes held a glow of determination. “No. I can’t keep doing this.”
Like hell.
He stepped up to her and cradled her face in his hands. She made a twisting motion to escape, but he captured her gaze. “It ain’t over. Not with the way you melt in my arms.”
“West—”
“Why are you fighting something that feels so pure?”
He must have struck a chord, because she returned his probing stare.
“Our worlds are too different.”
“How are they different? You’re a rodeo doc and I’m a rodeo guy.”
“You’re not just a rodeo guy—you’re the rodeo guy. Your face is on every magazine and half the TV channels.”
“That’s not true. I haven’t made the cover of GQ yet.”
She issued a low laugh. The sound did things inside him. He wanted to hear more of that.
“Besides, I share the rodeo with my whole family. I’m not the only one making the news.”
“Lately you are.”
He pushed out a breath. Should he tell her about the offer of a spinoff show and the network trying to make him into the bad boy of the season?
Hell, I’ve done that all on my own.
She was wary enough of his stardom—he wouldn’t add to it.
“We’re not that different, Lou.”
“You don’t even know me.”
“I want to know you. That’s the point in spending time together.”
She pulled free of his grasp but didn’t move away from him. “I don’t know, West.”
“Your body says you’re not through with me.” He pointed to her nipples, hard pebbles poking at her shirt.
She snapped her arms over her chest and sidestepped him. But there was little room in there, and the bed was a few feet away.
“I’m not only a rodeo doctor.”
“I’ve seen you with your oils and herbs.”
“Yes, but I work at a clinic.”
“Where?”
She stared at him as if struggling to decide if she should answer. “Oklahoma City.”
His heart gave a wild beat that felt like thunder. “You know I’m outside Tulsa.”
She nodded.
“An hour and a half drive from each other.”
She eased her fingers through her dreads, and he was fascinated by the way they parted and tumbled around her face. “West.”
“L’il Bit.”
“Stop calling me that. We’re not close enough for nicknames.”
“Lou.”
She snorted.
“Not close enough? I’ve been inside your body while you came. I’ve felt you flood me with your juices and clamp down on me so hard I thought I’d gone to heaven.”
She dropped her face into her hands. When she looked up, he couldn’t ignore that pleading in her eyes. Did she even know it was there?
“Stop looking at me that way,” she said.
“Not until you do.” He wrapped an arm around her and brought her against his chest. Her head fit so perfectly right under his chin, and he rested there, breathing her in. “I want to know everything about you. Why you doctor at the rodeo. What you like to do in your free time. If you like butter on your popcorn. Why all these loose-fitting clothes drive me so crazy.” He plucked at her floaty top.
She made a low noise, part groan, part surrender. “Okay.” She tipped her head to look up at him. The corner of his mouth twitched into a smile. “One pizza. That’s all.”
“As much as I want you in my bed, Lou, this time I agree with you. We need to have something as close to a normal date as possible.”
“And without the cops.”
He held up a hand as if swearing an oath. “I promise.”
* * * * *
Malou sank to the couch, which was surprisingly comfy for furniture that rolled along thousands of miles of highway. She drew her legs under her and watched West rummage through the one and only cupboard.
When he came out with a roll of paper towels, she couldn’t get over how well-prepared these Calhouns were. Of course, the paper towels probably served multiple purposes, and wiping their mouths while eating pizza was a side benefit.
How had she ended up here? West swept in like an Oklahoma twister and flattened all her defenses. He was the bad-boy Calhoun, had too many women and too many fights. He drove like a maniac and lived it up.
So why was she so drawn to him?
She studied his handsome face as he sank to the couch beside her and rested the pizza on his knees. His every move shouted confidence, and damn, that was sexy.
“Keep looking at me like that, L’il Bit, and I won’t have room for this pizza box on my lap.” He gave a twitch of his hips, bumping the box.
She shook her head at his antics but couldn’t help but smile. The trailer was strangely comfortable, almost like a vignette on a TV set. Maybe it was.
“Do you guys do interviews here so the viewers think you’re at home rather than on the road?” she asked.
He flipped open the box lid and the heavenly aroma of pepperoni and gooey cheese wafted out. West’s stomach grumbled, and hers clawed at itself. “Take a slice. I never talk show business on an empty stomach.”
She reached for a slice and cupped it take a bite. “Eat so you can talk.”
He gave her a level look and drawled, “Yes, ma’am.”
She took a bite and moaned at the delicious grease and spices.
“Good?”
“Mmm-hmm. I don’t usually eat pizza.”
“You’re a tofu and veggies person, aren’t you?”
She laughed around her bite, and chewed and swallowed before she spoke. “Not exactly. I do eat a lot of vegetables, but I don’t like tofu.”
He made a mock gasp of shock, and she giggled. On his angular face and against his rugged five o’clock shadow, his comical expression was at complete odds. But she was able to see the playful side of West she didn’t often get to. On the show in past seasons, he’d been a background character, taking the stage only after his brothers had been married and some kids had been born.
Now he was in the spotlight, and she wondered if he was acting for the cameras or this was his true nature.
He’s not as bad as the media makes him out to be.
She leaned back against the couch and worked at her slice of pizza.
“Are you gathering all your answers, L’il Bit?”
“What?” she asked in surprise.
“You’re observing me. I feel like a growth in a petri dish.”
She gave a low laugh. “I’m sorry. My sister says I do that. I’ll stop.”
“Sister. Any other siblings?”
Her half-eaten pizza slice seemed to suddenly weigh a ton, and she lowered her hands. “A brother we lost a few years back.”
“Older or younger?”
“Older. Hototo was always looking after Maris and me.”
“A Hopi name?
She nodded.
“What does it mean?”
“Warrior spirit who sings.”
“Did he sing?”
“Yes, he had a beautiful deep voice. He knew all the old chants and it became a thing the fans picked up on.”
West sat up straighter, his pizza forgotten. “Fans?”
“You didn’t know my brother was a bull rider? He died from a head injury while ridi
ng.”
He blinked at her, probably thinking of his own brother, Ryder, who also took on the danger of bull riding. “I don’t know his name. Why not?”
“Because he was competing in small venues. It barely made news.” That familiar pain wrenched her heart again. She looked into West’s eyes, and he went utterly still. “It changed my course, though. I decided to become a doctor because of him.”
He nodded and set his pizza aside. He brushed his fingers against his jeans before stroking his knuckles across her cheekbone. “I’m sorry to rouse bad memories. I know about loss.”
“Your father.” She watched his throat work.
“Yes. Sometimes it feels so fresh. Other times it’s as if I haven’t seen him in a decade.”
“I know what you mean.”
“When I’m in that Calhoun circle, though, I feel his presence. Beyond all the cameras and the fans waving for us to sign their T-shirts, I feel him.”
She laid her hand over his on her cheek. A warm spring bubbled up in her stomach, heating her insides. But not in a sexual way. In a way she would have to think on more when she was alone.
His stomach growled again, and the moment was broken. He lowered his hand, and they took up their pizzas. As they ate, he asked about her career and she asked about his ranch. It fascinated her that they managed to operate such a big ranch while away for sometimes weeks at a time competing.
“The money we earn goes into the business. We pay a few people to run it while we’re away.”
“I’m relieved it’s not your mother out there herding cows alone.”
He laughed at that. “We do as much for our mother as possible. She’s given so much to us, and it’s time for us to return the favor.”
She loved that sentiment. Much like the Hopi ways of caring for those who’d cared for you, especially as they entered old age. But Mrs. Calhoun was far from elderly. On TV, she looked as strong and full of life as the rest of her family.
“Where did Wynonna get her red hair?”
“A rare fish in the gene pool.”
“Fascinating.”
“We’ve got some cousins with red hair, but good thing I didn’t get it.”
She smiled, picturing him with ginger hair and freckles. It didn’t fit.
“Can you imagine me having red hair with my reputation? I’d be the redheaded stepchild.”
“You didn’t always have a reputation, did you?” she asked.
“What are you asking me, really?”
She glanced down. “I don’t know. It just feels we haven’t seen a lot of you until recently.”
“There’s a reason for that. My brothers are boring, getting married and changing diapers. I’m the one keeping the ratings up among the eighteen to thirty crowd.”
“I see.” So he wasn’t really the man being portrayed by the media? And why didn’t she trust her gut enough to answer that for herself?
West confused her too much. When he was around, she didn’t know what to think.
Her body sure did, though. His relaxed pose, his hard thighs supporting the pizza box, and his confident manner made her body sing. Her hormones always revved when he was around, but now he seemed to be calling to her on a different level. While her body craved release, it was the conversation, the touching of minds, that made her stop and think.
Walking away from sex—amazing, heart-pounding sex—was easier than leaving behind a mind link.
He reached down to the floor and when he straightened, he held a bottle of water out to her. She accepted it with a soft word of thanks. Why did her voice sound so breathy?
His smile pursed around the rim as he drank. She watched each swallow move down the tan column of his throat.
Tingles of heat washed through her. She set aside her water and paper towel.
Sensing the change in her, he placed the pizza box on the floor. A mischievous grin flashed across his face as he dangled the water bottle over her chest.
“Don’t you dare,” she warned.
His eyes darkened. Maybe he was more bad boy than she’d thought. “Don’t what? Do this?” He tipped the bottle. A drop splashed over the expanse of skin above her shirt and ran down between her breasts.
“West.” She’d hoped to warn him, but it sounded as a plea.
“I shouldn’t lose control of my wrist?” He leaned closer as he dribbled more water down her top. She gasped as the cool liquid struck her too-hot flesh.
“I like you, Malou. A lot. Don’t believe everything you see about me.”
“Are you telling me to look at you with my eyes and not through a lens?”
He pitched his voice low. “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”
She gasped as cold water soaked her shirt. She batted the bottle from his hand, and it flew across the small room, trailing water with it. He dived for her, and she grabbed for him. A flex of his biceps had her pinned beneath him as he nuzzled the wetness between her breasts.
Need slammed her. When she was with him, she didn’t want to move from his arms. The way he looked at her…
He kissed her. A sweeping pass of his hot tongue through her mouth that made her moan. With her nails set in his shoulders, she drew him down. Loving the feel of his weight, needing that hardness pressing against her lower belly.
He wrapped her ropes of hair in his fist and kissed her senseless. When she emerged from the flames that had built between them, she no longer wore a top or bra. How had he gotten them off without her noticing?
“I want you so damn bad. You’re all I think about,” he rumbled against her lips.
Her inner walls tightened at his words. “I think about you too much.”
The corner of his lips twitched, and she dug her blunt nails into his shoulders more. “Don’t look so smug.”
“I am. When a gorgeous woman admits she’s thinking about you, it makes a man feel good.”
“Lots of women would admit that.”
He went still and looked down at her. “They don’t matter, Lou.”
Somehow she didn’t think he was saying that to get her clothes off. She surged upward to kiss him, but he took control in seconds. Ravishing her mouth and scraping his stubble across her skin until it tingled. When he kissed down her throat to her breasts, she worked at his shirt. Fingers fumbled blindly on the buttons until he reared back and let her have the space she needed to get the garment off.
As soon as his tanned muscled chest was bared to her, she spread her hands over his pecs, feeling all the strength harnessed by warm skin.
Though his eyes were hooded, she saw the power she had over him at that moment. She’d never felt such a thing before and had little idea what to do with it. Taking control of her life and her career were one thing, but following her desires to West was another. Could she find a way?
He trailed his lips over her throat. “Just feel, baby.”
His words sent new shivers through her. Her nipples peaked so hard they ached. Seeming to know this, he closed his fingers over each and pinched lightly.
She cried out, arching into his touch. “West.”
“You need me to suck these, don’t you?”
“Mmm.”
“Say it.”
“Yes,” she murmured and then gasped as his tormenting lips captured one bud. He pulled on it softly at first, mouthing her. When he flicked the tip with his tongue, her panties were flooded with liquid need.
She moaned. He issued a harsh noise that sounded primal to her ears. As he bit down on her taut bud, she cried out and gripped him close, arms and legs wrapped around him.
He rocked his hips against hers, pushing upward into the place she needed it most. But too many layers of clothes separated them.
“I need to feel you bare,” he grated out.
* * * * *
He hadn’t meant to kiss her. Or suck her nipples. Or strip her.
But here she lay before him, warm brown skin begging for his fingers, lips and cock.
His hands shoo
k a little. Where to start? He needed to do this right and keep her coming back for more. This would not be their last time together.
He kicked off his boots and stared down at her. Her eyes were luminous pools he could dive into and never surface. He ached so badly that the minute he stripped off his jeans and boxers, it would end too soon. First, he needed to give her pleasure.
He sank to his knees beside the couch. Some water from their battle still pooled on the vinyl flooring, soaking through his jeans, but he ignored it. Malou’s delicious scents drew him.
Catching her hips, he pivoted her so she was half sitting. When he parted her thighs and lowered his mouth to her pussy, she cried out.
He hitched her legs over his shoulders and buried his tongue deep in her hot, wet pussy. She squirmed under his tongue. Fuck, she was more receptive than any woman he had ever been with, and her flavors made him wild.
He licked up her slick seam to the hard bundle of nerves. When he trapped it between his lips, she arched and gasped his name. He groaned in pleasure against her. Juices wet his jaw.
“You taste so fucking good. I can’t get enough of your pussy.” He suckled her clit and moved downward to lick her clean. Then did it all over again, repeating the process until her legs shook on his shoulders.
“West, stop teasing me. I need you inside me.”
“I’m not letting you up until you come on my tongue.” He dipped it back into her soaking hole, tongue-fucking madly. Her flesh squeezed around his tongue, and he knew she was so close. A few more moves and she’d be singing soprano to the ceiling.
Up the length of her body, he watched her beautiful face. Spasms of pleasure crossed her features. Then she opened her eyes and met his gaze.
Holy fuck—could she be any more beautiful? His cock lengthened, threatening to spurt without a single stroke. He zigzagged his tongue over her wet folds and ground into her clit.
Without releasing his stare, she sucked in a sharp breath. Stopped breathing. His heart hammered as she tensed against his mouth.
Then tipped over the edge.
Her pussy contracted on his tongue, and he opened his mouth wide to suck all of her. She bucked hard and pinched her own nipples as her orgasm took control.
I need to be buried in your body.
The words played on repeat in his mind as he brought her down slowly from her high. He gentled the strokes of his tongue until she gave a final shudder.
