25. Indie
Chapter 25
Indie
I throw all caution into the wind. I forget that we’re literally in the fairgrounds, that all that stands between us and everyone else is a flimsy curtain that sways as people walk by. Anyone walking by could look inside and get a peak if they look at the right moment. But I can’t bring myself to care about that right now.
All I care about is the rodeo clown currently bending me over his arm and kissing the soul from my body. This is it. This is what it’s meant to feel like. I’ve never been so simultaneously attracted to a man and also confused by him. Beau Rogers fits no mold. He bears no labels except his name. He doesn’t require any. This man is the epitome of eccentric, and I wouldn’t change it for the world.
“I can’t wait to taste you,” Beau growls against my lips. “I am your dog, little outsider.”
My hand drops to his crotch, finding his erection pressing against his jeans, and he groans in frustration, his hips jerking forward in a desperate attempt to get closer.
His hand slides up under my shirt and bra, cupping my breast with his rough hands and kneading. I gasp against him, eager for him to touch me everywhere he can.
“I need you,” I pant, my hand threading into his hair and knocking his cowboy hat off. Our kiss has smeared some of the makeup beneath his mouth. His red nose is smudged, and I realize I probably have red paint on my face, but I hardly care. I just need something, anything. I’m desperate for it.
His hand tugs at my jean fastenings, popping the button and the zipper, before he slides his hand inside, finding just how wet I am.
He groans. “Fuck, Indie. This is how I know we’re meant for each other.” He bites at my shoulder, leaving a bite of pain behind. “You’re just as turned on by danger as I am.”
His fingers stroke through my wetness, spreading it around, making me groan in frustration that his hand is too large to really move with the restriction of my jeans. This is too public of a place for this. I should stop.
My hand grabs him around his throat as I drag him back in for another kiss. He moans against my lips at my aggression, his hips grinding against me, his cock begging for release. I reach for his belt buckle and?—
The curtain slides open in front of us and Tripp steps inside. His brows shoot up and he jerks the curtain back closed behind him, but he doesn’t leave.
Beau growls. “You’re an asshole, Trippy. For fuck’s sake.”
“Don’t stop on my account,” Tripp says, crossing his arms. “Please continue.”
“Oh, he wants to watch, little outsider,” Beau groans. “Should we continue?”
I carefully pull Beau’s hand from my jeans, mostly so he doesn’t feel me getting wetter. God, I’m not sure if I’m blushing or if I’m just flushed from arousal. Fuck, maybe both.
“We should probably stop,” I rasp, and I hate the words that come from my lips.
Tripp’s eyes meet mine and I see it reflected there. He wasn’t joking. He’d be fine with watching, but this is still very public and I’m surrounded by people here I work with. I can’t do this here.
For the first time since Beau pulled me out on that dirt, I start to shake, the adrenaline wearing off now that the spell has been broken. The arousal though? That doesn’t go anywhere.
Beau lets me go reluctantly, but he reaches forward to help me adjust my clothing despite me putting a stop to this. He gently touches my chin, his eyes filled with heated emotion I don’t really have a name for. Or the name I have can’t be written.
This rodeo clown shouldn’t be looking at me like that.
“We’ll stick a pin in it,” Beau nods.
I nod. “Yeah. That sounds good,” I croak. “A rain check.”
He grins. “I like rain.” He glances at Tripp before stooping to pick up his cowboy hat. “You should probably get back out to the press box if you’re going to take pictures.”
I can’t go back out there. There’s no way. There’ll be too many questions, too many eyes.
“Yeah,” I nod, pushing my hair back from my face. The braid I’d been wearing is practically gone, Beau’s fingers pulling the strands loose. I’ll have to re-braid it or just let it down. “I’ll go do that.”
I slip out of the curtain, but I don’t go back inside. I get out of the arena entirely.
The first gulp of air outside is filled with the sweet scents of funnel cakes and cotton candy.
The second one brings an awareness of just how fucked I am when it comes to the Crimson Three.