Tanner (American Extreme Bull Riders Tour Book 1)

by Sarah Mayberry

  “I’m not throwing you a bone, okay? You’re very sexy. Plenty of guys look at you. You do not have a problem in that department.”

  “So you’d sleep with me? If I got into bed with you right now, you’d have no trouble getting an erection and having sex with me?”

  Good God. How on earth had this conversation gone in this direction?

  “Go to sleep, Evie. Everything’s going to look better in the morning.”

  “Answer the question, Tanner.”

  “For Pete’s sake.”

  “Yes or no?”

  “Yes. I’d have sex with you in a heartbeat, okay? I’d do you till you couldn’t walk and you forgot your own name. Now go to sleep.” He could hear the frustration in his own voice.

  There was a moment of profound silence. Then: “Liar.”

  He shook his head against the pillow.

  “Go to sleep, Evie.”

  There was more rustling of bed linen on Evie’s side of the room, but she didn’t say anything further and he hoped he’d finally gotten through to her. He rolled onto his back and closed his eyes—then opened them again as he felt the bed dip.

  “Evie.”

  “Prove you’re not a liar,” she said, and before he could stop her she’d lifted the covers and slipped into bed beside him.

  Slim legs tangled with his and he made an involuntary sound when he reached out to push her away and found himself touching nothing but smooth, bare skin.

  Holy cow, she’d taken her T-shirt off.

  Chapter Seven

  He snatched his hands away as though he’d been burned, which gave Evie the opportunity to throw her leg over his and the next thing he knew she was on top of him, her naked breasts pressed against his chest, her hands finding purchase on his shoulders as she straddled him.

  “Evie. Stop.”

  “Fuck me, Tanner. Prove you want to do me,” she whispered.

  He could smell toothpaste and rum on her breath, a timely reminder she wasn’t fully in charge of her own actions right now.

  “Evie—”

  She silenced him with a kiss, her soft mouth coming down on his, her tongue slipping into his mouth. A groan tightened his throat as he tasted her for the first time—heat and sweetness and need.

  Oh, man.

  Even though he wanted to kiss her more than he wanted oxygen, he turned his face, breaking the kiss.

  “You don’t really want to do this,” he said.

  “Yes, I do. I want you to fuck me with your big, hard body.”

  He tensed as she slid a hand down his chest and belly.

  “Evie—”

  His hips jerked upward instinctively as she closed her hand around his already hard cock.

  He was only human, after all, and she was gorgeous and practically naked.

  She stilled for half a beat, as though she was startled by what her questing hand had found. Then she tightened her grip and stroked her hand down his length, drawing another shudder from him.

  “God, you’re so hard,” she whispered, her pelvis tilting forward to increase the pressure between them.

  In about two seconds, he was not going to be answerable for his actions. It had been months since he’d been with a woman, and he was not a saint. So he did the only thing he could do—gripping her rib cage with both hands, he forcibly lifted her off him, dumping her onto the mattress beside him.

  “Hey. What are you doing?”

  She tried to climb back on.

  “You’re drunk, Evie. We’re not doing this.”

  He gave her a firm nudge toward the edge of the bed and the next thing he knew she gave a small, startled yelp as she slid over the edge and onto the floor.

  “I can’t believe you just did that,” she said, her voice rich with outraged indignation.

  “Believe it. I don’t sleep with women who are too tanked to know any better.”

  “I know what I’m doing.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “So you’re really going to let that beautiful big erection go to waste?”

  His cock twitched and he gritted his teeth. “Looks like it.”

  “Even though I’m offering you sex, right here, right now?”

  “Evie, if you weren’t hammered, you’d be screaming my name right now. But I’m not taking advantage of you.”

  “Taking advantage of me. What century are you living in?”

  “The one where there are zero regrets in the morning.”

  “Oh, I get it. You’re being nice again. Noble, patient Tanner Harding, doing the right thing by the little lady he’s rescued because he’s such a stand-up, amazing, principled, nice guy.”

  There was so much unalloyed disgust in her tone he found himself struggling not to laugh all of a sudden. Apparently Evie Forrester did not handle sexual frustration very well.

  Interesting.

  “Yeah, I’m a real asshole. Cry me a river. Do you think I could get some sleep now?”

  She made a strangled noise, then he saw the pale shape of her body as she rose from the floor beside his bed.

  “That penis is wasted on you,” she said haughtily before flouncing off to her own bed.

  “That’s not what she said,” he murmured, grinning in the dark.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Hmmph.”

  Only when she climbed into bed did he let himself relax. His cock was still hard as a rock, but at least he’d sidestepped temptation for the moment. A freaking miracle, given how much he’d been thinking about her and how much he’d wanted to slide his hands onto her breasts to see if they were as soft and smooth as he imagined they were. She’d been wearing nothing but a pair of cotton panties, the hot, wet heart of her pressed against him. If he’d given her what she thought she wanted, he could be stroking into slick, tight heat right now…

  He swallowed a groan and pressed his hand against his erection, willing it to subside.

  He’d done the right thing, but it had been damned hard. Maybe the hardest thing he’d ever done. But it wasn’t as though he’d had a choice. She’d been too messy drunk to truly know what she was doing, and no matter how much he wanted Evie, he didn’t want to become a regret for her.

  He liked her too much for that.

  A soft snore sounded from the bed a few feet away, and Tanner gave a low, rueful laugh. At least one of them was going to get a good night’s sleep.

  *

  Evie woke to a dry mouth and a splitting headache. Eyes still closed, she worked her tongue around her mouth, frowning at the stale taste of rum.

  Why on earth could she taste rum? She hated rum. It was her least favorite form of alcohol, worse even than ouzo or tequila.

  And then it all came back to her, a tsunami of memory that made her stiffen in the bed. The conversation with Troy, her one-woman pity-party afterward, Tanner coming back to the room, her pouring her insecurities out to him, her climbing into his bed…

  “Oh, God,” she whispered, eyes wide open now as she stared in horror at the ceiling.

  For a split second she allowed herself to believe that maybe she’d imagined some of the night’s events. Maybe the part where she’d tried to seduce Tanner was a rum-induced nightmare. Maybe she’d simply slipped into an alcohol-fueled sleep before he even came back to the room and her drunken brain had made the rest up.

  Lifting the sheet, she glanced down at her body. Sure enough, she was naked except for her panties.

  Bloody hell.

  She pressed a hand against her forehead, but that didn’t stop Tanner’s words echoing in her head.

  You’re drunk, Evie. We’re not doing this… I don’t sleep with women who are too tanked to know any better.

  Her stomach churned with acid and she dug her fingers into her forehead.

  She was such a dick. The most inept, clueless woman to walk the planet. Tanner had been nothing but helpful and respectful and kind to her, and she had repaid him by projecting all her insecurities onto him
and then trying to make him have sex with her.

  Ugh.

  She lay marinating in self-disgust for a few minutes, but soon the need to use the facilities made itself known. Turning her head to the side, she checked to see if Tanner was still asleep. He lay on his back, his face turned away from her, his chest rising and falling steadily.

  Okay. Good.

  She leaned over the side of the bed, looking for her T-shirt. The action sent blood rushing to her head and she stifled a moan. Her skull felt as though it was literally going to explode. Her tortured gaze fell on the glass of water beside the bed, along with two tablets.

  That’s right, Tanner had left them there for her last night, and she’d assured him she didn’t get hangovers.

  Was it just her, or was this a monumentally sucky time for her body to prove her wrong?

  Careful to keep her head steady, she gulped down the tablets with a swallow of water. Frowning, she waited to see how her stomach felt about the sudden introduction of liquids. It didn’t send up a protest, so she went in search of her T-shirt again and found it at the end of her bed, rucked up in the sheets. She shrugged into it, then crept out of bed as quietly as she could manage. Collecting fresh clothes from her case, she tippy-toed into the bathroom and eased the door shut.

  She stared with disapproval at the woman who faced her in the mirror. Frowsy, tangled hair, pale face, bleary eyes.

  What a hottie. No wonder Tanner had turned her down last night.

  She used the facilities, then stepped into the shower, the water punishingly hot. As the clamp around her skull eased, her brain came back online and more details from last night came back to her. She could remember making the lucid, deliberate decision to get drunk—three cheers for her—and she could remember wrestling with the remote control to try and watch a movie and then finally giving up, defeated. She could remember raiding the minibar, eating her way through two candy bars before she discovered the tiny freezer full of ice cream. She gasped with dismay as another memory hit her—her scrambling on top of Tanner’s naked body and forcing a kiss on him, her naked breasts pressed to his chest, her thighs either side of his hips.

  Just…kill me. Bolt of lightning, straight into the shower stall.

  Then another memory rose up, and this time she had to clap a hand over her mouth to stifle a moan of regret: the slide of her hand down the sleek muscle of his chest and belly until she was wrapping her hand around his hard, hot erection.

  For a second she was so stunned by the memory she had to lean her forehead against the cool tiles and breathe deeply to quell the panic rising in her chest.

  She’d grabbed Tanner’s erection. Not only grabbed it—she’d stroked it, up and down, her hand stretched around his impressive girth. He’d been so hard, his skin so velvety smooth…

  A traitorous, ridiculous lick of heat raced through her as she remembered the feel of him in her hand and between her thighs. Hands down, he was the hottest man she’d ever been nearly naked with.

  Then she became conscious of what she was doing and banged her forehead against the tiled wall.

  You can’t stand here fantasizing about the man you molested last night. What’s wrong with you? Are you completely unhinged?

  How on earth was she going look Tanner in the eye after what she’d done? How was she supposed to share a room with him for another night? How was she even going to survive stepping out of the cocooning safety of this shower?

  No miraculous ideas came to her except for the most obvious—she was going to have to woman up and deal with the consequences of her actions. The thought was so repugnant she reached out and turned the water to full cold. She figured it was the only way she could force herself to leave the shower.

  Afterward, she dried herself and dressed, then brushed her teeth for twice as long as usual, desperate to rid herself of the lingering taste of rum. Finally she’d run out of things to wash, brush or clean. Tugging her damp hair over one shoulder, she squared her shoulders and eyed the closed door.

  It was time to face the music.

  Her stomach dipped and fluttered, not liking the idea at all, and her toes curled against the floor.

  But it wasn’t as though she had a choice. She couldn’t stay in here all day.

  She reached out and gripped the cool handle, reminding herself that, Tanner being Tanner, he’d probably be more than happy to accept a token apology from her and let it go. He wasn’t exactly the type to want to chew things over forever and a day. In fact, he’d probably try and stop her from talking about it at all.

  It would be very tempting to do just that, but her conscience wouldn’t let her. If the shoe was on the other foot—if he’d tried to get it on with her and climbed into her bed in a drunken haze—she’d expect an apology. She’d been a complete asshole last night, and she needed to let him know she felt bad about it. Even if that meant she was about to endure the most embarrassing five minutes of her life.

  Please let it only be five minutes.

  “Just do it, Forrester,” she muttered to herself, and she opened the door.

  Tanner glanced up from where he was sitting on the end of his bed. He was wearing his tracksuit pants, thank God, and his expression was inscrutable as he regarded her steadily.

  “How’s your head?” he asked.

  “Um, okay. I had a headache, but I took those tablets you left for me and it seems to have gone.”

  “Good.”

  He stood, lifting an arm to run his hand through his hair. He looked so raw and powerful and essentially, elementally male, she wanted to slap herself. Had she really, truly thought that this man who could have any woman he wanted would be interested in a drunken, maudlin woman wallowing in self-pity?

  She cleared her throat. She needed to get her apology out of the way before the elephant in the room crushed both of them.

  “About last night.”

  “What about it?” He rolled one of his shoulders, then scratched his belly, supremely at ease. She tried not to let her gaze slide down to where his tracksuit pants were riding low on his hips.

  “Um. As you probably remember, I was a little drunk.”

  “I do remember that.”

  His face was impassive, but she could see the glint in his eyes. He was laughing at her again.

  Awesome. But at least amusement was better than offense. She’d much prefer he laugh at her than hold her in disgust.

  “Anyway. I’m sorry if I said or did anything to make you uncomfortable. I’m not the tidiest drunk in the world.”

  “Yeah, I noticed that. You were kind of aggressive, actually.”

  The memory of her hand closing around his erection flashed across her mind. She glanced toward the window. If she ran at it really fast, she might be able to break the glass and plunge to sweet oblivion below. Anything rather than endure this conversation for a second longer.

  “Again, I’m sorry if I did anything that made you uncomfortable. I was really out of line.”

  Tanner moved toward her. She stepped back, giving him room to pass, but he stopped in front of her, his gaze assessing as he studied first her face, then her body.

  “Give me a minute, then we can finish this conversation.”

  She opened her mouth to tell him she was happy to call the conversation done, but he was already gone.

  She fiddled with the damp ends of her hair while she waited for him to finish in the bathroom and tried to calm her hectic heart rate. She needed to find the perfect words to apologize and move on, preferably with the least amount of additional embarrassment for herself.

  Her mind remained resolutely blank, and she threw another longing glance toward the window. Now would be a really good time to discover she had the gift of flight. Or invisibility. What she wouldn’t give to be able to disappear into thin air right now.

  The bathroom door opened and Tanner stepped out. For a moment he simply looked at her, and there was something about his posture, the way he was holding himself, the way
he was studying her that made her swallow nervously.

  “So. Where were we?” he asked, propping a shoulder against the open doorway and crossing his arms over his chest.

  She hadn’t thought it was possible, but his pants were riding even lower on his hips now, the V-shaped groove at the base of his abdominals on display. A completely inappropriate memory of how hard and smooth his belly muscles were skittered across her mind. She blinked a couple of times and tried to focus.

  “I was apologizing. And—hopefully—you were about to accept my apology,” she said. A strangled laugh made it out of her tight throat, high-pitched and unnatural.

  Why was he looking at her like that? And why was her heart suddenly going crazy, banging against her rib cage like a trapped bird?

  “You drank a lot of rum last night,” he said.

  “I did.”

  “But you’re sober now?”

  “Absolutely. I’d go so far as to say I’m brutally sober.”

  “Good,” he said, pushing away from the door frame, his arms dropping to his sides.

  He walked toward her, his movements lithe and controlled. For some reason she found herself thinking of the snow leopards she’d seen at the zoo yesterday.

  “Anyway…” she said pointlessly, trying to hide the fact that her knees had gone weak.

  He stopped in front of her.

  “So how about we try this one more time?” he asked, his voice very low and deep.

  “You want me to apologize again?”

  His mouth curled into the slightest of smiles as he shook his head, his gaze never leaving hers.

  “What did you want to try again, then?” She couldn’t seem to catch her breath.

  “Ask me what you asked me last night.”

  She stared at him.

  “Let me get you started.” He moved closer, so close that she could feel the warmth coming off his amazing bare chest. “Fuck me, Tanner…”

  His words sent a wave of heat licking through her, and suddenly she was back in his bed, grinding herself against him as she stroked his cock.

  She licked her lips, unable to look away from his storm-cloud gray eyes.

  “I don’t remember…” she lied.