She makes a squealy laughing noise as I change the bull’s direction, drops her hand for a second before shooting it back up. She rolls her hips, rocking back and forth, in time with the bull. Damn if the girl doesn’t have a natural skill, and if I don’t love seeing that.
She’s still not keeping her eyes where I told her to though; instead, she’s looking toward my family and laughing and then toward me, and even though my heart’s rammed its way into my throat, I can’t help smiling to see her smiling. Ten seconds have passed. She lifts a hand to the hat, holding it in place, and I can only stare at the lines of her beautiful body, the glorious picture she makes out there, riding that damn pretend bull.
‘Come on, Beau, don’t go so easy on her,’ Austin calls over. ‘She can handle it.’
I clench my lips.
‘Faster?’ Buck asks.
This time I just nod, unable to look away from Bailey, or to move my hands from my side. My whole body’s frozen, as I stare across at her. The way her shirt’s separated from her jeans, revealing an inch or so of her tanned midriff. Her jeans are low, and at the back, there’s the tiniest scrap of pink lace visible. My mouth is dry, breathing raspy. When Buck turns the speed up, her ass lifts off the bull, so I take a step closer without realising it. ‘You gotta move with the bull, remember,’ I call.
She’s gonna fall off. I can see it happening seconds before it comes to pass, from the way she’s out of rhythm, the bull bucking one way, her another.
‘Tuck your arms in,’ I say, as her ass lifts off the saddle and her leg slips to the left. I hold my breath, wondering if she’ll be able to right herself, but she slides off the side with an indignant little cry, landing on her stomach, arms on either side. Not as I demonstrated at all. But at least the hat’s off her head, rolled clear across the mat.
The crowd cheers, my family loudest of all, but I barely hear them. I stalk across the padding, crouch down.
‘Bailey?’
She rolls onto her back, staring up at me, and smiles wide. Exhilarated.
‘You okay?’ I ask unnecessarily.
‘That was fun,’ she says. ‘I want to go again.’
My nerves stretch at the very idea. I hold out my hand, pulling her to standing with me, and when we’re close enough that my low, muttered words will reach her ears, and hers alone, I say, ‘Ain’t no way, darlin’.’
She looks at me with that combative, argumentative glare of hers, but before she can argue, I say, ‘Only thing you’re riding again tonight is me, and it’s gonna be a hell of a lot more fun than that.’
Chapter Twenty-Three
Bailey
Ilove the idea of tormenting Beau by keeping him waiting, by sitting down for another round of drinks with his family, shooting the breeze, but my blood is inferno-level heated. The way the bull bucked, with Beau watching me the whole time, so I felt his gaze like a touch; the way he came for me afterward, pulled me up, our hands brushing, and then said just the right thing to tip me into full-blown desperation mode—delay would hurt me as much as him, if not more.
I retrieve Austin’s hat and return it to its rightful owner, then say my quick goodnights to his family.
‘We’ll see you in Phoenix,’ Beth says, as she wraps me in a big hug.
‘Yeah, I’ll see you there.’ I’m looking forward to it, but that’s just an afterthought as I wave goodnight and slip through the bar once more, toward the staircase. I move up it quickly, unlock my room and step inside, pressing my back to the door on a rushof emotions. I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror; I’m all flushed, and my nipples are visibly taut beneath the cotton of my tank top.
I undress quickly, removing everything except my lace thong, and move toward the bed. I lie on my side, staring at the door, my breath coming rapidly. A second later, there’s a knock so sturdy and masculine I just know it’s Beau.
‘It’s open.’ My voice sounds all smoky.
He pushes the door and steps in, takes one look at me and growls, ‘Fuck.’
‘That’s the plan,’ I reply, brow arched in a manner I hope passes as seductive.
He shuts and locks the door, but stays where he’s standing, hands on hips, chest moving with each of his breaths—which are as urgent as my own.
He lifts a finger, crooking it toward me. I move off the bed as though he has his own gravitational pull. His eyes drop to my breasts, like he can’t help but stare, and a smile tips my lips.
‘You are so fucking beautiful.’
His compliment is a flower blossoming in my belly, spreading contentment through my whole body. His hand creeps into the elastic of my thong and snaps it, so a laugh escapes me.
‘But you’re practically naked, and I’m not.’
