by A. J. Pine
One…
The bull’s body jackknifed, but he saw it coming. His body whipped forward and he clenched his legs tight around the bull’s wide girth, waving his left arm over his head.
Two…
The loud roar of the crowd muted Loco Motive’s angry snorts. The bull reared up again launching them both.
Three…
Fuck! Could this get any longer? He curved his back, let his upper body jolt freely with the bull’s enraged kicks.
Four…
His right hand burned like someone had stuck it in a fire. Another hard jerk sent a shot straight to his back, the muscles threatening to cave in.
Five…
Loco Motive spun in a rage, kicking up the dirt, tossing his head back like he’d had it. Lance’s body thrashed, ribs separating, whiplash starting to weaken his neck.
Six…
Every muscle in Lance’s body pinched, sending rivers of pain all through him. Not enough. This ride was not enough.
Seven…
He saw lights. Blurred faces. His leg. He had to get his leg up. Straining his back, he raised his left arm higher over his head and shifted his balance. His back spasmed as he lifted his right leg away from the bull, holding his posture, fighting like hell to keep his grip. The crowd’s praise droned in his ears.
Eight!
His grip loosened. The right wrist was giving out. He hugged his knees into the bull’s sides and flung his left arm high into the air with a whoop. Loco Motive gave one last bucking kick as though he’d taken personal offense to that, and flung Lance toward the corral fence.
A collective gasp hushed the crowd, but elation drowned out the pain in his body. That was the ride of his life. He knew it, felt it. While the bullfighter lured away Loco Motive, Lance lay flat on his back in the dirt, staring up at the scoreboard. Two medics rushed over but he waved them away. He’d be fine. As soon as he saw the score, he’d be fine. It seemed to take forever while the crowd murmured. He lay there under the lights, taking it all in, wishing he would see Jessa’s face in the stands.
“Ninety-four point eight,” the announcer called with an excitement that reignited the arena.
He had to blink, had to squint his eyes to make sure that was right.
Sure enough, the red numbers lit up the screen: 94.8. There were three riders left, but no one would beat that. No one could beat that. His eyes closed and he breathed out, now feeling every aching muscle, every sore bone.
He flattened his hands against the ground, ready to get up, but Tucker catapulted in and landed right on top of him. “Hell yeah!” his friend yelled. “Hell! Yeah!” He slapped him square in the chest. “You nailed it!”
Wincing, Lance rolled out from underneath Tucker and pushed to his feet. The crowd noise deafened him. He waved and started to limp toward the gate, trying to keep a rowdy smile intact for the cameras. But it wasn’t real.
There were thousands of people here. The one person he wanted, though, the one who mattered, wasn’t. He looked around, at the crowd, all watching the replay on the Jumbotron in an awed silence. And he felt no different. No better than he had twenty minutes ago. He’d just taken the world title he’d been striving for, and he didn’t even feel like celebrating.
The crowd, the fanfare, the cheering…none of it even came close to giving him the same rush he got when he made Jessa smile.
Tucker launched himself into another man hug. “I can’t believe it, you son of a bitch! You did it.”
Lance pushed him off and backed away. He couldn’t stay. All he could think about was pulling Jessa into his arms. He didn’t care what she said, she belonged with him. And he belonged with her. “I have to get out of here. Now.”
“You can’t go!” Tucker tried to block him. “You just won the world title, jackass! They’re not gonna let you cut out. You’ve gotta stay for the hoopla!”
He couldn’t. Not without Jessa here. He never would’ve been able to do this if it hadn’t been for her.
And she was all he needed.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
OhmyGod, ohmyGod, ohmyGod!” Jessa sprinted down some steps in the dark arena, trying to find her way out so she could get to him. That image of him flying toward the fence replayed again and again, sending her stomach into a downward spiral. When he’d hit the ground, Lance hadn’t moved. And before she knew what she was doing, she’d jumped up in a panic, stepping on toes and purses and drinks until she’d made her way to the end of the row. But where was she now? And where was Lance?
Was he dead?
Finally, she saw a door and charged it, jogging out into the concessions area. But the place was so big—so many stairs and food stands and doors…
“How can I get down there?” she asked some poor older man pushing a trash can. “I have to find Lance Cortez! I have to get to him.”
He looked down as though embarrassed for her.
“I’m not a groupie!” she shrieked. “He gave me this pass!” She tugged at the lanyard hanging around her neck. “Where’s the staging area? Where do they take injured riders?”
He pointed at an escalator and got the hell out of there.
Gripping the handrail, she stumble-jogged down the escalator to the main floor and tore down a corridor, searching for a door that would get her back there.
There! Official-looking steel double doors. She bolted for them, but before she got there, they flew open.
Lance ran out. Ran! He was running!
“What’re you doing?” she yelled, floating to him in a stupefied jog. “Oh my God, Lance! I thought you were hurt!”
He caught her in his arms, looking her over, touching her like he had to make sure she was really standing there. “What are you doing?” he asked breathlessly. “I thought you didn’t come…”
Seeing him whole, strong and upright, brought a fast rush of relief that made her dizzy. “I came.” She cupped her hand on his uninjured cheek. “Of course I came.” A happy sigh pushed her closer to him and she felt his heartbeat against her chest. “I couldn’t get a flight out until this morning. Everything was booked.” And she’d had to get coverage at the shelter, and find someone to watch Ilsa, and then Naomi and Darla and Cassidy had all wanted to come, so they’d had to find flights, too…
“But you weren’t in your seat,” he said, smoothing his hand down her hair. “I looked for you…”
“I got here late, so I just sat in an empty seat.” Who knew how long it would’ve taken her to find the right section?
She ran her hands down his arms, searching for damage. “And when the bull threw you, I got up and ran.” She peered up at him, all teary and pathetic. “I couldn’t stand it. I thought—”
“I’m fine. Hardly felt it.” He hugged her close, kissing her forehead, her cheek, her lips. “When I won, all I could think about was you. You weren’t there…”
“You won?” She gasped. She’d been so panicked she hadn’t even realized. She pushed him away. “If you won you have to go back in there!” What the hell was he doing standing out here talking to her?
He gazed down at her and his eyes had the power to kill her and revive her all at once.
“I had to find you so I just…ran out.”
“You shouldn’t have.” She never would’ve asked him to do that. “This was your dream. You should enjoy all of it. Everything the experience will offer you.”
“I guess you could say I have a new dream.” He lifted his hand to her face, trailing his fingers down her cheek. “One that matters more.”
Jessa pressed her hand against her chest, tears welling. His nearness stirred a craving, a tingling rush that covered her skin and while the rest of her felt weak, her heart beat strongly.
“Fact is, I’m pretty messed up,” he said, pressing his hand against hers, stroking her fingers. “What I said about you not being part of the family…” His head shook. “It wasn’t you I was mad at. I’ve blamed my mom for everything. Every bad thing that’s happened since she
left, I put it on her.”
“I can understand that,” Jessa whispered.
“But I’m ready to let it go. Get past it. I have to or I’ll never have anything that matters.” His fingertips brushed hers but he didn’t hold on. “You didn’t betray me. You’ve only been good to me. And to my family. I’m sorry I hurt you.”
She peered up at him, and with that one simple apology, it seemed he’d let her see so much more of his heart. “Thank you.”
“This whole week, all I could think about was how you weren’t here.” He inched closer, and she closed her eyes, feeling his presence up against her. “Without you, I didn’t care anymore. I’ve won competitions. And it’s never made me feel as good as I feel when I’m with you.”
“Lance…” There were so many things she wanted to say, but he took her hand, stealing the words along with her breath.
“I want you,” he said through an utterly helpless sigh. “I don’t have much to offer. But I want to be there for you. I want to make you happy. I want to hold you in my arms and feel you against me. Nothing in my life has ever felt as good as holding you. Nothing.”
The quiet conviction in his voice filled her eyes. “I want you, too.”
He said nothing more, only pulled her against him and sealed her lips with his, right there in the brightly lit corridor with people walking past them, his mouth devouring hers, hungry and passionate, as if he’d been saving up his whole life to offer her this one kiss.
It carried her away, the feel of his chest heaving against hers, the strength of his hands as they held her. “Lance,” she murmured, letting her purse drop to the ground. “My God, Lance.”
“Let’s get out of here,” he groaned.
And she couldn’t have said no if she tried.
* * *
“My room is closer.” She wrapped her arms around his sturdy back, holding on as he urged her into the elevator.
“Floor ten,” she said, against his mouth. As the elevator zoomed up, his tongue teased its way into her mouth, weakening her knees, which made her cling to him tighter. The doors rolled open and they stumbled out, moving clumsily down the hall, unable to let go of each other.
“Key’s in my pocket,” she breathed, already undoing the buttons on his shirt.
He groped a hand into the pocket of her jeans until he found it.
As he unlocked the door, he caught her waist and pulled her against him again, bringing his lips to hers as he somehow pushed into the hotel room.
Her feet faltered along with his and before they’d made it to the bed, she kicked off her tennis shoes while he stepped out of his boots.
“I don’t know how I lived without you so long,” he murmured in her ear while his hands tugged up the hem of her shirt. “I don’t think I was ever really alive.”
She opened her mouth to answer, to tell him that she must’ve never really been in love before because this all felt new. Her heart pounded her ribs so hard they threatened to fracture. And it was so good. So good it almost hurt.
He pulled her shirt over her head and slipped his fingers into her bra and ohhhhhh. What was she going to say again? Nothing. She couldn’t speak. She slumped against him while he touched her, teasing her nipples in long strokes while she clumsily undid the rest of the buttons on his shirt until she could push it off his shoulders and run her hands over the hard muscled plane of his abs.
H-ello. Just the sight of him was foreplay…
But looking wasn’t enough. She wanted to feel him, to taste him. Threading her fingers between his, she ducked her head and kissed her way down his neck to his chest, sucking and licking and breathing hotly against his skin. When she reached the waist of his pants, she let his hands go and started to work at that rather impressive belt buckle, but before she could get it undone, he hauled her back up to him. “Not yet.”
Tearing back the comforter and sheets, he laid her down on the bed, hovering over her, those eyes seeming to note every detail.
“I can’t get enough of you,” he breathed over her. “I’ll never get enough of you.” With that, he lowered his lips to her neck, sneaking his hands underneath her back so he could pop the clasp of her bra. Rising, he slowly slid the straps down her shoulders as though he enjoyed the torture.
“Too slow,” she breathed, pushing up to her elbows. She tore the bra away and drew his face to her breasts.
His warm tongue traced every inch of her skin, forcing her head to fall back to the pillows. Without taking his lips away from her, his hands hitched up her hips and he took down her pants and sensible cotton underwear in one fluid motion.
“Should’ve worn my pretty underwear,” she said with a gasp.
“I like you better without any.” He pulled his body over hers, kissing her lips with a sensual rhythm that charged every part of her. God, no one had ever made her ache like this…
His lips moved down her neck again, covering her chest with warm, wet kisses, then moving lower to her stomach.
Sparks flashed low in her belly, sending flares of heat between her legs. She pressed her lips together so she wouldn’t moan. She shouldn’t be this close this fast…
He paused and glanced up at her. “You can be as loud as you want,” he teased. “No one’ll walk in on us this time.”
Before she could respond, he took her hips in his hands, kissing and nibbling his way down to the inside of her thigh.
Her legs fell open. She did make noise then—a long groan flowed out of her lungs, deflating them completely.
“I love turning you on,” Lance said, all low and hot as his fingers parted her.
She felt his sultry breath against her most sensitive parts first, then the slick wetness of his tongue. Her hands grasped for something to hold on to, finding only fistfuls of the sheets. Cries stammered from her lips as his mouth sucked and nibbled while his fingers slid in and out. A powerful tightening in her abdomen intensified until she broke apart, and it came so fast and so forcefully she may have cried out.
Lance’s face appeared in front of hers, sly grin firmly in place. “You might’ve disturbed the neighbors,” he said, playfully kissing her forehead.
“That would be a first,” she admitted, her breathing still ragged. She’d never had a reason to be so loud before. She’d never been so overtaken that she lost control that way…
“I liked it.” His eyebrows danced enticingly. “Let’s do it again.”
“Nope.” Because it wasn’t nearly as fun when she was the only one being so noisy. She squirmed out from underneath him, rising to her knees, which might never stop wobbling. “This belt is coming off now, cowboy.” Her hands fumbled with the brass buckle until it released. Locking her eyes on his, she gave him a small smile while she ripped open the button fly on his jeans and shoved them down, taking the boxer briefs with them. “I can turn you on, too, you know.” She climbed onto him, wrapping her legs around him and grinding her hips into his.
“I’m turned on just looking at you,” he uttered, pulling her so tightly against his body that nothing stood between them. His eyes locked hers in an intimate stare and he brushed some hair away from her forehead. “Seriously, Jessa. I want to give you everything. I want to be the person who loves you.”
She cupped his cheeks in her hands and drew his lips to hers. “That’s enough.” She didn’t need him to be perfect. She wasn’t looking for the perfect relationship. Only someone who was willing to try every day. That was enough.
Still kissing his mouth, she straddled him and adjusted her hips until she slid onto him, pausing there, feeling him quake beneath her. He filled her so perfectly, so deeply, that her body started that delicious throb again.
His fingers dug into her shoulders, urging her chest lower until he took her breast in his mouth and swirled his tongue around the nipple. Urgency pulsed inside of her, forcing her to move. She lifted her hips and thrust down onto him hard but smooth, again and again until his head fell back to the pillow. “Hell yes, Jessa,” he pant
ed. “God, I’m so fucking lost in you.”
“I have some tricks, too,” she murmured, hoping she could hold on long enough. Before it was too late, she squeezed her thighs together, rocking her hips against his, cradling him as tightly into her as she could.
A cross between a growl and a groan purred against her skin. Lance’s hands went to her backside, bringing her against him faster and harder until she was completely lost in the breathless anticipation of what was coming. She tightened her legs around him even more and his body bucked beneath hers, sending a final thrust so deep into her that she came apart again, shuddering and crying out and delighting in the sound of her name on his lips as he convulsed beneath her.
A happy exhaustion took her over as she draped her body over his. He held her, nestling her head into the crook of his arm while his lips sought hers. She kissed him back somewhat lazily, given the fact that her body was sedated.
“I’ll love you the best I can, Jessa Mae Love,” he whispered in her ear.
And she knew it was true.
* * *
He’d never woken up with a woman in his arms. Not once in his life. And damn, it seemed he’d been missing out. Jessa lay against him, her silky back against his chest, her soft hair spilling over his arm. He didn’t want to move, didn’t want to disturb her and end this moment. But he also wanted to see her face.
Slowly, he eased up his head to peek over her shoulder.
Her eyes were wide open in a look of fear.
The feeling of contentment snapped and he sat up straight. “What’s wrong?” How long had she been awake? Why didn’t she look as calm and content as he felt?
She shifted onto her back, her captivating eyes staring at the ceiling. “I just…things moved so fast last night. We may have gotten a little carried away.”
Hell yes, they’d gotten carried away and he hoped they’d do it again. As soon as possible.
“Do you regret it?” she whispered. “Walking away from the celebration? I mean, has anyone ever done that? Will you be disqualified? What’ll happen?”
