“When you said you were a terrible mother?” he asked. He climbed off the bed and got on his knees in front of her. “I was supposed to nod?” He did just that with a lot of animation. “And provide encouragement with my body language.” He shifted his hips toward her knees which seemed more lecherous than supportive, but of course Cassidy's body responded. After all, he just said he loved her.
“You're creepy,” Cassidy suggested lamely trying to take things down a notch. But it didn't work. She was already thinking she loved him back. Maybe they could build a fulfilling relationship with compassion and trust.
“I'm putting it all on the line here,” he moaned. “Please.” He bowed a little at her. “Explain to me why you think you're a horrible mother?” He squeezed her thigh.
Cassidy looked into his kind eyes. She was searching for something that would tell her to push his hands off her lap, get up and go back to her son. Something that would say, it is a very bad idea to get involved with John Risk again. Or something that would indicate John was playing with her because that would most definitely get her out the door. But there was nothing, just love, support, and maybe a tear in the corner of his eye.
“Come on,” John cooed. “Tell me.” He lifted his hand and pushed a piece of hair out of her mouth.
“I left Kevin with my brothers while I worked undercover with you.” The words rushed out of her. “I feel terrible that I abandoned my son. He should have had his mother. Raising him should have been my priority not catching the Highwaymen and their old ladies.”
John nodded. Cassidy could tell it took a lot out of him to not interrupt.
“And you know the worst part?” Cassidy moaned. Her eyes searched John's face for some kind of censure, but all she saw was compassion. “I had to lie to my family about what I was doing. I didn't want them to get involved or worry.” She shook her head. “That is why there's no redemption in this world for me.”
He lifted her hands to his face and kissed her knuckles. “What did they think you were doing?” he asked gently.
“They didn't know I was a cop,” Cassidy replied. She looked down at their hands clasped under his chin. His had scars and calluses while hers showed recently acquired nicks and cuts. Bull riding was not kind to a manicure. “I told them I was in rehab and that was why I needed help with Kevin.” She looked away. “Besides being a recovering drug addict, the story got out of hand and they thought I appeared in porno movies too because I couldn't find work as an actress and they couldn't figure out what I was doing for a job.”
“And the Highwaymen were involved with Naughty Films,” he suggested. He was still talking softly as he moved up to the bed. “It was a misunderstanding,” he said shifting closer to her. “I'm sorry,” John added. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder and pulled her against his chest. “You sacrificed a lot for our work.”
“Now my son thinks the worst of me and most of the time is mortified by me.” Cassidy knew she was talking way too fast and much too loud but John's kindness had gotten her gushing. “Even though I was trying to do something for 'the greater good', I can never forgive myself for leaving him.” She tried to lift her hands to put air quotes around the words 'greater good' but didn't have the energy.
John wrapped his other arm around her and pulled her head under his chin. With her ear pressed against his cotton T-shirt she could hear his heart thumping. “It's okay,” he whispered. He ran his fingers through her hair pushing it off her face. “It's okay,” he told her again.
“Everyone is embarrassed by me,” Cassidy moaned miserably. She wiped her eyes with her fist. She didn't want to cry all over John, but she didn’t pull out of his arms. “Carrie Wang, Caleb's new wife, won't even look at me,” she sobbed.
“No,” John said. His nose inches from hers. “That can’t be.”
“My entire family thinks I'm a slut.” Cassidy wept even louder. Maybe she just needed to accept she had to tell her tale. A soul cleansing of sorts. Something she thought she'd do behind Logan's barn or out by the stream not against John Risk's chest. “How am I supposed to build a relationship with my son?” she asked.
“This is because of that job we did in Venice Beach.” All the compassion had disappeared from Pastor John's face and voice, replaced by L.A. John’s determination. He was in take charge, problem solving mode. “We'll talk to your family.”
Cassidy shook her head. “If we tell them about me, they will probably put two and two together and figure out you're not a man of the cloth.” Even though she vetoed his idea she really liked this combination of the two Johns, a rare glimpse at the feminine side of masculinity.
“Oh hell,” John said. He rubbed his hand down his face. “You're right,” he added.
“Anyway,” she told him. “No amount of forgiveness from my family is going to help me,” she clarified. “I left my son behind and it was wrong,” Cassidy said firmly. She pulled away from John's chest. Okay, she was done with the group hug. It was time to regain her cowgirl sensibility buck up and move on out.
Except Cassidy didn't pull herself off the bed. Maybe it was because John's hand had slipped lower and was now rubbing her back, little circles around her vertebra. Or maybe it was because he was still listening carefully to what she had to say.
“No,” he replied firmly, “I won't accept that. The undercover work you did was important and it saved lives, it wasn't wrong.” He kissed the top of her forehead. She could feel the bristles from his four o’clock shadow. “Please forgive yourself,” he begged, his breath caressing her eyelashes.
She shook her head. “I…” she whispered. She tipped her chin up to tell him her decision was final but his lips collided against hers. Before she knew it her blood was boiling and her fingers were digging into John's muscular back. Oh God, he felt so good.
“Why?” she whispered against his mouth still trying to hold on to some semblance of the conversation that brought her to his room. Except it was impossible because the compassionate, kind minister was gone replaced by the sexually demanding undercover cop. His tongue invaded her, sweeping her mouth with lascivious familiarity. With a moan she pulled him closer.
“Please,” he insisted. “Let it go,” he ordered. His lips worked their way from her mouth to her ear licking her along the way. The moisture from his tongue felt wet and warm against her sensitive skin.
Gripping his shoulders Cassidy cried. “No.” She wasn't sure if she was saying no to letting go of her guilt or to continuing their embrace. She ran her palms down the ridges of his back. Then she pulled at the edges of his T-shirt. She needed to rub her cheek against his bare chest. Feel the soft, fuzzy hair between his nipples.
Once his shirt was off, his fingers found her hair. He tugged at the band holding it back. She did the same for him. Lifting his hair up and letting it cascade between her fingers and fall to his shoulders. It was thicker than she remembered.
Before she knew it, his lips were back on hers. “You have to forgive yourself,” he demanded as he claimed her mouth again. She pulled his hair and shook his head back and forth. He chuckled, a deep rumble in his chest which she felt against her breasts. “You're not going to get off that easily, Cassidy Cooper,” he whispered to her.
Rather than argue she fell back onto the bed taking him with her. His hair tumbled across her face. She rolled onto her side and kicked off her boots. Then she climbed onto him, straddling his hips. She could feel his hardness through his jeans. Dear Lord, no matter the consequences, she wanted him. Maybe if she had sex with him, he’d give up on forgiveness.
“You can't make me do anything I don't want to do, John Risk.” Cassidy ground her pelvis into him. He moaned.
“Maybe I can,” he groaned at her as his fingers worked their way under her blouse. It was red checkered with snaps in the front. The snaps popped. She wore a red bra too. It was her way of celebrating her ride with the men. But now she was riding only one man and he was a rough ride.
John grinned as he sat up, Ca
ssidy on his lap. “Woo-wee, I like the red.” He buried his face in her cleavage. Not that she had much cleavage but John was good at putting his big hands on either side of her breasts and making cleavage.
Then his tongue was on her right nipple through the lace of her bra. “Jesus H. Christ, I love your breasts,” he told her as he licked and nibbled.
Cassidy panted while holding onto his head.
“I'm going to keep doing this,” he told her after another nibble, “until you forgive yourself. Do you understand?” he asked. “You did the best you could for Kevin.” He licked some more. “You need to let it go.”
Even though it was sweet, sweet torture, she couldn't let go of her regrets. They were too deep. She tipped her head back and roared like an animal, “Noooo,” again.
But he wasn't listening as he went to work on her other breast. The licks she could tolerate and the nibbles were fine, but the bites grew harder each time he asked her to forgive herself. She cried out again and again, even pounding on his back. But he didn't stop.
“I won't let you do this to me,” she panted at him. Her fingernails raking down his arms. “You can't make me forgive myself.”
John wasn't buying any of it. “Okay,” he said rationally. “You asked for it.” His hand went to the zipper on her jeans, he tugged. “I guess I'm going to have to bring out the big guns.” He pulled down.
Cassidy reached for his fingers. Big guns, no he couldn't do that. Kevin was a few doors away and—”I've got to ride tonight,” she told this man whose other hand was still on her breast. She couldn't have sex. She didn't want to be sore. And, big guns, what sort of man says something like that? Probably a man who hasn’t had sex in a long time.
“I'll leave you alone if you forgive yourself,” John replied logically. Which was so completely wrong of him to ask, using sex to blackmail her. But so like the man in L.A. that Cassidy had fallen hopelessly in love with.
“This is stupid,” she finally said. She had to regain her senses. But he had already started to push her jeans down. “Oprah would never recommend a method like this to get someone to accept forgiveness,” she lectured him.
John stopped. Thank God for Oprah. The woman had sway. He pulled back from Cassidy’s breast and tipped his chin up. Then he pushed the hair out of his face. “Since I only watched the reruns,” he explained. “I must have missed that episode,” he told Cassidy, “because I don’t remember anything about sex being a bad way to find forgiveness.”
His hand reached around and popped the clasp on her bra.
So much for Oprah.
“You're a minister,” she told him covering her naked breasts with her hands while he continued to slide her jeans off. If Oprah didn't get him to stop maybe that certificate he had in his pocket. “Aren't you supposed to be pure or something?” she suggested lifting her hips.
Then all conversation stopped as he pulled back to stare at her. “A red thong,” he whispered, eyes blazing. “To match your red bra,” he added. “Sweet Jesus, Cassidy Cooper, you certainly know how to turn a man on.” He tipped his head back and yelled, “Yee haw.”
Before she knew it, his mouth was back on her body. But this time he didn't ask her to forgive herself because with devout determination he licked his way down to her stomach. Her body withered under the feel of his lips and warm wetness flooded her most sensitive of parts as he worshipped her. She was his personal shrine. The more she cried out, the more he found another part of her that needed his blessing.
Then his jeans were off and he was hovering above her, ready to enter her most sacred of places. Forgetting all her promises, guilt, and confessions Cassidy pushed her hips up toward him. There was an ache inside her that needed John Risk’s attention.
He pulled back, the first he’d done that all afternoon. “I don't have a condom,” he told her. “I didn't think I'd reconnect with you in this way.” He backtracked. “Well, I was hoping to reconnect with you but I didn't think it would really happen.” Then he ran a hand through his hair. “I thought if I bought birth control I would jinx it so I don’t have a condom.”
Cassidy had to respect a superstitious man as she pressed herself toward him again. Honestly, she heard his words but they didn’t register with any meaning because he was pushing against her again and then he was in her. She could feel the length of him and she didn't slide away or demand he stop.
“I'll be gentle,” he started to negotiate. “I'll pull out,” he added. “I promise.” Then he put his hands on her hips and slammed himself home. She moaned and rolled her head. He was just too damn irresistible to think about consequences at that moment.
“Oh, John, damn you,” she cried out. “Why do you do this to me?” She wrapped her fingers around his head and held his lips at her neck. He nuzzled her with his nose, made her skin goose bump with his breath and planted his other hand on her butt as he pushed into her again. “I shouldn't be doing this,” she continued. “I don't want to get pregnant.” Then again, Cassidy had always been reckless.
Trying to gain some sort of control over the situation, she pulled his head up to eye level. But instead of telling him to stop, she said, “No pregnancy.” She looked into his unfocused pupils. “Do you hear me?” She shook his head back and forth. “No baby out of this moment of indiscretion,” her voice losing all its conviction as her climax exploded.
* * * *
After kissing Cassidy on the forehead John rolled off of her.
No, he didn’t respect her wishes and pull out. Honestly he couldn't help it. His entire soul needed to be with her until the end. Yes, he was selfish and an idiot but he wanted her.
No matter how inappropriate his behavior was, he knew deep down he also wanted to plant his seed in her. Yes, it sounded barbaric, even vulgar but it was the only way he could think of to unite her with him because he was positive she’d say no if he proposed marriage.
Was it a healthy way to go about creating that bond—absolutely not?
But guess what, John wasn't very good at making healthy decisions even after receiving a certificate in religious training. And Cassidy certainly had a wild way about her too. Maybe they needed this. Maybe a child would force them to drop all their emotional baggage and just be together. No questions asked.
John turned his head and looked at her. With her forearm over her forehead she was staring at the ceiling. “You okay?” he asked. For a man who had studied comfort words he wasn’t coming up with much to say.
“I'm a reckless, careless, hasty person,” she told him. She moved her forearm over her eyes. “I've always been that way.” She let her arm flop onto his chest. “That's why I did this with you and that's why I'll never find peace.”
He tried to hold her hand but she pulled it away. Since he couldn't ease her with his body he decided to try words again. “You're also adventurous, brave, and bold.” He rolled toward her.
She continued to stare at the ceiling. She didn't even smile. Then she sat up. “I'm going home,” she announced. She dug around the bed looking for her jeans. With a slap on John's thigh she pulled them out from under his butt. When she found her thong, she shoved it in her pocket.
As she pulled her blouse on and snapped it together, John tugged his underwear on and stood up. “Why,” he asked, “do you have to leave now? He looked around the room. He wanted to find something, anything to keep her from leaving. Then he remembered what got her over here. Talk. “We could talk some more,” he suggested.
She shook her head, pushed her feet into her boots and was gone before John had a chance to come up with a better idea. “Okay, no sex or talk,” he negotiated with his recently slammed door. “What about a walk?” He knew he was lacking as always but he wasn't going to stop trying. He lost her once due to his stupidity and he wasn’t going to lose her again.
Chapter Seven
The bull Cassidy drew was big, close to fifteen hundred pounds. Plus, he was accomplished with a ninety percent buck off rate and an average score of fo
rty-two. But his name was Daisy Rose and he had pink tips at the end of his horns so Cassidy decided he wasn't intimidating. She even gave him a pat on the head like she did Kevin when he was a boy.
“You sure you can ride him?” Her son, who wasn’t much of a boy any longer asked. He pushed his cowboy hat back and rubbed his head. “You know Mal went up against an entire bar of brown coats in episode two of Firefly and one of the guys was at least three times his size.” Kevin glanced at the bull again. “Daisy's probably ten times your size and you're not Mal and this isn't a television show so you probably won't win.”
Cassidy was really glad Kevin had the ability to separate fantasy from reality because she had been getting worried about that. Except she wished Kevin wasn't sharing his observations with her right now. “I appreciate your concern,” she told her teenage son, “but this bull isn't a brown coat.” All the parenting books had recommended validating your child's feelings no matter the time or place. “Thanks for the warning,” she added weakly.
Daisy Rose snorted and backed her butt against the gate. The entire chute shook. Kevin moved slowly away from the fence. He shoved his hands in his pockets. “You sure you should do this?” he asked again. “Dustin Nance broke his elbow getting bucked off this same bull last week.”
“That's not going to happen to me,” Cassidy replied brightly. She refused to jinx herself, no broken bones allowed. What was up with Kevin? Last time it was the coccyx and now it was elbows. Then again, maybe this wasn’t about superstition, maybe her son was genuinely scared for her. She knew it was important to encourage him to share his fears but she still wasn’t sure if this was the right time.
The bull snorted as if laughing at her impromptu parenting dilemma. “If you've got any other worries,” she suggested deciding anytime was the right time, “may as well lay them out now.” She gestured toward the saw dust covered floor.
The Bull Rider Wears Pink Page 9
