by A. J. Pine
“You want to talk about it?” her friend asked in a tone that wouldn’t take no for an answer. Who was Jessa kidding? Her face was an open comedic tragedy. She’d never been one to hide her emotions.
“This arrangement is more complicated than I thought it would be,” she admitted, going for another truffle. The chocolate melted in her mouth.
“What is? Staying at a ranch with a sexy single cowboy while you babysit his aging father?” Sarcasm dripped from her smile. “How could that possibly be complicated?”
Yeah, yeah, yeah. She’d set herself up for this. It had all seemed so simple. Until her body and heart betrayed her and attached themselves to a man who had zero ability to commit.
“All right. This looks bad. What happened?” Darla asked, leaning her chin into her fist as though she knew they’d be there awhile.
“You have customers to take care of.” And she felt more like wallowing alone.
“Beth can take care of the customers and I can take care of you.” Out of all of them, Darla happened to be the most motherly. Well…if your mother liked to make off-color jokes, flirt with much younger men, and only wear shirts that showed plenty of cleavage.
“Come on,” Darla prompted. “You’ll feel better if you talk about it.”
Not likely. But she relayed the entire story anyway, popping the truffles into her mouth and washing them down with sips of the decadent wine between sentences.
Darla said nothing. She wore the same concentrated expression she did whenever she was testing out a new recipe.
“So that’s it, I guess. I think something’s wrong with Luis. Lance doesn’t care what I think.” That about summed it up. He didn’t respect her enough to value her opinion.
“Am I missing something here?” Darla leaned in, her dark eyes wide and emphatic. “Isn’t he the one who asked for your help? For you to stay with his father and keep an eye on him?”
“Yes.” Exactly. He wanted her there, but he didn’t want to hear what she thought.
“Here’s what you’re gonna do, honey,” Darla said, waiting until Jessa looked her in the eyes. “You’re gonna drive back to the ranch. March that cute little ass of yours right up to Lance’s front door and ask him if he still wants your help with his father.”
Jessa tried to take mental notes. That sounded easy.
“Then, when he says yes—because he will say yes—you’re going to tell him he doesn’t get to ignore you. Since you are doing him a favor, he will listen and consider what you say.” A grin broke through her titanium expression. “Then you tell him he’s not allowed to kiss you again unless he intends to fully finish the job.”
Jessa rolled her eyes. “I’ll take everything else and leave out that last part.”
“Come on.” Darla swatted at her. “What good is taking on a second job if you can’t take advantage of some of the perks?” She nibbled on a truffle. “Trust me, honey. Lance Cortez’s body is one hell of a perk.”
That was one way to describe it…
“Besides, maybe if you two really got it on, all this tension would go away and you’d be able to move on.”
Jessa choked on a sip of wine. “I don’t think so.” If she was going to stick it out at the ranch until Worlds, she couldn’t make things more awkward than they already were.
“Here.” Darla reached into the pocket of her apron and dug out some wrapped truffles. “Take these with you. A new blend. Pop one in your mouth before you talk to him.” Her eyebrows arched. “Trust me.”
Jessa held out her palm and carefully examined the dark mounds of goodness. “Isn’t chocolate an aphrodisiac?” Because she didn’t need any help in that area. Not with Lance.
Darla simply gave her an innocent smile before she stood and waltzed away.
* * *
All the way to Lance’s house, Jessa practiced. She practiced saying exactly the words Darla had given her. She practiced in a bitchy voice, an apathetic voice, then decided that was too much and tried to add a note of sympathy. All in all, she must’ve said the words fifty times and yet as she climbed the stairs to his front porch, her mind blanked.
But there was no turning back now. Before she could overthink it, she knocked on the door. A sudden explosion of nerves blew inside her and she quickly unwrapped the truffle that had been melting in her pocket and popped it into her mouth. Some brand of heavenly merlot leaked through the chocolate, bringing a symphony of fruity notes. Good, fun-loving lord, enough of these chocolates and she’d never need sex again.
The door opened and Lance stepped out. He was dressed in a faded gray T-shirt and sinfully tight worn jeans. They should be illegal in all fifty states, those jeans.
Okay. So maybe never needing sex again was a bit strong…
“Hi,” he said, straightening as though he was surprised to see her. “Everything okay?”
Right. That was her cue. Everything was not okay. But she couldn’t seem to manage the words. “Um.” She cleared her throat so she didn’t sound like Lauren Bacall. “We need to talk.” Because she had stuff to say. Lots of important stuff…
She tried to play back Darla’s badass lecture in her mind, but a steady humming drowned it out.
“Okay…” Lance stepped aside and made room for her to walk past him. On the way, she caught that alluring scent that seemed to cling to him. Something woodsy and sexy. Keep going, she reminded her feet. She couldn’t stand too close to him.
“Can I get you something to drink?” he asked politely, leading her through his family room and into the kitchen, where they’d had their little exchange earlier. Just like that morning, she positioned herself far away, on the opposite side of the kitchen island.
“No.” No drinks. She had to get this over with. She braced her hands against the countertop and looked at him directly before she lost the nerve. “You don’t get to ignore me,” she announced, and wow, Darla would have been so impressed. She sounded pissed.
Lance blinked at her.
Courage bloomed. “I mean, I’m only trying to help, and you acted like I’m causing some big problem for your father. Instead of listening to me, you load him up in the car and get out of there like my concerns don’t matter. Do you have any idea how worried I was?” She started to pace. Once she got going, it was hard to stop. “I searched everywhere. I ran up and down the block looking in everyone’s yard, going up to neighbors’ doors and asking if they’d seen him. In case you haven’t noticed, Lance,” she said glaring at him again, “I care about Luis, too.” A silent round of applause broke out in her head. She’d done it! Without letting him get a word in, even.
Lance’s eyes were darker, narrow. She braced herself for a defensive tirade like he’d thrown at her earlier, but instead he sighed. “You’re right.” His hand raked though his hair. “I’m sorry.”
“You know what, Lance,” she said before she’d had time to process the words. Hold on. He hadn’t argued with her. He’d…apologized? Just like that? “Huh?”
“You’re right.” The man’s normally broad and powerful shoulders seemed to have bent under some unseen weight. “I shouldn’t have brushed you off.”
She should be gloating. That was exactly what she’d wanted him to say. But the clear dejection that pulled at his mouth halted the victory party. “Okay, then. Thank you.” The words sounded hollow and awkward. There was no script for this. Darla hadn’t told her what to say if Lance started apologizing…
“I should’ve heard you out. I’m under a lot of pressure right now.” His jaw tensed as he studied her, almost like he wanted to say something more, but decided against it.
“Because of Worlds?” she asked, trying to read what he wouldn’t say.
Instead of answering, he walked to the table and picked up a magazine, then tossed it on the counter in front of her. “Because of this.”
She grabbed the newest copy of Rodeo World News and her heart sank at the article’s title: “Hometown Letdown.”
Her eyes scanned the editori
al—written by an anonymous source—which detailed Lance’s fall from the highest acclaim in the rodeo world. It outlined his entire career—the early years of his success, the World title years ago. Then it detailed his fall from glory. The disappointing times, the disqualifications, the fact that he’d barely even qualified for Worlds this year. He has proven that he’s not his father, the great Luis Cortez, who at thirty was taking the top score in every competition…
“They’ve decided I’m done. Useless. According to the fans, my career should’ve ended years ago,” he said, eyes fixed on the article.
“Unbelievable.” The words were cutting. Degrading for a man who’d won so many titles, who’d once been a hero. She read the last sentence: “Lance Cortez was once the greatest rider in the world. Now he’s one of the greatest examples of what happens when you don’t know when to quit.”
A stab of pain lodged itself at the base of her throat. “This is crap,” she said, tossing it back on the counter. Her hand shook with the absurdity of it. “Utter and complete crap. You’ve given your life to this sport.” And when he was winning, everyone loved him. They couldn’t say enough about him. Hell, there was a whole display about him at the public library…
“Maybe it’s not.” He raised his head and looked at her but didn’t seem to see her. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to read that? To hear the world saying you’re done before you feel ready?” Those fierce bluish eyes steeled. He snatched the magazine and tossed it into the trash can. “Everything I’ve given my life to for the past fifteen years is over.”
Jessa watched him pace the kitchen, words and anger and passion converging. There was no script for this. No plan for the sympathy that spilled out from inside her. “I can’t imagine what that would be like,” she said quietly, wishing she had more to offer him.
Lance stopped and turned to face her. “I don’t know who I am outside of it. Outside of being my father’s son. Outside of the arena. Outside of that world.”
She got that. Sometimes when things changed so fast, when all of a sudden life looked different than it had the day before, you had to be reminded of who you were. That’s what had happened when her father passed away. She was no longer a daughter and everything in her life was up for grabs.
She closed the distance between them with purposeful steps. “You’re a good person, Lance. A good son. You’ve taken care of your dad. You’ve worked your ass off and you’ve accomplished more in fifteen years than most people do in a lifetime.” The words were softer than she meant for them to be, more weighted with emotion than the conviction she wanted to offer him. “You can win.” She’d seen him out there—that will, the sheer determination that drove him. “I know you can win.” She wasn’t sure exactly how, but her hand came to rest on his forearm, fingers lightly curled around his skin.
“Don’t touch me.” He staggered backward. “Not right now.” There was a warning in his tone that matched the agony in his eyes.
Her hand froze where his arm had been. “Okay.” She studied him, trying to understand what he wasn’t saying, but his eyes wouldn’t meet hers. What was he thinking? Had she made him angry again? “Did I say something wrong?” she asked quietly. She didn’t know what to say, how to ease that tortured expression on his face.
Lance finally looked up, eyes smoldering with a passion she’d seen in him only out in the corral. “You tempt me to forget all of it,” he uttered. “You make me think it doesn’t matter.”
Shock thundered through her. She braced a hand against the countertop and gaped at him. “Wh…what?”
“God, Jessa.” He half-laughed while his head shook slowly back and forth. “You don’t even know how beautiful you are, do you?”
The words were so unexpected she almost didn’t believe them. Lance Cortez was calling her beautiful?
He stepped up to her, and he seemed to be moving so slowly. But maybe it was just the shock of what he was saying…
“When you’re here I have a hard time focusing on my training…”
Her lungs locked in anticipation exactly the way they had last night when he’d covered her mouth with his. “D-do you…want me to leave?” she stuttered. She was pretty sure that wasn’t what he meant, but sometimes it was best to be a hundred percent certain.
“No.” His hands went to her cheeks, his callused fingers stroking them softly. “It wouldn’t matter. I’d still see you.” He leaned in closer, so that his lips were inches away. “I’d still feel you…”
“What happened to wanting different things?” she sputtered, her throat aching with the desire to lose herself in the feel of his lips over hers, his hands on her body.
“Right now, I only want you,” he growled, his shoulders rising and falling with heavy breaths. His hands anchored her face while his lips came for hers—claimed hers—ravaging them in a frenzy of desperation and need.
Every fragment of self-protection she’d managed to piece together shattered in the sheer extravagance of his hot mouth, his tongue gliding over hers, his strong hands sliding down her neck, then caressing their way down her chest.
He groaned into her mouth as he brought his hands lower, running his fingers over her breasts.
Greed surged through her, heating the blood in her veins until even her legs tingled. Everything in her core tightened in a hard pull of sensuous tension. Right now, she only wanted him, too. Needed him to satisfy this overpowering hunger he’d provoked in her. Taking his bottom lip lightly between her teeth, she bit down and pushed him against the counter, somehow tugging his shirt up and over his head on the way. Stealing a second, she stopped to admire him, the hard muscle of his chest, the sinewed flesh stretched over his abs. His jeans sat low on his carved hips. The bandage she’d dressed him in last night was still intact, purple bruising visible around the edges. She touched it carefully.
“I don’t need a nurse right now.” His voice ground low in his throat. A sexy grin flashed before he came at her again, this time bypassing her lips and launching a thrilling assault on her neck. It was melting her, his lips, his tongue on her skin. He edged her back against the wall and captured her hands in his, raising them up until her arms were braced above her.
God, her body was so tight, so ready, she needed him to free her, but before she could beg, he pulled off her shirt in one smooth motion. Kissing her lips, then her cheeks, then her jaw, he worked his arms around her, pulling her in tighter and unhooking her bra with one hand. His other hand tore the flimsy satin away from her body but she couldn’t see where it ended up because the magic of his mouth and hands teasing at her nipples blurred her vision. He buried his face in the valley of her, sighing, uttering helplessly desperate little noises.
Ragged breaths stole her thoughts. Her hands raked his thick, luxurious hair as he kissed and sucked and nibbled until she quaked with need. Now. She wanted him to fill her, to take her. Right. Now. Her hands clawed at his belt buckle until it somehow came unclasped and she could rip open the button fly of his jeans.
His forehead fell to her shoulder as she slid her hands down his hips, pushing down his boxers and jeans, and wrapped both hands around the hard length of him. She started moving her fingers, tightening the pressure, but he grabbed her wrists and brought them back above her head, pinning them against the wall and kissing his way to her ear. “You first.”
She kept her hands raised over her head as he kissed her mouth deeply, his fingers undoing her jeans and pushing them down her hips.
His hands cupped her ass, then one of them slid down and hiked up her leg until her knee was at his waist. The other hand snaked around her body, slicing through the swollen flesh between her legs in one long stroke.
“No need for that,” she murmured breathlessly. She was so hot, so primed, she only wanted him to break her apart. Now.
The grin flickered on his lips again. He finished removing his jeans, pulling out his wallet and riffling through until he found a condom. Impatiently, he ripped open the package and ha
d that thing on before he’d made it over to where she stood.
Her heart beat against her ribs, pounding blood all through her.
Lance slipped his hands under her and hoisted her up, bracing her back against the wall as he drove into her in one long, hard thrust.
The heated grinding pried a moan from her lips. Her fingers dug into his shoulders as he slid out painstakingly slow, watching her eyes the whole way. By the time he thrust again she was panting, bearing her hips down to meet the rhythm he was using to tease her.
“God, Jessa.” He grabbed a fistful of her hair, taking it roughly back from her face, and kissing her harder, deeper. The motion of his hips came faster, all power and strength, surging into her, lifting her higher, grazing the hot wetness. Her legs tightened around his waist, heightening the sensations, until it was all she felt…him. Everywhere. Inside of her and outside of her. With a tortured grunt he thrust again and this time she couldn’t hold on. With a cry of exhilaration, she let go, abandoning herself to the release of blinding sensations, floating atop wave after wave of exquisite pleasure.
Lance brought one hand to her face and tipped up her head. A spark seemed to bind their eyes together. He pushed into her faster, harder, until a long groan punched out of his mouth and his body quaked.
Winded, but somehow still holding her up, his shoulders slumped against hers. A lazy grin took over his lips and she leaned her head down to kiss them again. They were so decadent, those lips of his…so wonderfully sensual and giving.
Lance set her feet on the floor and kissed her back, wrapping her in tighter, pulling her naked body snugly against his, and they seemed to fit so perfectly together.
“You’re somethin’, Jessa Mae,” he said, his hungry gaze lowering down her body.
“I could say the same about you.” Not once in her life had sex been so spontaneous, so instinctual and free-spirited. So close to the movie sex scenes that she’d always thought were contrived and unbelievable.
One time with Lance and she was a believer.
